It is officially Bloody Horrible out there. Rain and hail and below freezing. Even the chickens are hiding in their house. (Note to self: need Miserable Wet Chicken icon for days like this
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I think I have some idea of what you are feeling, my dear, but it may go down a bit better if you think of JB as being 'nearly eight' rather than as 'my wee boy'. YOUNG he certainly is, and probably growing up WAY too fast ~ as do most kids, not just yours ~ but we can't hang on each second too long or we lose some of the joy in being present and mindful in the Now.
(I think that's what I mean to say, but such things get so convoluted when I'm trying to explain them, I'm never sure I've said it clearly and correctly.)
You are absolutely correct, however in your ending observation: This parenting lark is STRANGE!
Oh, I know. And I do think of him as 'almost eight' most of the time -- he certainly does! -- and it does help, mostly ... except for the times when I want my baby back!
It is oddly unhelpful, though, that he is very young-for-his-age in many ways, while being remarkably precocious in others. I never quite get to settle down into one way of thinking, if you know what I mean.
I am so proud of him, and how he's growing up, and I love the way he is developing. (Especially the newfound tolerance for novel foods!) I just sometimes wish he'd slow down for a bit so I can catch up ...
When I was about 25, I had a purple sweatshirt, just exactly the same colour as one you had worn frequently a few years before, and when I wore it I kept looking down and seeing your hands at the ends of my arms. Most disconcerting. And this sock thing bizarres me out on the same visceral level.
Oh well, it keeps me on my toes. Or on somebody's toes, anyway ...
sam is huge, he will be 9 in july and i dont want him any bigger, nik is 14 in june and his voice has changed and he has wee dark bum fluff on his upper lip (i refuse to use the words facial hair!!!)and is almost as tall as me.
where are my wee babies, that needed hugs and snuggles and we all squishy???/ sigh wish i had a time capsule or a tardis
Agent Weasel's hands are the same size as mine, and she has the same length of reach. She also takes the same size shoes (though her feet are narrower). She's just turned ten.
S bought JB a new pair of gumboots yesterday. They're a bit big on him -- with luck they might still fit next year -- but they're just about right for me. ::sigh::
I don't even want to think about coping with JB turning ten. I'm having a hard enough time with eight ... And anyway, he'll probably be taller than me by then!
Today I went shopping with my baby - dammit 13 he's still may baby lol for size 14 socks not childrens socks but ADULT size 14 socks. He is only but half a hand span from being the same height as his father. Your right this parenting lark is a strange thing.
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(I think that's what I mean to say, but such things get so convoluted when I'm trying to explain them, I'm never sure I've said it clearly and correctly.)
You are absolutely correct, however in your ending observation: This parenting lark is STRANGE!
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It is oddly unhelpful, though, that he is very young-for-his-age in many ways, while being remarkably precocious in others. I never quite get to settle down into one way of thinking, if you know what I mean.
I am so proud of him, and how he's growing up, and I love the way he is developing. (Especially the newfound tolerance for novel foods!) I just sometimes wish he'd slow down for a bit so I can catch up ...
When I was about 25, I had a purple sweatshirt, just exactly the same colour as one you had worn frequently a few years before, and when I wore it I kept looking down and seeing your hands at the ends of my arms. Most disconcerting. And this sock thing bizarres me out on the same visceral level.
Oh well, it keeps me on my toes. Or on somebody's toes, anyway ...
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where are my wee babies, that needed hugs and snuggles and we all squishy???/
sigh wish i had a time capsule or a tardis
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Mind you, I take comfort in the fact that he solemnly promises that he'll never be too old to need goodnight kisses ...
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Ridiculous, isn't it.
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And deeply bizarre.
S bought JB a new pair of gumboots yesterday. They're a bit big on him -- with luck they might still fit next year -- but they're just about right for me. ::sigh::
I don't even want to think about coping with JB turning ten. I'm having a hard enough time with eight ... And anyway, he'll probably be taller than me by then!
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Your right this parenting lark is a strange thing.
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We're raising a race of giants, I swear!
It's not that I don't want JB to grow up. I love the way he's growing up. I just wish I could keep him little, too ...
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