This morning, when I came downstairs, my MIL proudly said, "Look!" and threw her arms wide open, indicating a large expanse of bottles, nipples, pumps and assorted other nursing supplies on the counter top. "I thought I'd empty out that cabinet and put all her dishes and cups in there instead!"
"Well, that makes sense," I said. And it does. In fact, it was something I'd meant to do a while back. But as I was sorting and storing all of those infant-items, I was hit by a pang of sadness, nonetheless. My sweet baby isn't a teeny wee one any more. And really, I'm very glad. But it seemed sort of final to pack all of that stuff away. I know that in even the best case scenario, we won't need it for another year or more. And thinking of needing all of that again makes me more than a little nervous. And tired. Really tired. But still.
As if she understood what was going on, Hannah came up to me while I sat on the couch and started snuggling while I drank my coffee. Then she began poking at my boob. I looked at her, wondering what that was about - did she remember nursing and was feeling nostalgic? - when she suddenly giggled and tweaked my nipple! She's good at breaking me out of those self-absorbed moments.
In order to prove to myself that I can, indeed, act my age, I'm going out tonight! I'm headed out to a happy hour and then down town with my guy-friends and an old high school acquaintance that I re-met last weekend. I'm vowing to act silly and flirt inappropriately. But I'm also going to attempt to be very sensible about my alcohol consumption since I really don't want to sacrifice an entire weekend to recovering.
Okay, so I'm not ready to put away ALL my childish things just yet...