I'm trying to figure out

why exactly it is I don't blog as often.

Saying I'm busy with a kid is true, but honestly, since I've gone back to work and he's been going to daycare regularly, I'm not in the baby-attached-to-me-24/7 position I was in back when I was on maternity leave.

I could say that work consumes me, and that's more or less true. I have less unstructured time than I did when I was back in grad school or what have you. But still...

I mean, I can't put my finger on it, exactly. Maybe it's that I feel like my life has become more or less routine. The major milestones have been settled. No mystery men or cryptic flirtations to write about. No anticipation/disappointment about whether or not I'm preggers, at least not for another couple of years.

Not to say that there aren't things up in the air, or even exciting things coming up. We're still praying about my husband's job search. I'm (supposed to be) making plans for a research trip to Spain this summer. But I don't know what has changed about the way I used to write.

Maybe I feel like things are routine, more routine than they used to be. Which isn't altogether a bad thing either. But maybe I feel like whereas before I was more interesting, "single girl meets postmodern world" used to be my tagline, I now feel more conventional. Like, I'm not a single girl defying the statistics and going against the odds as I figure out living life unconventionally. Now I make my mark balancing marriage, career and parenthood. Somehow, not as unique. Now you're just like the rest of us.

I mean, not everything has been routine lately. In fact, P and I recently attended a marriage retreat and had a much needed weekend getaway while my mom came to take care of (read: spoil) the little one. We ate lots of good food, did a bit of exploring, and just got to focus on us for a while. We both learned a lot at the sessions and we came home with some practical tips for improving our marriage.

I'm on my Spring Break this week and spent the day watching Netflix films: Icelandic dramas and Spanish thrillers. It's nice to have a few lazy days to myself. But in a few minutes I'm leaving to go pick up my son from daycare. I'm falling more and more in love with him as I watch him develop his own little personality. He can say a few words now: "bubble," "oh, wow!" "boy," "eyes," and, of course, "no." He's pulling himself up now. It's only a matter of time before he starts walking.

The End of an Era

So, this marks the second week that this little cutie pie face has been weaned. No more mommy's milk.

It was a little less dramatic than I thought it would be. For the past month or so, the only feeding that he was still hanging on to was the morning one. I knew it was time because he began pulling off frustratedly crying because he wasn't getting enough to be satisfied. My supply had definitely gone way way down by that point and I figured it was probably time to pull the plug for good. Now, every morning, he gets a good dose of lukewarm whole milk from his sippy cup. He's much happier now.

It sort of happened naturally rather than abruptly, which I guess is how it's supposed to happen, but I guess I'm still sort of processing what it means to have moved on from this chapter of a particular type of bonding with my son.

No longer nursing is nice on one hand. No more human dairy cow. But in the other hand, it means our son isn't a baby anymore.

At one point, I provided all of his nourishment. Everything he needed came from my body. But now, that time has passed. I make sure to give him extra snuggles to try to make up for it. I know the day will come when he won't be as cuddle-prone as he is now. Little buddy. Snugglums. Ba-ba-boo.