Transitions

Once upon a time, my husband was a lowly HBS student, and I blogged with a sense of impunity. I had strong feeling about my compatriot “partners” (read: wives of students), whom I almost fondly referred to as CWITs, which stands for “Corporate Wives in Training.” I lost many a frenemie with my blog posts, although a few of the hardy stood by me and are friends today. In those days, I knew the only person who would suffer from my blog posts was my HBS husband, and I figured since he walked into this marriage with his eyes open, then anything that hit him was, if not well deserved, at least not a surprise.

But now. Now. Now my son is preparing to enter the world of public school education. Tonight was our first informational meeting about navigating the school system. Brief speeches by the superintendent about how children are going to learn all their lives. A little talk from the school nurse about health issues. And questions and answers for the parents. Oh, how my little fingers are twitching to write about my parental peers. About their concerns. Their worries. Their, their, their, well, idiocies. But alas, I find I can’t do it. Because while Adam was well aware of what he was getting into when he married me, my poor Doodles had me thrust upon him, with no say in the matter. And if there are repercussions to be had because of my blog, it would be unfair to have him suffer. So you, my dear reader, will never know of the utter ridiculousness that plague my fellow parents. I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I'm withholding good information. But I owe it to my Doodles.

On a serious note, this has been a tumultuous time. My baby is starting to prepare for kindergarten. We debated holding him back, as he makes the cut-off by a mere a week, but his preschool teachers seem to feel strongly that he wouldn't benefit from another year in preschool and that he's just as mature as his peers, so off he'll go. I know there are plenty of arguments for holding him back based on the later years, but I think it's impossible to know now what kind of kid he'll be at thirteen, so we send him, hope for the best, and deal with any problems as they arise. But looking at the school tonight, it just seemed so big. My little munchkin in a class of eighteen to twenty-one? No way! It just doesn't seem possible.

And then there's the other big change in my life. I did it. I finally weaned Pie. It's been ten days since she's last had Ming Ming, and we're both surviving, although I'm going through a hormonal roller coaster that's just not letting up. I'm reclaiming my body, although I barely remember what that was like. I got pregnant with Doodles in late November/early December 2002. And that was the last time my body was mine. I was pregnant till August 2003, nursed until September 2004, and then was pregnant again in November 2004. I've been pregnant or nursing for a solid five years now. I'm all done. Adam and I briefly debated having a third child, but have finally come to the conclusion that two is the right number for us, so that's that. Pie is doing okay with it, although she's been a bit crankier lately. And you know? I kind of miss it. Oh, not the Ming Ming part. I really didn't like that. But just before she was so cuddly and happy and she'd snuggle and laugh and she was always so sated and delighted after. I miss happy Pie. I still get the snuggles and laughs, but not as reliably and it's not the same. Makes me almost--almost!--wish I had kept going, but really, enough is enough. Extended breastfeeding is a wonderful thing... for other moms.

So there we are. Pie is off the boob and Doodles is preparing for kindergarten. It's a brave new world out there, people.