mighty maggie

It's past nine o'clock and I am sitting in front of gymnastics. I worked VERY HARD not to find out what happens tonight SO DO NOT TELL ME! I expect to be up until midnight, shoving chocolate into my anxious maw, with a box of Kleenex handy.

Sports make me all verklempt, people. VERY VERKLEMPT.

Today was the first day in absolutely forever where I did not find it necessary to shout down my firstborn in order to make him comply with my extremely reasonable wishes, like not using the couch as his personal balance beam. (The Cheungs are ALL into gymnastics, if you must know.)

So that was great. Seriously. We visited friends in the morning, came home for quiet time, and tried to get some stuff done in the backyard, but of course I can't have three happy, positive, not-screechy children. The baby was in HOLD ME mode so that's what I did, until the minute Phillip stepped out of his car and I threw her off the deck and into his backpack.

Our baby observer person (I never figured out what to call her!) is only going to visit two or three more times, then her class is over. I am... okay I'm sort of HEARTBROKEN over this. Apparently we are not supposed to be friends and M (I WILL CALL HER M) has never held or interacted with Emma, since she's "not allowed to influence the subject". But you know, when you have someone visiting your house for an hour, once a week, for an entire YEAR, it's pretty weird to not get to know them a little bit. Also I am sort of, you know, rather transparent about absolutely everything - for all I know M is totally relieved that she won't have to come here anymore and listen to me yammer on about Parenting. (HA HA HA. I am suddenly feeling quite relieved that she stopped taking notes after the first few months. WHEW.)

The truth is that I TOTALLY LOVE M and I am plotting how to keep her ensnared in our little world. Do you think she'll come visit and listen to me talk about EJ for fun? Maybe? The only other person who is interested in these things is my mother.

But all that to say that OMG EJ IS ALMOST ONE. She turned 10 months last week and I won't lie, that is ALSO making me a bit verklempt. There will probably not be a Cheung Baby 4.0 and when my MIL said that EJ had lost a bit of chin fat since she'd seen her last I MAY have stuck my fingers in my ears and started singing.

Actually, honestly, I've been less sad about Emma getting bigger than I was with the other kids. I loved every bit of New Baby Jack and I would Serious Sadness over the fact that he was no longer, say, three weeks old. Each month was killer. I mean, I LIKED each month, but I was always SURPRISED that I liked the next month. I kept waiting for that I MISS MY BABEEEEE moment.

I did this with Molly too, because she was my GIRL baby and I loathed having to put away barely worn baby dresses. Also Molly was just super scrumptious in the cheek department and I've sobbed a time or two over the thinning and stretching out that toddlers do. (NOT A FAN.)

Emma... okay, so sometimes I think the whole hating-being-pregnant and still-traumatic birth was a BLESSING. I sincerely have no desire to do any of that again. Ever. Still. I KNOW. And then there is DEFINITELY a way that I am looking forward to her getting older and doing more stuff on her own (you HAVE read the last week's worth of posts, right?) Most of the time I don't feel sad. EJ's lucky if I notice. (SORRY EJ.)

But then ten months hit and now that First Birthday seems... I don't know. TOO CLOSE.