The View From Kalamazoo

So the Great Hospital Adventure with Emma earlier this week clinched what I was trying to do slowly and gently – weaning The Boy. We were already down to twice a day – and so I didn’t take The Pump with me. Moo no more. Once we got past the “Oh Boy! Mom’s Home!” excitement we’ve hit a few moments of great sadness and frustration with Mom from Colin who doesn’t understand why the booby-buffet is now closed. It appears this has broken his wittle heart, not that I don’t miss it (a bit) either. It *is* nice having my body back, however. He turns a year old on Sunday. He’s walking (some), grinding his new teeth in the most annoying fashion, and waving gleefully at passing cars. I admit (and I feel a little embarrassed, although I’m not sure why) I’m feeling the need for a Moment of Silence and a tissue for the tear as I acknowledge my baby’s transition into toddlerhood. I wasn’t this silly with Emma…maybe it’s because we’re certainly not planning on more children, I don’t know. Hm. And for Something Completely Different, whilst catching up on the blogs to the left I read a fine bit from Tightly Wound that really sums up my position on the A word. I’ve never been against it, politically, but I’ve never been *for* it, if you catch my meaning. Very nice.