An ache in my belly

I put the baby bathtub away yesterday.  My breast pump went in the "donate" pile a few weeks ago.  The playmat, the bumbo seat, the boppy pillow, the swing, the bouncy chair all went in the storage section of the basement.  He's too active, too mobile to sit still, to lay around and play at dangly things hanging above him.  I think I'm supposed to be sad to put these things away, like a last baby mourning thing, but I'm not.  I like getting rid of the "stuff".  The "stuff" stresses me out.  There's more room in the bathroom now without the tub being shifted around.  And breastfeeding, while lovely and valuable in so many ways, is not something I cling to nostalgically.

There are too many things I love about right now to be sad about what we're moving on from.  When I lay him down to change his diaper, he immediately throws his hands over his eyes and shows me his big toothy grin when he pulls them away.  Peek-a-boo--soooo much fun.  He claps at everything--toys, people, the fact that his heels make a fun pounding sound when he kicks the hardwood floor.  And he's not much of a snuggler, but he will press his forehead against my face and close his eyes, he will cry "Na, Na, Na" when he's looking for me, and he will swat my face and laugh when I sing him Baby Beluga before bed.

I do get a little ache in my belly though when I think about lunch time, when I think about the 10 a.m.story hour when we would snuggle up with books and a blanket and read together on the couch.  That is something I will miss this year.  The bathtub can happily find a new home, I still have my Gideon to snuggle and play with, but come lunch time, Charlie and I will no doubt be lonely for our Finny this fall.  He will be chattering away with his friends in the school cafeteria, but we will sit around the kitchen table missing his constant silliness.  "Sit down and eat, Finny!"  I won't miss yelling that every 4 minutes, but I will miss his little face full of mischief and the things he would reveal to me as we sat across the table from each other chomping our grilled ham and cheese.  It's not the more room in the house that gives me pause; it's the more room in the day that makes me ache.  He says he's more excited to start first grade than he is for his birthday, and that delights me to no end, but I will miss wiping the peanut butter off his face.  It's a soft face and I love to hold it in my hands.