So you guys might be wondering (or maybe not) why I am suddenly so agog over beauty, makeup, etcetera and etcetera. No really, it’s all I’ve talked about in the last few posts, on Twitter and on Instagram (And for a few more posts to come, I must warn thee). Truth is, if you’ve known me long enough, you would know that this obsession, fascination and addiction to makeup goes a looooong way back. I started with makeup at a younger-than-average age and I will be into it ’til I’m old and grey.
But why the amplified fascination now? Why not from the beginning of the blog? Well here’s my confession: I need to focus my energy elsewhere or else I will be one hot mess. Because…
Basti is weaning.
*I will pause here because again, tears are beginning to flow*
I first started to feel the end of our nursing relationship on the day Basti did not ask to nurse for 12 hours. 12 hours became 20, 20 became 24. And then just a few days ago, 24 hours became 2 days. Two. FREAKING. Days. I had to stop myself from asking Basti if he wanted to nurse. I wanted to ask him, no, BEG him to nurse, to become my little baby again, just so I could smell him, hold him, cuddle him and remind him that he’s my little itty-boy and he doesn’t have to grow up if he doesn’t want to.
But he is growing up as children do, and I am the bigger baby than Basti because I am such a SAP. So there I was a couple of days ago reading an email sent to me by Basti’s school. He’s entering nursery school in June and the email was just to outline the enrollment procedures and schedule; nothing major, nothing particularly inspirational, just your regular administration and principal stuff. But what did I do? Like an idiot, I was crying my eyes out. OVER A FREAKING ENROLLMENT PROCEDURE LETTER! Can you imagine me on the first day of school? At a PTC meeting? Moving up day? Prom Night? I’d be lucky if Basti still wants to be seen with me when he’s 13. I’m going to be the most embarrassing mother ever.
Do you guys want to know the last time I wore Basti in a sling? Well don’t ask, because I can’t tell you. I can’t remember. I haven’t worn Basti in weeks. My carriers, save for two, are all in storage now. I still keep a couple out just in case I hear the sweet words “Mama, carry Basti” again. My heart isn’t ready to give up babywearing my big boy even if my back is celebrating.
So because of all this mothering madness, I am choosing to focus, to channel, to regroup. I am choosing to focus on me.
I am choosing to focus on my passions, to channel my energy into things that make me happy in order to be a pleasant presence in Basti’s life. It’s also my way of getting to know myself again, after two years of virtually thinking of no one else but this little boy. The makeup kit is being revived, the heels are coming out, and there is finally a little room in my heart and my life for a bit of self-indulgence.
Basti is turning three years old next month, marking my 3 years of being a mother now and forever. This period is going to be like hard candy to me – sweet, jarring, awkward and irregular, seemingly unchanging and endless, until one significant crack makes the hardness go away. And then I’ll find myself holding hands not with a little boy, but with a tiny young man ready to take on the world and mark it with awesome. I hope he’ll still let me hold his hand.
So forgive me, readers, friends and stray-Google-search passerbys, if the Mommy is becoming a Mom-Me. It’s the most I can do to keep my wailing at bay. We have to brace ourselves for more Madness. Our kids may be growing up, but they’ll turn into babies when they need us to be their mommies. Let’s look amazing while we do it, shall we?