Long Story Short

I've probably written about it here before, but I just found this great blog post by Mayim Balik on bed-sharing (not to be confused with cosleeping).  We're bed-sharers for most of the reasons that she goes over, and she says it a whole lot better than I could at this time of night (when I should be sleeping, but I'm scouring blogs instead because I'm on spring break!).  I semi-regularly see other moms post on Facebook about sleep issues with their babes, and I'm always reticent to respond because our family views are so vastly different than most people we know. Often, we're judged or slammed or told we're wrong because we respond to our children's needs in a different way, one that feels more natural to us and less like a method we read in some book.  We've never expected our young children to be independent, but have tried to teach them independence in age-appropriate ways.  Generally, I tend to think that what a generalized American society thinks is "right" is not always right for us.  And so go read her blog and think we're freaks or geniuses.  Either one works for us.

My Baby isn't a Baby.

He's three.  Three whole years old.  Somehow, time has managed to fly right past me and my teeny newborn who wanted to nurse every two hours, who loved to stare at the painting of the moon, who loved to be carried in the Moby, right next to my heart is now an almost preschooler who is non-stop on the go, who loves to paint but not to color, who requests vegetables for breakfast, who is just about potty trained (!!!), who has very distinct preferences in his clothing (and is finally wearing size 24 months, now that he's 36 months), who loves music with his whole soul, who will sometimes wake up, rub his eyes sleepily and announce, "that was a GOOD nap, Mama," who loves to play with Littlest Pets and 'food toys,' who practically knows how to use my iPod-- this is my son.  My three year old. My baby.