non-baby thing

Katie talks a lot about babies: her having them, me having them, how she used to be one, how I don't have one in my belly, how she does have one in her belly, how maybe someday there will be another one in my belly (but on Labor Day she told me very firmly that no, the little baby in my belly would never come back, I would never have another one, "Sorry, no, Mommy," but that's just the way it is). 

Last weekend she told me that she had a baby in her belly, and that it would come out at Christmas time.  I was sure that she said this because when I was pregnant, that's what I had told her - that there was a baby in my belly, but it wouldn't come out for a long, long time, not until there was cold outside and it was almost Christmas.  A few minutes later she was back, delighted, pointing to her small, fully-clothed, Anne of Green Gables doll on the floor in front of her.  "Look, Mommy, I had the baby!" 

"Already?" I said.  "I thought you weren't having the baby until Christmas."

She gave me a steely look.  "It IS Christmas, Mommy," she said.  "It is already Christmas."  She has been known, when I have challenged her too much on something like this, to finally say in frustration, "I am PRETENDING!"  This time, I let it drop.

She pretends, often, that she has a brother or sister, or brothers and sisters.  Usually they are younger than she is, but occasionally they are older.  She seemed non-plussed when I explained to her the other day that she couldn't really ever have an older sibling, since she was the first, and no matter how much time went by, she would always be older. 

I don't really relate her talk about all of this to the fact that I was pregnant or to the fact that I'm not anymore.  I am sure it is natural for children to be interested in the idea of other children, not to mention being interested in actual other children and babies that they see and know, and so I don't really doubt that she would say a lot of these things regardless of what our fertility situation was. 

It does seem unfortunate, though - from my perspective - that this somewhat recent fixation on babies coincides with her recent new assertions of independence.  "Go away, Mommy," she tells me, often without any anger.  "Leave me alone now."  "Fine, I don't need to see you."  Or this morning, "Leave me alone and go talk to Daddy.  Daddy will talk to you and be your friend."  It all just sort of brings home the point that not only do I not have another baby on the way, I also have nothing resembling a baby already at home. 

I don't mean to say that the non-baby at home is without sweetness.  The other day I brought her a container full of flower-shaped foam pieces with adhesive backing, and she clutched it to her bosom and cried, "Oh, THANK you, Mommy!  I LOVE it!"  I smiled and asked her if she knew what it was, and without a beat she said, "No, what?"  Later, as she stuck the flowers to a green sheet of paper, she shook her head and said, "Thank you for getting these for me, Mommy.  That was really nice of you." 

The non-baby thing has its good points, too.

Comments

[jana]

I love this. Yes, every day I see the benefits of my daughter's growth but also think wistfully of her baby-er days.

By the way, I think I have that same Anne of Green Gables doll for Charlotte!

[TB]

I know I shouldn't be wishing time away, but I can't wait until Myles can talk. I so want to hear what his voice sounds like.

[Eliza]

I'm so happy you are posting again.

[Colleen]

Thanks for writing. I love when you update.

[Joanne]

I love it when you update too, I love hearing about Katie and how big she's getting. It's funny (and not in a ha ha way) how I read about her being so big and strong and grownup and think "I can't wait" for that for myself and my son. All I want is for him to not be a baby anymore! I have high hopes that maybe that will make my stay at home motherdom less freaking boring. When I had a miscarriage, he was only one and didn't understand anything about it so we didn't have to discuss it. I imagine that is so difficult for you, and you seem to handle it so well. I admire you so much as a mother.