It has occurred to me that I have been mourning the "passing" of baby ender. I'm trying hard to ply the rose colored glasses off my eyes; they are muddling the sleepless nights, the unexplainable crying, the every two hour nursings, the strict nap schedules, the tip toeing around the house when he finally fell asleep... But baby ender also carries with him our first beloved home, the catalyst for a marital growth spurt, and of course his beautiful innocent baby self.
Or it seems like, although I'm a mere almost 30, that I have lived a hundreds of lifetimes. Each season with its set of songs, smells, feelings, relationships,
lessons... Maybe I am just experiencing Ender's first handful of seasons and its giving me some heart ache.
Last summer he all of sudden discovered that his brain is not operated by me, I was trying for so long to keep that illusion going...alas! Mutiny on the ship. Ender has jumped overboard and acquired his own boat. The little narcissist is now trying to besiege my ship, however. It was a surprise attack. I was bewildered and resisted and reacted with much confusion.
But now I realize what is going on and I need to act accordingly. I remain captain and he can putter around in the great ocean tethered to my ship until its time. By God's grace the boy is growing and needs to test his oars out. Let it be.
I just think the transition has been through choppy waters. (plainly, the terrible twos) There is also a new crew member on board :) I'm sure that shivered his timbers.
Baby Ender 7 months.