Well, very soon my son will be half a year old. It is hard to let go of the baby stage this time since I know he will be my last. I don’t really want to start solids, I don’t really want to put him down, etc. Sometimes I long for a third but I know it’s not about being able to handle a third, but more about not wanting to let go of this stage of life; not wanting to get old and have health problems, etc.
My in-laws came to visit over Christmas break. My FIL is a nice person and all, but he has six grandkids and is a very traditional Indian man, who doesn’t really get involved with his kids or grandkids beyond providing for them financially. I couldn’t help thinking how much more awesome a grandfather my dad would have been. Not only does he live nearby, instead of 10k miles away, but he always said how much he would want to take my (future) kids to the playground…was looking forward to them holding his finger and walking. I bet he would have gotten on the floor with my kids and given them horsie rides and whatnot…taken them out and played ball. Whereas my FIL spent weeks here and he was…nice, but he doesn’t like kids, and doesn’t get involved with them, and it wasn’t the same.
And so how come someone who doesn’t like kids gets to play with six grandkids, while my dad didn’t even get to know one? I just don’t understand the universe sometimes. I guess this is why people turn to ideas like karma and previous lives…hoping that somehow there is an overall arc of justice, even if we can’t see it within our own limited lifetimes.
I miss my dad. But the shape of the missing is changing. It’s becoming a smooth hole, not a crater, I guess.
My son will turn six months soon. I feel the weight of the universe on my shoulders, I am 36.5 and no longer feel young, but if you ask me where my youth went, I’m not sure. I feel like I went from a girl to middle-aged mom in the space of two or three years. I feel cheated. I don’t feel like *me*. I am tired.