Two very random thoughts came into my head today as I was driving the kiddos around, both which made me terribly sad.
The first thought: Emmy is going to be starting kindergarten in two years. Why is it that two years suddenly seems like such a SHORT amount of time? Like, WAAY too short. Seriously, I just know that on the first day of school, I am totally going to be THAT mama. You know, the one who is sobbing uncontrollably as her daughter boards the school bus for the first time. You know, the mama who wants to CHAIN herself to the bus. The mama who contemplates jumping in her car and following the bus to school, where she will then climb a tree and use binoculars to spy on her daughter's classroom, just to make sure everything is okay and nobody is being mean to her girl. I have two years left to prepare myself and to try NOT to be that mama on Em's first day of kindergarten. OR I just have two years to freak out about the whole thing.
The second thought: I am probably done having babies. I mean, it's not an ABSOLUTE that we won't have a third kid, but the chances are very very slim. Especially since, when I mentioned to C that (ha ha) I saw a tiny newborn baby the other day and (ha ha) I was thinking that it would be so nice to be pregnant again just (ha ha) EIGHT months after giving birth, C gave me THE LOOK. Yeah, it's probably not going to happen. But while I should be CELEBRATING being back to my pre-Oren weight, and ENJOYING life in an un-pregnant body, I am actually truly sad that my baby-making chapter is probably officially over. Ah well. I can always stuff a pillow under my shirt and pretend to be pregnant, like Emmy always does.