Pet Peeve, time.
We can’t go ANYWHERE lately without being asked how old D is. Then it’s followed by that incredulous look and sometimes with a spoken, “Really?”
Ouch. Right in the preemie mama feels.
I was there for his birth if a bit groggy from the no sleep and meds to stop labor. I think I KNOW how old my child is. I have to count every calorie that goes into his mouth, and I still know what his exact weight is.
I usually offer a “he was early” and move on.
I do know someday in the not-too-distant future he’ll start to answer for himself. “I’m this many.”
Will he be questioned, too?
Saturday is 17 months day. We’re going to go to Big Bone Lick State Park and see the fossils and baby bison.
Friday is goal setting day. I’m looking forward to having a more formal plan to guide us for the next 6 months.