I think it's time...

And oh, is it bittersweet.

After over four years of pregnancy and breastfeeding, I'm ready to have my body back. I'm ready to have a couple of drinks with some actual booze in them... Ready to have someone keep my kids overnight, ready to go on a diet without having to worry if my body is producing ketones or not... Ready to sit on the couch without having someone yank my shirt up unceremoniously while laughing maniacally.

I'm ready. I think.

So this morning, MissAngelBaby didn't ask to nurse when she woke up. She didn't body slam herself against me. She didn't pound me with her pumpkin head. She went to play, and then sat at the table and had a chocolate chip muffin and juice and went back to play. When she finally did nurse, almost three hours later, it was short, one sided, and back to playing.

I've been saying I wanted this for months. So why am I sad now? As I watch her, with her little girl shape, dancing with my eldest and my dog...my baby is gone.

She's just so big.

So big. And this is it for me. When this child is grown, we're done. Considering the amount of dishes our family produces in a day, that's a good thing. The amount of cooking in a day. The fact that some nights, by the time my kids go to bed, I'm ready to drink an entire bottle of vodka. The fact that writing an entire blog post in one sitting feels completely decadent.

*big, deep sigh.

I don't know that I'm ready to close this chapter of my life yet. When I was young, it seemed like nothing could come quick enough, I would never graduate from high school, never be old enough to drink, never have my first kiss, and now, the stages keep flying by at break neck speed, and no power on this earth is going to slow it down. And oh, how I want it to go slowly. How I want each moment of their childhood to dance in front of me- to hang on to the wonder in their eyes, and the pure joy behind their smiles and to cling to the snuggly hugs, and yes, even the nursing. I want each moment to last years.

But each time I close my eyes, another year has passed. Another stage gone.

Maybe I'm not ready. But it's not my decision.

It's hers. And there she goes.