Lasts

You know how I lovvvvvvvve firsts? Well to that same degree, I dislike lasts. Whether it's something I enjoyed doing at the time or not, it just makes me a little sad when I know it's the last time I get to, or have to, do it. Which leads me to the unflattering self portrait above. This was me using up the last of Brax's formula, as he has graduated to whole milk now. Why, one might ask, would I be sad about not having to buy $50 worth (and that was generic!!) of formula every month... sad about not having to measure and mix that bottle every morning at 5 am that gets clogged up in the nipple and makes the sleepy little man very angry... Why? Because it's the end of an era. The baby era. "Us girls" tend to stay near our parents' wings even into adulthood, but I know that as a boy, Brax will become independent very quickly and not "need" his mommy anymore. (Hopefully, that is. No one wants to marry a momma's boy. And I don't really want him living with us FOREVER.)

I have to say though, lasts that I see coming, lasts that I can prepare for, document, and appreciate aren't too bad. It's the lasts that you can't remember that are the downers. When was the last time your mom "tucked you in?" Or sang you to sleep? Or helped you wipe your butt in the bathroom? When was the last time you held your dad's hand while you were in the mall? (I had to stop doing that pretty early--my dad looks young and I always looked older than my age... We got some pretty obvious "Wow--he's robbing the cradle, isn't he?" looks.)

When did one era end and the other began?

Anyway, you get my point. Really I just wanted to justify my neurotic documentation of all Brax's "milestones." (Is getting off formula really a milestone? Maybe not...). You never know which time will be a last, crossing you over the fine line that separates then from now.