I am a bad blogger…but the week sort of went by in a bit of a blur.
There has been cleaning, and organizing..though really, you can’t tell. But there was.
Cards were writ and mailed
More lists were made.
Pat and Adam, Tara AND Caity have all been fighting lingering colds too.
The highlight of last week was getting to meet the husbands co-workers and bosses at their little Christmas dinner. I say little because they are a teeny tiny company, but all very nice and very fun. It was great to be out with adults. But how tragic that some wine and dinner exhausts me and takes a day to recover from.
In the meantime, the house is slowly being decorated and the LIST is being whittled down.
Decorating takes a lot longer when you have a pink and pudgy thing wanting to be held all day. Course she is so cute…how can you say no?
This whole family is gaga over our wee babe.
It is amazing how much we forgive her lack of sleep. Talk about an amazing survival mechanism.
The power of love is amazing and I boggle at how people can abuse and or neglect children. Something must be seriously dead inside a person to not respond to the needs of their children.
Which is why the never ending superiority dances online at various blogs and parenting sites and, of course, Twitter, over parenting ‘styles’ and what makes better parenting is sort of moot. Unless you do actually really really suck.
We are all ‘Attachment’ parents. We are all attached to our kids in some form. Using a wrap or co sleeping does not or should not be qualifiers.
At night, when I am soothing Tara to sleep and when she is asleep she is ‘attached’ to me. Even when I put her down in her little bassinet. She is still attached to me.
When I button my son’s coat up as he heads to school HE is attached to me.
When I brush Caitlyn’s hair, she is attached to me.
My children are attached to me. My soul (or whatever it is) extends out from my body and is buried deep in my children’s hearts and minds.
I hurt when they hurt…be it physical (skinned knees) or in their dear hearts (when broken by cruel words).
I feel their joy. I feel their laughter.
I feel their deep sense of comfort when I hold them.
I feel THEIR love when they look at me.
It does not matter what I feed them, or how I transport them. I am attached.
Marilyn says
I like your definition of attachment parenting. Until recently I hadn’t heard the term attachment parenting and so didn’t know I was doing anything “wrong” on that front until I started to blog. There are a lot of attachment parenting bloggers out there. Of course I don’t feel like I am actually doing anything wrong just because we don’t co-sleep. I’m attached to my kids and they to me and that’s really the key.
Glad your list is whittling down!
coffeewithjulie says
I LOVE this post. Your more inclusive definition of “attachment” is bang-on. Although I would not be included in the group called “attachment parents,” I, like Marilyn, know that the parents and children in this home are deeply attached.