I picked Gabriel and Julian up at Tonya's today from Sleepover, but first, we stayed for Tonya's Christmas party. Santa was supposed to show up to give out gifts, but cancelled, so Tonya's daughters did the honors.
Gabriel got a Darth Vader Mr. PotatoHead set, and Julian got a take-apart truck (which was of great interest to Gabriel too, unfortunately). Katrina stayed at home with Dad, for once not having to be roused out of a comfy nap to get dragged around after her brothers.
At one point, I said something to Gabriel about Santa coming to the party, and Gabriel asked, "you mean the real one?!"
The boys were in true form back at home, with Julian being edgy and Gabriel being a major pest. But we got it under control when we got Julian up for a nap, and Dave took Gabriel out shopping for a birthday present for Julian. This is another problem with Julian's awful birthday date -- normally it'd be fun to shop for him, but combined with Christmas-shopping crowds, and common toys being out of stock, it's no fun. This is why I sent Dave to do the dirty work!
Katrina photos from yesterday, a short experimental shoot.
She had me up twice last night, which I've gotten un-used to! Lately it's been just once a night, but of course I always know things can change. I also don't sleep well with her right next to me because she's a very noisy and agitated sleeper, and every little peep or snuffle sets off the Mom-smoke-detector in my head and wakes me up. She's a very wiggly baby, rarely just sitting and relaxing in your lap, always moving her limbs. And even when asleep, she's in constant motion.
I've been experiencing a new guilt about being an older mom. For some reason, this bothers me more with a daughter than sons, I guess because I think she'll care more. I remember watching my mother as a little girl, and adoring her as a beautiful angel, the one to look up to and be like, whose perfume I'd wear someday (Fiji!), whose clothes I'd wear, who was my model as the perfect woman (the innocent days before girls looked up to starving supermodels, I guess). But how can Katrina look at me like that, when I'll be more of a grandmotherly figure? Later, she'll miss out on years of having her mother in her life, as an active, independent, close family member to visit and talk to and be with. Instead, I'll be an elderly parent to care for. When she's my age, I'll be pushing **90** !! Even now, I feel the tug of wanting to be a grownup, of seeing my golden years not far on the horizon -- a very different phase of life than nursing a 10-week-old baby. Gabriel and Julian...somehow, I just don't imagine that they're going to care or think about it the same way. Perhaps that's sexist of me.
I know it's silly to fret about it, because of all things in life I can do little about, it's my age. Everyone assures me that people live longer, healthier lives now, and especially me since I've always been committed to exercise and have a lot of energy. But if anything will age me fast, it's my kids!