Everything in life can be tied to a David Bowie song.

I’ve been hearing ch-ch-changes in my head a lot lately.

I watch the ripples change their size
But never leave the stream
of warm impermanence
So the days float through my eyes
But still the days seem the same
And these children that you spit on
As they try to change their worlds
Are immune to your consultations
They’re quite aware of what they’re going through

My oldest got real bed. When I go into her room I am astonished at the fact that a girl lives there. I miss her crib.

Then she started preschool. Preschool where she has to have her own crayons and markers with her name on them. Preschool where she gets graded daily on her behavior. She has a mailbox with her name on it and when I pick her up there is art in it. Art that my baby made.

She pooped on the potty three times this week. She puts most of her pee in the potty and not in her diaper. She’s a kid. I have a kid.

My baby is slowly but surely finding his voice. He’s communicating. There’s no more having a serious discussion when he’s in the room because he’s listening. The little sponge is soaking it all in.

The other day I asked him for a kiss and a hug. I’ve never asked him for that before. He walked right over, pursed his lips and kissed me smack dab on the lips. He was so proud of himself. I was so proud of him.

We are on the fast track to getting rid of his bottle, of saying goodbye to the quintessential sign that a baby lives at our house once and for all. I haven’t been in a big hurry for this with him because he’s my baby and babies drink bottles. But, I know deep down that it is time. I’m pretty sure I will shed a tear when I take his bottles out of the dishwasher for the last time.

I’ve been compiling things to craigslist, baby things, paraphernalia that I spent days researching and picking out. Things that are just taking up space in my house because I can’t bear the thought of parting with them. I feel guilty about that because I know they are things that someone else can use.

Yesterday someone offered to buy the glider from the nursery and I’m seriously considering selling it. It makes me sad that I’m even considering it.

Every mother goes through this, I’m sure. It’s hard. I know that they are just things but when I look at them, when I fold up those little preemie clothes that she barely filled out, my heart breaks. I can see her in them. It doesn’t seem like that long ago.

While we haven’t ruled out having more children completely, we have ruled them out for the foreseeable future. I am not willing to give up any more of my very limited time with these two little people that I already know and love in order to bring a third into the mix right now. Their dad doesn’t really want anymore kids. I know that I shouldn’t want more kids but I do. It’s bittersweet.

I know that selling or donating the baby things isn’t really The End. I know that I can buy a new Jumperoo. I know I can get a different baby carrier. I know that the bedroom we have open that was intended to be filled by another little person when we bought our house can be used for an office. I have come to terms with our Christmas card being signed by a family of four.

I think I have come to terms with it.

Except maybe I haven’t. I wonder how one gets to the point where they actually feel 100% sure.

I think more than anything it is hard to accept that the big events coming up in our lives are twenty years out, when our kids get married and have their own kids. College is over. We did the wedding thing. Our babies were born. Those days that will remain etched in your brain for all of eternity, the days where there is that aura of excitement around you, are over. While I know that the kids starting school and learning to play the piano are important things, they just aren’t the kind of things that define your life.

It feels weird to wonder if my life is defined.

Strange fascination, fascinating me.Changes are taking the pace I'm going through.

- david bowie