A decade

When you read the above, please pronounce it as "a deck-uhd." Thank you.

Anyway, so it was 10 years ago today that Dave and I met at a party (notwithstanding the time we had met several years earlier, but that didn't count). We celebrated in style today, baby. Homemade waffles. Commemorative t-shirts. Rollerblading (r) on the beach. Fireworks and a boat parade. Laughing about our "million-dollar" house (it's all imaginary money, people). Laughing along with our most beautiful boy. Being completely unable to get over how much we have to be grateful for in the past 10 years.

Speaking of that boy, I have to somehow mark down the unspeakable, which is to say that he is actually weaning this week. I can't talk about it when he's around because I don't want to give him the power of suggestion. And I can't talk about it when he's not around because it's too darn sad. All I want to do is hold him on my lap and not let go. I guess I'm feeling super touchy-feely this week because of it.

There was a first-person NY Times piece last week by a mom of a 10-year-old who was trying to set boundaries on physical contact and she decided she had to cut back on the amount he jumped into her arms, played with her hair, etc. There's part of me that thinks it's a little icky; there's another part of me that feels great solidarity. I can't hold back from wanting to hold him. But maybe I'll wait a little longer than just the very week he happens to be weaning to see if it's a trend or not.

Believe it or not, there's more celebrating to be done tomorrow: Brunch at La Cabana to watch the lady cook tortillas, then a snow park and more fireworks in the afternoon. Seems like this is turning into a trend of some kind: Ten years ago, it was all I could do to drag myself to a party; now we have fireworks every day.