Catherine Connors is a mother, writer and recovering academic who traded the lecture hall for the playroom and discovered that university students and preschoolers have much the same attention span. She still dips her toes into academic waters by writing the occasional scholarly article about the place of motherhood in Western philosophy, but mostly now she changes diapers and wipes noses and indulges in long reflections on whether Yo Gabba Gabba is a harbinger of the decline of western civilization. Oh, and she blogs: in addition to Bad Mother blogging at BeliefNet, she is, among other things, the author of HerBadMother.com, Managing Editor of MamaPop, moderator of Her Bad Mother’s Basement, co-founder and co-editor of WeCovet, Contributing Editor at BlogHer, and (deep breath) founder of and contributor to Canada Moms Blog. And in her spare time… oh, wait. She doesn’t have spare time. But she’s okay with that.
It’s Jasper’s second birthday. I would be celebrating, if I weren’t sniffling fat, maudlin tears into my Cabernet.
I love that he’s getting bigger, that he’s turning into a boy, I do.
But also, I hate it. I hate it because he’s my baby, he’s my last baby,
and I love his baby-ness, and it breaks my heart to lose it, to lose
He blows kisses at me, and my heart swells with happiness, and then the swell starts to hurt, a little, and I have to stop, turn around, take a breath, and remind myself that a swelling heart is a big heart, a loving heart, and that the pain is worth it, always worth it, and that he’ll always be my baby, no matter what. I tell myself that, and I believe it, I do.
But still. I keep a tissue at hand, for those stray tears.
(Happy birthday, baby boy.)