... And a Status Report from the Land of Triangle Family

Firstly, with the exception of increasingly-spaced twinges of pumpkin-belly-missing, I am so on board with the single child plan. Triangle Family it is- so be it.

I'm calling night-weaning a success-in-progress. She still asks to nurse when she wakes (if she wakes, and lo! there are nights when she doesn't) but accepts the new rule: there are no nummins when the sun's down. Several clever family members and friends have observed that I sneakily chose the rule knowing the sun is waning and I predict she'll slowly wean by Winter Solstice. Now that I'm sleeping, I'm feeling a great deal more flexible about when/if/how/whatever to completely wean. I love that she's able to participate in this transition. It was a stroke of genius to find a time frame she can observe herself. I think I stole the idea from Martha Sears, but let's just credit my sun-worshiping pagan self, OK?

Ongoing thing: Single motherhood with a father in the house. The Bird will not let him coparent. Nor is he allowed to touch me affectionately in her presence. Observe:

Bu: *hugs and kisses me* "Love you."
Birdy: "Noooo!!!! MY mama!"
Bu: "Yes, honey, but she's my wife, too. I love Mommy too."
Birdy: "No! MY Yife!

All day Sunday I was her mommy AND her "yife." Meh. At least it was highly amusing, as was Bu saying, "You're a baby. You don't have a wife yet." (Not sure if this was silliness, or pro-LGBT language to please and entertain me, or if he didn't even notice...)

Adorableness aside, it's really frustrating both of us that she won't interact with Bu as much as she will me. We are both charmed by her new preference for being home with us. Since she's been in the grandies' care since almost birth during the work week, she's always been very attached to them. It's kind of a little parenting ego boost for us now that she blisses out when we pick her up. She says "My house! I home! Boo home!" and it's like Neverland with chocolate sprinkles or something.

Speaking of Neverland, I'm reinventing it with such wild artistic license Mr. Barry would either shudder with disgust or lavish me with praise... maybe both. We have no Peter Pan books in the house (which is a sacrelige) but I showed the baby a few minutes of the movie. She loves the story but the movie's too scary. She asks for a Pan story every night, so I get to exercise my inventiveness while she drifts to sleep.

Right now, the overall mood is a seesaw one between glowing, self-congratulatory awe and O Plz Goddess don't let us throttle the toddler. We're riding it, it's cool.