tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6522320330123418656.post744625893374573674..comments2015-04-11T10:15:55.034-07:00Comments on FUNK PONIES: Doing HairUnknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger1125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6522320330123418656.post-58330784458675250562012-04-22T22:06:51.931-07:002012-04-22T22:06:51.931-07:00This weekend we attended a wedding in San Diego. A...This weekend we attended a wedding in San Diego. A night wedding; the kind where food is served around 8pm. By the time the dance floor started going, 5-year old Avery was asleep in her Daddy's arms. Legs dangling, face pink, twirly dress all askew. I announced at that moment that this was likely THE VERY LAST TIME this would ever happen. I'm quite confident of that. He was happy to sit with her, just as he has since she was born, and said he will miss this part of being a parent. The crazy thing is, the finality of it doesn't bother me. I did a lot of holding, cradling, softly rocking for years, and I was obsessed with being present to it. And now, I'm all filled up. I no longer yearn for a baby in my arms. This feels good to me, but then, because I seem to be the only person who feels this way, I'm also a tad alarmed that it's another indicator of a festering black heart. :)Staceynoreply@blogger.com