Squeezing in Memories

As I sit in Lincoln's room while he is drifting off to sleep on this eve of my 35th birthday, my mind is wandering in a zillion directions.  I've thought about what I was doing 10 years ago as I approached the quarter-century mark ( I hadn't even met J) yet.  I've thought about the first birthday I spent with Lincoln.  And as the smell of baby powder wafts from various items in the room, I know it will soon enough be replaced with "big boy" smells, and my heart is sad. I'm not ready to be done rocking babies, and I hate that I didn't get to choose it myself.  I think this has been my most dreaded birthday since my 21st-two weeks after my beloved aunt died suddenly of a heart attack.  

I won't rehash all of the things that this birthday "means," as it seems I've been whining about it in the past few posts.  I guess that just means it's weighed on my mind for quite some time, huh?  I know that age is just a number, and most people guess me younger anyway.  But it doesn't change the facts.  I just wish acceptance was easier.  

Lincn and I went to his favorite place yesterday-the grocery store (no joke).  Aside from putting his shoe back on fifteen thousand times, we had a good day.  Potty training is not going well.  He thinks we're being mean to him if we suggest he sit on the potty.  Tonight we got him a little prize and told him he could have it if he'd pee-pee in the potty.  Of course, I'm the meanie who wouldn't let him open it anyway.  He at least sat down.    Baby steps, I guess...