Today Kale is 8 months old. It’s fabulous. The guy is rocking and rolling. Just this last weekend he started actively crawling. Before, he was crawling, but not like he is now. He’s also discovered (OK, so it’s a bit more complicated than that) how to pull himself up. I now realize, I had way more time than I thought I did before. Before I could sit him down and know he’d stay in the general range. Now, I put him down and bam-he’s crawling on something, knocking something over, pulling things that should not be pulled (cords, comforters, etc) and generally continuing his journey as a small and astoundingly curious person.
Yesterday Michael and I watched him push his baby lotion bottle around on the floor and make car sounds as he pushed it. No kidding, he’s 8 months old and he totally gets pretend play. It was momentous in a very surreal way. I used to think people were crazy when they ran around saying things like, “they grow so fast” and “they won’t stay that small forever.” It’s true, but I still expect my husband to throw rocks at me if I start spouting those and similar euphemisms.
Other new developments include him sleeping through the night. I know, awesome right? The irony is that I’m now more tired than before and I struggle to get up at 5 or 6am for his first feeding. I’ve lost a lot of momentum & if someone asked if I could choose between winning the lottery or a week on an island with a nanny, chef and 5 books, I’d take the island.
This feeling of fatigue and malaise may also be related to recent events. A week ago today we buried my grandmother. I can’t write about how strange, eerie and painful it’s been to think about never physically seeing her again. I feel like a budding bi-polar borderline.
Regardless, what I wanted to write about today is how strange it is for me to have a new last name. We’ve been married just over two months and I finally got around to both the social security and mvd offices. Side note: both places have consumed large pockets of precious time and both places employ very delusional people who seriously overestimate the actual nature of their jobs. Seriously, I think you have to be both anti-social and learning disabled to work for those places. I wonder what the employment application looks like?
Back to the point: I miss my last name. There, I said it. I didn’t realize I’d miss my last name. I thought-heck, I want to change my name, I’ve always wanted to change it, and well-I wanted the same last name as my son. And, as nice of a name as it is-it just doesn’t feel like mine. I hasn’t done any traveling. It wasn’t there when Trina wrapped my braids around the screws on the back of my metal chair in kindergarten. This name hasn’t run over the mesas of New Mexico. This name hasn’t laughed until my stomach ached. It wasn’t there when I hobbled on crutches in graduate school because I wiped out while mountain biking & the bastard leg got infected. My new last name feels like a hitchhiker. It feels like an alien.
Fortunately for me, I happen to like aliens. (Thanks mom.) It’s just going to take a while to get used to. Today I’m changing my documents at work. I’d already contacted the bank and changed my professional license. This is the last event and the last place I have/use my maiden name. Goodbye Saunders, thank you for the stability. Hello BC, let’s see what you’ve got in store for me.