I am getting into this blogging thing.  I do like to write, and I like to write for imaginary audiences. I don't want to forget or lose this (as I would a journal.) It helps.  I wish I had a camera.  I wish that I could know how to upload pictures from my camera (I am almost positive that that is the right way to put it.)  As I walk through the house, trying to clean it up a little, and really trying to think about organization, I find dolls put to bed--in the living room, in my place on our bed, and in the laundry room.   Pea is a very concientious mother.  She really only has two beloved dolls--others come and go, but Valerie and Buttercup Anne are the constants.  She also cares for Harry, Dumpling's doll, as Dumpling is, at three, kind of young to be a mother.  (Although talking about his new cousin Ellie, Dumpling said that he was going to kiss her and hug her gently, and also nurse her.  More on that later.)  She brought Valerie with us to Earthfare the other day--Buttercup Anne doesn't like shopping so she stayed home.  And she and Dumpling used the bathroom (I held Valerie) then Valerie's diaper had to be changed, on the changing table.  She has so many stories about her children and her techniques for soothing them and nursing them and wearing them and not wearing them.  I am utterly charmed.  And I know this, like Dumpling's extreme contrariness, will pass.  But I love it while it's here.

Also, I have just been reading this wonderful blog,  http://talkfeeleez.typepad.com/, and it is making me think.  She talks about empathy for our children, and avoiding praise, and I love it.  She doesn't believe in punishment--I don't either, really, although sometimes I lose it and seem to.   Also, she posted a video clip of her talking to her three year old about why she liked to nurse.  It was funny--the little girl had the same chubby cheeks as Dumpling.  They kind of looked alike, like maybe nursing does something that makes three year olds look particularly cute...anyway, it calmed me down.  It is okay to be nursing still.  It is unusual, but it is not damaging or gross.  I don't know when the little man will be ready to stop nursing, but he will.  And then I will miss it, I suppose.