Spanked With Literary Devices

You, my faithful readers, are surely smart enough to figure out the hilarity of these recent events.

I leave Pick'n'Save and the checker mentions that I have "saved" $65.91 by shopping there.

I practically crash my car reading the fine print on the billboard that reads "Poor Weather Conditions Don't Cause Accidents. Distracted Drivers Do."

And today, as I am leaning over to scoop my dog's shit into an old Target bag, he kicks grass and dirt into my face.

Nostalgia

The term nostalgia describes a yearning for the past, often in idealized form.^[1] The word is a learned formation of a Greek compounds, consisting of νόστος, nóstos, "returning home", a Homeric word, and ἄλγος, álgos, "pain" or "ache". It was described as a medical condition, a form of melancholy, in the Early Modern period, and came to be an important topic in Romanticism.^{[1]
(Wikipedia.org)}

My computer cycles through old photos randomly as a screen saver. I wouldn't rewind time even if I could, but I found the nostalgia of the baby pictures crippling last night. Little Jack, pre-haircut, with blond ringlets and disproportionately long eyelashes, playing trains. Sylvie, all crashed out in the bouncey seat, the pink nuk securely in place. Joey (aka Ronco, because you could "set'em and forget'em!") kicking happily in the Bjorn, tight against my chest. These are memories that make me ache with pride and euphoria.

The camera lies, though; the camera did not catch the MANY hours of ravaged sleep, screaming, tantrums, spills, and loneliness which I know were also a big part of these past five years. I cried more than I laughed, cursed more than I cooed. I am beginning to let go of some of the drama and embrace the memories that will forever shape me. I will become one of those dreaded old ladies that tells you not to "wish those years away" because I, too, will have forgotten the intensity of the bullshit. Memory serves us well in this way.

But here is what this is really about: It is time for me to grieve the end of that phase in my life. If you had told me two years ago that saying goodbye to pregnancy and newborns and diapers and nursing would be difficult, I would have howled with laughter. And here I am, grieving a loss I didn't know existed. I occasionally get phantom abdominal movements or experience the sensation of let-down when I hear a baby cry. Motherhood is deeply a part of who I have become, and the transition from young mother to mother-of-young-hoodlums is my new challenge.