I honestly thought I'd be excited. And I am. No more diaper bag. No more embarrassing blow outs in the middle of a restaurant. No more cramped diaper changing tables in places I wouldn't eat at much less get my child naked in and not enough sanitizer in the world to fix the bathroom floor changes, over clothes and jackets when a table isn't available...not that I ever did that...much.
But it's a rite of passage. I passed the baby aisle today and had a moment of sadness...no bottles, no food, no wipes or creams and now...finally...the last to go...no more diapers. I couldn't wait for this moment - after four kids I could build a diaper island with what I've gone through in waste but I just see this as the end of a era. It marks the end of "baby" - the end of pretending I didn't notice that his diaper is hanging to his knees in fluid because I just sat down. Proudly powdering and pampering a new tush and then the blueberries kicked in; praying that wasn't my kid that shut down the pool after a swim diaper malfunction. I don't mourn it...I just realize it's an ending and like any mother, I am prone to missing the things we never thought we'd miss.
Not that in fourty years, when I'm changing Joseph it won't bring back memories but let's just say, it may not have the same magic.
Onward and upward.