I feel completely nervous about the idea of weaning. We've only just cracked the routine of breast feeding and now it's like, 'here you go love, here's a banana, what do you reckon to that?' I know I can't breast feed her until she's 5, (although lots of women in Chat magazine do,) but I feel so conflicted by it all. There's something so precious about knowing you can provide something for your baby that no one else can. That you can calm her and comfort her. That you're a walking fridge for whenever she's hungry. Not only am I anticipating a whole load of tears from both of us, but part of me doesn't want to stop feeding her at all. As if it's the first step to her becoming independent. That she's not going to need just me anymore.
This feeling comes as no surprise to be honest. One of the biggest changes since Nancy, is how hugely emotional I've become. Now I'd be the first to admit that I liked a good blub pre Nancy, but it usually followed several large glasses of vin rouge, a bicker about I'm not sure what, the realisation half way through that I'd lost my train of thought and had probably made a massive fuss over nothing, and then the predictable big teared cry to try and salvage the situation somehow.
But now it's genuine upset, and anything related to children, or relationships, or the bond between people can be the trigger. And it doesn't have to be bad stuff, they can be celebratory tears for how ace people can be to each other. Like when Becky, a long standing member of Coronation Street left a couple of weeks ago, and she had to say goodbye to Roy and Haley, the odd couple from the cafe who she adored- that brought on a surprise shoulder shaking cry. Or David Attenborough talking on Desert Island Discs of how London Zoo had asked him to look after a shy gibbon who had loved his wife so much he wouldn't let her put him down. Steve Wright's Love Hour is a rollercoaster of one tear jerking dedication after another. Or when someone is voted off Masterchef, their dreams scuppered as all they've ever wanted to do was work in a professional kitchen. Even Free Willy 3, which has to be up there as one of the all time rubbishest films after 'Snakes on a Plane', especially as the cute boy has hit uncomfortable puberty, but still, worthy of a few tears at the end. And anything baby related is an absolute guarantee. I cry at the opening credits of One Born Every Minute. And Ben says I literally ran back into the front room when a placenta was mentioned on 'The Midwife.'
But anything where children are harmed is enough to make me want to barricade the front door and never let Nancy out into the real world. Take a Break magazine has lost one of their most loyal customers, as I can't read any of the features now as most stories are about a poor child who has been mistreated. I wonder if this just what happens when you have children. You 'go soft', as Ben says. That you are responsible for another person, their welfare and happiness, and suddenly other people's vulnerabilities seem so much more raw, you want to look after them as well. Or maybe it just means I'm going to spend the rest of my life bealing my face off every time I see a puppy who looks like it needs a cuddle, and all this completely unaided by wine. Sheesh.