Breasts on a plate

Missed my Ashtanga Yoga class last night. Felix cluing to me and cried saying 'makes me so sad, you go yoga' with big drippy tears. Ahh! It is my only hour and a half away from him in the entire week! You'd think I abandoned him all day every day the way he clung monkey like to me. I think he was just tired and I didn't mind so much to be honest, though I always thought attached babies would be happy to see their mamas go off for a bit, or at least not mind too much once they'd reached a certain age. Isaac has always been fine and dandy but I suppose Felix must not have reached the certain age of pleasant goodbyes. I try to reason with myself that there will be plenty of time for yoga classes in a while once he is a bit older and more resiliant. I think this is what is stopping me from contemplating another pregnancy yet. I'd like for all of my children to be age-related playmates for sure, but I feel as though I have just spent five years without a scrap of time to do anything for myself. Some days I don't feel as if I have had even five minutes to think my own thoughts. This is the true of most AP mama's I imagine, and though I really do see myself with one last baby, I just want to have a couple of years first to:

Start learning to play the piano
Take a herbal medicine course
Increase Ashtanga classes
Learn to spin and dye my own wool
Time for writing

Felix is so much wanting to nurse still. He will be 3 in march and he nurses like he did aged 1. I do so want him to have weaned before another babe takes my breasts. Will I have anything resembling breasts left I wonder...? I can lift up a breast and it lies in my palm flat as though resting on a plate! In one way I am pround of their shape, I mean, they resemble that of a woman well versed in the art of nursing. Another bit of me is dismayed that my 26 year old breasts are tribe like 40 yr old ones. When I was 18 in my mind and soul I felt used and worn out and so so old. In my heart and soul now I feel bouyant and young but I look at my breasts and they have long slivers of silver running down them, and whilst my nipples point outwards rather than down, they look well, well-sucked. Right now as I type I am being hassled for my sharing of 'miwwky'. And having a conversation about putting a tent up in the garden. And negotiating how best to spend the day. One boy has taught himself to click his tounge on the roof of his mouth and so the clacking and sucking noise follows us everywhere. I must go to the bookshop today. Must. (Preferably without children - can I rope my mother into our plans?) So must one boy visit the wood adventure playground in Hamsterly forest. Another wants to do clay modelling (I'd like to make an offering bowl).

I do so hope they will always be filled will desires to use their little bodies and hands and minds.

The Ancient Mother pendant arrived: