My Give-a-Damn is Busted

Over the last few years, I have had several occasions come up where I was truly shocked at how unaffected I was by them.

From simple things like Will falling and skinning his knee while Steve and I watch him ride his bike. Steve jumps up and runs over to check on him and I sit in the chair and sip my drink. If I'm out watching Will ride by myself and he falls down, I yell, "Get out of the middle of the road," and wait for him to come to me. Yet, at the time it's happening, I remember when I jumped and ran for the girls when something similar happened.

I can say, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that the change in reaction is not due to a lack of affection. I love all my children. I'm just not the same person now that I was when my girls were little.

There have been many other instances over the last few years: my waning (read nonexistent) interest in holidays, lack of participation in Will's school events (I attend what I have to, but don't ask me to do any more than that), determination not to sign Will up for after school activities, etc.

Another big instance of a lack of interest arrived when Lew and Dona returned from their latest trip to ND. They brought back a cradle that Steve made out of Mesquite and I fashioned linens for before Will was born. Steve sent it up to Dave years ago for his son, and now Dave has returned it.

The cradle means something significant to both Steve and Dave. And it should, I guess. Counting Linden, every male Marquardt from Lew's side of the family will have slept in the cradle. Besides that, it was made by Steve, and Tori burned a longhorn in both sides of it. Hell, I even made the linens.

So, was I excited to have it back? No. All I can think about is that I had already purchased a cradle, disinfected it, purchased linens for it and washed them, and have it made up and in place for the baby. I also happen to have a bassinet in the living room and a crib in the nursery. Now I have another bed to clean up and I have to figure where the hell they are all going to go. I can't even get rid of the other cradle as it is nearly twice the size of the one Steve made. I don't think Will slept in the homemade cradle but about 6 weeks.

As I work on the crib, I keep wondering about my lack of enthusiasm. Not just about the crib, but about a lot of things. I don't think it's my age, as Steve and I are the same age and he still gives a damn about many things I've lost interest in.

I'm wondering if it has more to do with the years I've already been a parent. After 20 years of jumping and running for each bump and scrape, diving head-first into school activities, and really trying to impress your children with holidays--

Maybe I'm just worn out.

Or again, maybe my give-a-damn really is busted.