I see an awful lot of 5.30ams these days. Previously, I would have looked on this as a time only acceptable from the other side; no sane person would ever willingly be up and awake at that hour, out of warm cosy bed and dealing with the freezing cold morning. These days however I come equipped with an alarm clock that can’t be silenced, as much as I shush him and attempt to grapple five more minutes of sleep, he is in control of the sleep and having gone to bed at 9pm the night before, he’s happily all done with that. Really, I should start going to bed that early myself… Read More
This is not a broody post. Promise. This is also definitely not an indication that another sprog will be entering the equation any time soon; no siree, we are a family of three and happy that way for the foreseeable (20:20 vision) future. The things I do not miss about being pregnant (a much longer list) have certainly made that one definite – that and the fact that I’ve yet to discover the sleepful nights, no nappies part of this parenting craic, nor proved myself able to keep something alive for more than a year. That’s definitely a goal I should attempt to meet before deciding the first one went well so another would be grand. It didn’t work out so well for any plant I’ve ever owned (god love that aloe vera, it takes effort to kill those…) but he seems to be faring well. Anyway, point made, this is a broody but not broody post, inspired by a pregnancy announcement by a lovely blogger friend of mine.
Speaking to a friend of mine the other day over tea, I was informed I’d have to make a list, when her time came to join the mammy-hood, of the essential things she’d need to have. I myself made use of many of these lists, including this one from the lovely Sinead at Bumbles of Rice. There are so many of them all over the internet, that you spend your pregnancy looking at, and worrying that you won’t have enough, or that you have too much (the more likely one). These, however, were my absolute must-haves; the survival kit which made life easier, which is definitely what you want when your world has been turned upside down by a tiny (cute) tyrant.
Ah reading, my old friend, the thing I used to do before my spare time was taken up with blogging, and singing “Ali Baba had a big farm” (to myself, sans child, before cursing myself for singing the bloody thing again). I was one of those children who literally devoured books – under the covers with a torch after bedtime, hiding them in school books to finish a chapter, even my go-to place in a toy shop, if lost, was the book section. I saw myself as a bit of a Matilda, minus the dysfunctional family and the magical powers, though I always envied the magic powers. Though life is now taken up more with watching things, and writing things, and saying I’ll get around to reading things, there is no denying that there is no better relaxation than curling up with a hot cup of tea, a duvet and a book you’re looking forward to reading.
Today is the second day of August, the eighth month of the year. It’s almost a year to the day that I found out I was pregnant last year – that has simply flown. I sit here now with my gorgeous little man in my arms, accustomed to sleep deprivation, able to make up bottles with one hand and no longer disgusted by much of anything that may get on my person – dealing with baby explosions of all types will do that to you. Back then I was pure terrified – 21, not feeling like a grown up at all, much less a responsible one who would be in charge of making sure someone else had a good life. (To be fair, not much has changed there. Mammy guilt is ever present.)
Before I start, I should confess that I’m a feminist. Now, not one of those bra-burning man hating ones, just one of those normal ones who believes that men and women should be treated as equals, and who wants to strangle those who come out with “Back in the kitchen” jokes.