If You Can’t Say Something Nice…
Today nearly slipped by without a blog. Today was hard. Physically I feel like crap right now and trying to be funny feels forced. So grumbles it shall be. Sorry about that.
I’m very sore and I can’t find a comfortable position to sleep in: the Internet and everyone on it suggests I try sleeping in a recliner. Who has a fucking recliner? I’ll just book a business-class flight somewhere every night, shall I? The fatigue and pain make me sad because these are my last weeks as just May Blossom’s mummy, and I’m no fun at all for her. We are so lucky to have family nearby and for H to have some flexibility in his work, so she does not lack for people to do fun things with, but I wish it were me. And it does make me cry when my only-just two year old looks at me and says with enormous sympathy, ‘Djou gotta sore pelvis, Mummy? Ohhhhh.’
May Blossom has also gone off kisses, which is a bit devastating because she has always been so free and forthcoming with them for H and me. She still loves cuddles, but now we get a lot of “Wipe it off!” shouted at us when we dare to sneak a peck. I’m sure it’s common for her age, and I try hard to respect her growing sense of self and its attendant boundaries, but it does suck because mostly I just want to nom on her cheeks and chin and feet. Good thing I’ll have a newborn soon, utterly defenceless and lacking in verbal skills, to smother in affection. It makes sense to me now why lot of people space their kids roughly two years apart: it’s so the periods of no baby to kiss are kept to a minimum.
I’m also starting to regret my rash promise to blog every day until the baby is born. Do you know how often new days come about? Really bloody often. Like every twenty-four hours. Mad. I have Thumper’s mother from Bambi‘s voice in my ear: ‘If you can’t say something nice, don’t say nothin’ at all.’ It’s not a helpful voice to be hearing right now and it might lead to you good people getting some wordless, photo-heavy posts of Holidays I Have Taken, Meals I Have Cooked, Flowers I Have Seen and Pictures Of My Hair From The Back in the coming days, unless life gets markedly more exciting and/or I open up a big cold can of Cheer The Fuck Up.