How do single parents do it? HOW, HOW, and often with multiple kids? [Twangy faints from sheer amazement]. The JB has been away for THREE nights eating bonbons in a bubble bath (academic conference, my eye, he's not fooling me) and I am an empty husk with a muscle in my eyelid jumping away like a jumping bean, and an unexplained burn on my hand. Also, I've become very stupid with tiredness. Last night, I stood in the hallway for minutes wondering how I could leave the front door locked and still allow him to enter with his keys. If I left the key in the lock, his key wouldn't be able to enter and turn, I reasoned, very, very slowly. If I unlocked the lock with my key however and removed my key, I would leave myself open to thieves, robbers and highwaymen. More time passed while my brain groped agonisingly toward its conclusion. REMOVE THE KEY LEAVING THE DOOR LOCKED, it shrieked in eureka-like style, in slow motion. Ahh.
The physical strength component to parenting is another thing I didn't know to expect. I have better upper body strength than in my whole life (probably not saying much), actual muscle definition. He is 24 or so pounds and likes to be held so this is a simple physics formula. I go through calories like a barn on fire, too.
Uhhhhh. I've been very busy, apart from that. There was a funding deadline, a work deadline, anther work thing, a whole lot of hoo-ha about finding people to stand in for me at the two work gigs I missed because of the bonbons, a Betty head which lasted a week, the world is on fire, I got overwhelmed and demoralised, like everyone, (everyone normal that is, there are those who are making this happen, after all) and I dunno, the rest is lost in the mists of time.
We are now deep into the time of tossing food on the floor with force and peering after it with interest, a time of rolling over in the cot into up dog, and saying EYE for hi, and even knowing that the sheep says baa and the duck says ACK. He's at peak baby. He's great company. He giggles in a half-horrified half-thrilled way when I offer him new food as if to say: Okay, Ma, I'll go along with your mad caper, but then we're going back to the proper food, right? He takes little squares of toast very carefully in his fingers, as if they might be booby-trapped, and sucks off the butter. He'll eat most things, and about half the time he'll sleep what they call through the night, from 1 to 6 or but is actually merely through the wee small hours. He has an upper tooth now, an incisor (I think) which he uses to make appalling gnashing noises with his lower ones. Ahhh! It's awful. I took him on the train to see my mother and he enjoyed looking out the window enormously. He was thrilled. We were moving! He can see so much further, his life is expanding. It's much easier to relate to him; he's less mysterious. He goes swimming now and to baby yoga and enjoys these as long as no strangers look at him too closely. He is not fond of strangers, mostly, except when he is and then they are favoured with a broad smile.
It is frosty out today in Eastern Ireland, in case you were interested. I must hit the road in an effort to get some presents for the Christmas, so this will have to do for now. Better done than perfect, will be written on my tombstone. More soon, friends.
I hope you're well.