Double-whammy part II, or why my brain has abandoned me!
The verdict is in: parenthood has addles my brain.
While I used to blame 'juvenile Alzheimer' for my occasional forgetfulness, my brain has definitely abandoned me now, losing all capability of retaining much of anything at this point.
Including writing my second part of this post yesterday.... maybe I can manage to still be in Saturday in some time zone out there. For the rest of you, my brain and I sincerelyapologise.
Finally, a section from my drafts, a little peek into the time before Masch's arrival, for your delectation:
We are having a relaxed Sunday at home, the three of us still in pyjamas
and enjoying the fact that we having nothing to do. The sun is out again,
gracing us with its presence after being in hiding most of this week, Baby is
playing with his bead maze on the floor, Hubby is reading and I have decided to
make some bread. This desire does not overcome me very often, but today it has.
Yeast was on sale at our supermarket recently and I have a craving for poppy
seed bread and challah, so away we go. Yeah for making a great big mess in the
kitchen, lovely smells coming from the oven, and some junk TV on in the
I am in the middle of packing away the challah dough to rise for
another hour when I feel a small tap on my foot. I look down, and low-and-behold,
Misch has made it all the way over into the kitchen from his spot in the middle
of the living room floor to come and see what I am up to. I get a toothy grin
between a mass of curls from my little boy, obviously proud of his achievement,
and lift him up to celebrate this milestone. Our baby can move! And at what
speed! A minute ago he was still where I had left him in the middle of the
living room floor.
I put him back down, keen to see where he will be off to
next, exploring unknown territories. Off he goes, skootching his way over the
floor in a Rambo-like fashion, a style similar to what I imagine soldiers learn
to do when having to keep low in combat: arms pulling him forwards, and knees
out to the sides, pumping along in the rhythm his feet push him forwards. Two
more minutes and he has checked out at the perimeter of the kitchen and is on
his way to the bin, which is made of metal and therefore a great new noisy toy
to him. As yet it is too big for him to tip it over.
Wow, our child is crawling! Of his own fashion, the but hasn’t
quite made it into the air yet, but he gets where he wants to be. And that
seems to be pretty much everywhere he can get to on the floor without obstacles
in his way. Damn the parents and their furniture.
It dawns on Hubby and me that now the time begins when not only to
we have to secure all the sockets, which we, as good and conscientious parents
have, of course, already done, but also get everything in Misch’s reach out of
the way. The days of breakable items on bottom shelves and sewing kits in open
cabinets are definitely over. While this realization sinks in, Misch is happily
chowing down on one of Hubby’s shoes which he has found near our entrance door.