I was looking forward stealing some time to write a blog again. I realized I miss the typing sensation, the quick movement of fingers across the keyboard, the pride when I don't make any mistakes and just type and type, the wonder of making the mistakes and seeing how many different ways can letters a-n-d go before they end up as and (more than three ways if you make proper mistake and mix in different letters), the sound of typing, the flow of the thoughts.
And then I sat at the computer while child is amusing husband and thought: what to write about? Is there anything worth mentioning? So: I am trying to do a mega load of laundry and dry it outside. The weather report said something about light showers by midday. Rain started after midday when I assumed I am safe and it seems to come and go in strong showers. Every time I empty the machine I look at the sky, believe it is clearing up, start the next load and hang the finished one. As I step into the house the rain starts.
And it is what my life is about now. Laundry. Cooking. Shopping. And fourteen month old darling hanging either on my leg or my boob enjoying separation anxiety.
We had our first overseas trip at the end of May and child was a great traveler, perfect in the plains and trains, amusing all the people we visited. Then, until today we had visitors from overseas at ours, so for a change it was us (me) caring for them, tidying, cooking and shopping. Child was doing its job of being amusing and angelic. Until they left and I realized child expects the extra pair of hands to practice walking with and playing and entertaining nonstop.
Trying for baby number two is still bringing mixed results. All the meetings and greetings means husband doesn't have to worry about super healthy life style, he hears a lot about responsibility, I hear a lot about enjoyment of life and moderation. Now the bloody world cup started I can forget about anything happening because by the time the games end I am in coma. So there we go again. Somehow everything works out for him and I have to compromise. I am starting to think I should let go, count my blessings and be happy for what I have. Maybe having only one child means I could get a job and write a book few years sooner which is good. But why do I feel so broody????