I was going to write a post about our wonderful holiday in France. A fantastic week to be rounded off with a trip to London. It was planned and organised – and then Arthur was poorly. Luckily nothing serious and just after we got home from hols. But made me think about how these small people come along and from the moment they decide to make their entrance planning and organisation as we know it is defunct.
Labour descends on you whether you feel ready or not. A tiny little bundle screams through the night and there’s often little you can do. Time is heavy with anticipation, hope, fear and very little planning.
I never realised how easily I would hand over control, how quickly life becomes consumed with someone else’s welfare. They are wiley canny little creatures, illness comes on in minutes, tantrums engulf like thunder and recede as quickly.
I am no longer a woman who knows, truly what will happen next week, I just think I do. I’m sitting drinking another cup of tea. Waiting for Arthur to wake up, waiting to see what he will do next and what he needs me to do -it’s boring.
Time no longer falls into the months ahead, it sits on my lap and wonders what we’ll make for tea. It means I will think about dinner for every one soon. It’s the play date we might have Saturday if he’s better.
Paradoxically I think about his future a lot. but I’m torn away when he needs a poo or decides something needs ‘mending’. A good thing perhaps.
Get well soon Arthur, I’ve got tea to plan. Xx