(For anyone who doesn’t know about the joy of treat yo’self, please do yourself a favour and watch Parks and Recreation. So. damn. funny.)
I realised the other day that I find it difficult to remember Life Before Kids. Heavens, I even find it difficult to remember life before two kids – or at least, before the pregnancy which started right around this time last year.
Ohhhh but this being a mom thing is hard sometimes, isn’t it? With T-10 days left of maternity leave, I am currently in the process of letting go of Ella and doing nanny handover with our lovely nanny, Noli. While I know they will love each other (because Arty already loves Noli), this initial phase is so hard. Ella is used to being with me – many times attached to me – because I’ve had to run around after her big brother so much that she’s had a lot more holding than if she was an only child. She’s my little girlie, why wouldn’t I want to hold her?!
Honestly, as a parent, everything is about last night. Kids sleep well / only woke once / only woke twice? Today is manageable! I am woman, hear me roar! I can function as a normal human being!
Kids decide they needed to wake up every hour / countless times or be plagued by nightmares / thirst / needing to hold hands? Today is one long road to bedtime, fueled by caffeine and sugar. Normal human beings are so far from related to me I may be a chimp. And not the cute kind.
One of my favourite outings is to take the kids to the local library. It only takes about half an hour, but I love everything about it: the way the library smells, the possibility of all those books on all those shelves, the lovely library man who lets Arthur stamp his books and the fact that when we get home with our seven new books, he’s entertained for ages. But the other day, during my daily 20 minutes to myself (literally: I have 20 minutes to myself each day, and the hour between 8 and 9pm with Mark) I took myself on a special treat and went to the library by myself. Solo! No toddler! No baby in the carrier! Just me and allll those books.
On Friday last week, Arthur announced that he wasn’t wearing nappies any more. He’s two and a half, so this is a developmentally appropriate announcement to make, but dear God in heaven did it fill me with terror.
It feels like a few lifetimes since I last had a blog. But I remember – vividly – how much I loved it… I had just moved to Cape Town (10 years ago this year!) and was sharing a flat in the wrong part of the City Bowl, working my first job as features writer at Real Simple, motoring around town on a scooter I didn’t really know how to drive. My novel, Strange Nervous Laughter, was about to be published and life felt suffused with possibility and magic. I remember scooting into the autumn evenings exploring the city, being amazed how many bakeries there were in Cape Town and feeling so very lucky that I got to write for a living… And that anyone cared enough to read it.
