Must remember...

It has been a very different weekend from the ones that I usually have. I mean, from the ones that I have gotten used to having. I mean, the ones where being a mum just spills over from weekdays into weekends and back into weekdays. From nights into days and back on into the nights. You get it right?

So it's been a bit different. Got a few hours out to do some no-running-after-toddler adult conversation. It felt super amazing to just be able to talk about something without a thousand interruptions. Or without the fear that the boy is going to walk into traffic. Or fall into the river. Or try to eat a brick or something. You get the picture.

So having had some time out, one came to the conclusion that one makes decisions and then one forgets to stick to them. Like the decision to not get too worked up by the slightest of provocations. Therefore, a 'must-remember' list is in order I'd say.

Having had some time to reflect upon what this list should comprise of, I think I can, pretty much, distill it down to one little thing.

I must remember... to forgive. Not just verbally, but mentally.

And cut the people who are doing a fair job of allowing me this much needed 'me-time' some well-earned slack.

Must remember to do that.

Of trust, and the like

What is trust? Do we really know at all? When we were younger, in the comforting days of life in school, we played a game.It was called the trust-game. You had to close your eyes and face your friend. Then, with your eyes closed, you had to fall into her arms. Easy.

Not quite it seems. The trouble is the mind. It won't let you let yourself fall. It takes a lot of trust in the other person to be able to fall into her arms, with the confidence that she will hold you and not let you fall.

Now let us imagine, you have worked hard with a friend on this game. And you have brought yourself to let yourself go. Slowly and gently you have built your trust in her, to the extent that you know that you can safely leave yourself in her hands.

And then, one regular day, in a fairly normal session of the trust-game, she backs off. You fall flat on your face. Both body and pride are bruised extensively, pride more than anything else. What do you do? How will you react? What's the status of your trust?

Once the shock of the event and the bodily pain have gone, how do you deal with the injured sense of self? You ask your friend why she did what she did. She had her reasons - you had wronged her, in her opinion, the day before and so she decided to hurt you. When you explain to her your point, she apologizes and promises never to break your trust again. All is well in paradise and she is keen to resume the trust-game.

What do you do? No, seriously, what do you do?

I have been away, mostly battling medical issues and thwarting life's cruel plans to make things more and more difficult. Can't say I've had much success, but hey, I'm alive still. And N gives me a few reasons to smile everyday. He is now saying 'Mamma' and melting my heart constantly. The one silver lining to what seems like a thunderous jet black cloud ready to explode without warning.

Actually, make that one of two. Couldn't have survived the last few weeks without this brilliant man.

The only way to do it

Get away, that is. The only way to do it is suddenly. Drop everything on your plate, except the baby, who in any case will be in your arms and not on the plate, and make a run for it. That is exactly what we did last Friday.

Not that we intended to, and that is the precise point. N had been grumpy lately, thanks to the not-so-nice after effects of the MMR jab. A quick trip to and chat with the doc revealed nothing to worry about. So when he got up Friday morning, whining and generally grumpy, A and I knew what the rest of the Easter break was going to be like - not very pleasant, to say the least.

A few phone calls, and we were off. Record breaking time taken in packing self, luggage and baby. All aboard A's much-loved automobile, and we were on our way to the Midlands, on a genuine, spur of the moment, fully impulsive getaway.

And what a wonderful time we had!

To more impulsive decisions - the ones that turn out alright!

Ladies in lavender

Few slow films have the capacity to move you so much. Ladies in lavender is a beautiful story about two sisters who rescue a young foreigner washed ashore. Their feelings for and around this young man make the movie. The direction is subtle yet crisp, the story flows slowly, gently but decidedly. Judi Dench and Maggi Smith are stars in their simplicity. The variety of emotions they are able to convey without speaking a word - acting at its best, at least from the little cinema that I have seen.

On another note, the picturisation of Cornwall, the sea, the pebbly sand, the rocky shores - oh what absolute beauty! The quaint village life, the tiny lavender wreaths on old china, the fireplaces and the cut-work on the cotton night gowns, what loveliness! I want to go to Cornwall and stay in exactly that cottage by the sea!

T asked me today if I had seen any new movies lately, and I told her, quite honestly, that I had seen one in the last twelve months. This makes it two, the other one being this.

The first birthday party

It came too soon. We celebrated with some close friends, lots of baby food for the little ones, and a very fruity cake.

I guess this is what they mean when they say, "they grow up so fast!". There is so much to catch, and such little time.

Of surprises, good and bad

• A valentine's gift when we had clearly agreed there weren't going to be any. And to top it, it was the one that I have been wanting forever, just never getting it, because I would never get it for myself. When I asked A why he did it, his reply was, 'because.' This husband of mine never ceases to surprise me.
• A nasty throat infection that took me by serious surprise. And then started getting complicated so I am on a surprisingly old antibiotic because of other issues. How bizarre.
• Is it a surprise that A has finished his course of antibiotics (yes we are a bit ill as a family) but is still as unwell as he was when he started out?
• N had his 12th month vaccination today and surprised us all by not uttering even the tiniest of squeals when the needle went in. Instead he looked surprisingly at the nurse, she too surprised for words at the boy who didn't cry when poked. A and I were beyond surprise - we had mentally prepared ourselves for a non-stop howling session. What a pleasant surprise!

Back to the grind

As a certain fast food company would say, 'I'm loving it'! Being back at work that is. So far, the balance suits be just fine - three days of getting dressed for work, the train, the underground, the commuters rushing about, the buzz of the city, the research, the policy debates, the happy colleagues, the cheerful office banter, the leaving on the dot to get to the nursery in time, the smile from the little fella as he rushes into my arms, the brisk walk back home and the big cuddles. All very nice indeed.

And then, four days of jeans and sneakers and t-shirts stained with baby food, the rushing to the library to be in time for Rhyme Time, the singing as we play, the peekaboos and the clap,clap,claps, the super fast crawling, the wanting to grab everything that attract's his growing fancy, the new tricks every day, the attempts at yoga that end up in giggly laughter, the cup cakes and the teas, the waiting for daddy to get back home so we can pounce on him. So much fun.

So a bit of a pause in this happy balance, caused by an irritable upper respiratory tract infection, is seriously bringing me down. Can't wait to be back to the routine again.