about time:
Monday, July 23, 2007
never enough of it, and never at the right time of day. When I'm looking after both daughters there is none whatsoever so don't even think of sneaking off to check email;* when it's just me and Maggie things are easier becaue little babies sleep. But they sleep unpredictably, and when she does go down, I find myself in such a quandary as to what to do with the precious interval that I waste half of it faffing and dithering between the two top competing activities on the What I'll Do When I Actually Get A Few Minutes To Myself list. Said faffing and dithering exacerbated by the absolute uncertainty as to how long the interval will be: she's just gone to sleep in her bouncy chair &ndash can I maybe embark on cleaning out the fridge, or should I bet conservatively and just try to get ten minutes yoga in?
On the subject of yoga, am enjoying what the magazines call getting my body back, as though it had been in some sort of reproductive pawnbrokers for all these months, awaiting redemption. Now I've got it back, at least for the periods of the day when it's not plugged into Maggie, and so I am able to stomp and puff up and down the hills and ridges of Newlands, pushing Maggie in the three-wheeler. This makes her go to sleep for hours; on our return I park her in a corner and sneak off, once more confronted with the how much time, and what to do with it? conundrum. Last night she slept from 10 minutes into our 4 pm walk until after 10 when I got back from Rebs practice** (much frantic texting home in between, and sometimes during, numbers: has she fed? is she awake? still? have you checked she's breathing? you did? well ok then...). Despite my dire predictions that, well-fed and rested, she would then party all night, she fed hungrily while we watched the Tour and then slept until 6.30. And her older sister, who usually likes to drop in on us roughly halfway between one feed and the next, presumably in order to optimize Mummy and Daddy sleep deprivation, actually managed to spend the entire night in her own bed. Joy! Maggie hasn't made a habit of sleeping through the night yet, so at the moment even one unbroken night seems like boundless luxury. (That's the blogorrhoea secret to a happy life: low expectations.)
*Note to self: lose habit of leaving the toilet door open when you go so you can hear what they're up to, as you're starting to do it reflexively in other people's houses.
**Next gig on 1 August at the Irish Society: details here.
0 Comments: