Tuesday 29th June
It feels like the baby cried all morning. Tired? Hot? Hungry? After her lunch I changed her nappy and lay on Big Sister’s double bed, in the front cabin, and breast fed the baby to sleep. She is clean, comfy, soft, perfect, chubby and sleeping in a clean pale pink body suit that stretches around her rounded form; legs bent up, expression so peaceful. Out of the bedroom window I see a boat slow down very close to ours, at an angle that suggests they’re going to double moor against us. This is usual at busy moorings, especially in London. If you are arriving it is polite to ask permission if the moored boat owner is at home, but it would be pretty bad form to refuse permission – unless you have a very good reason (for example, a coots nest in your fender.) So I leaned out the window to see a mature gentleman on a pristinely painted, attractively kept boat. A retired couple; brass polishers. He asks permission to moor alongside.
“Of course, yeah that’s cool” I say.
“But I’ve just this minute got the baby to sleep in the front of the boat, so if you could just, when you’re tying up... you know...”
You can’t really ask someone to moor up quietly, especially not in the middle of the day. Ropes and footsteps across a steel roof inevitably resound noisily inside the boat but,
“Some people talk loudly when they’re walking across the boat.... Or shout to each other...” I explain weakly.
If this couple had a baby it was a long time ago and now I just feel like a moody neighbour begrudgingly allowing them to tie up.
Parents can be as grumpy as hissing geese when being protective eh?!
The Doctor is now in between contracts and oscillating between dimensions, so he’s home for one month! I am still completely busy all day but no longer stressed. The Doctor shares the childcare and takes one or other of the girls on an outing and I am only doing one thing at a time – not three! Instant stress reduction! When both girls require attention at once they get one parent each, so there are less crescendos of crying. The boat is a sun-shiney clockwork of family bliss, with things ticking over, the baby gets cuddles, Big Sister gets toys and activities, dishes are washed, meals are cooked, parents pass in the corridor and smile at each other while going about their parenting business, the beautiful chaos waltzes around the boat like camels and rickshaws on a Jaipur roundabout, and the universe is unfolding as it should.
Wednesday, 25 August 2010
Monday, 23 August 2010
Some Dreams Come Alive
Baby Sister’s Naming Ceremony
“A baby will make love stronger, days shorter, nights longer, bankroll smaller, clothes shabbier, the past forgotten and the future worth living for.”
Author unknown (Please tell me if you know the author!)
“At my eldest daughter’s naming ceremony we had loads of people, a cake, a poem read by a professional actress friend and the whole thing filmed by my mate who’s a TV producer. I spent weeks planning it, but for Baby Sister we’ve picked a week where we happen to be in Angel and The Doctor’s parents are visiting from Gallifrey*. I chose the poems I’m going to read last night, on a laptop, while Baby Sister cried next to me, wouldn’t go to sleep, and eventually when I picked her up to sit out on the back deck with me, she did an explosive poo, that splurged out of the edges of her nappy, and all over my hands.
What I’m trying to say, baby, is that I’m sorry but having two tiny children makes me so busy that there wasn’t time to plan a beautiful party for you, but I want you to know that a lot of people love you and you are the best baby in the world, to us.
How did she get her name? We liked the name when our eldest was born, and it was on our short list then. This time, we knew that we were having a girl, and the other names we thought of were Ava, and Lola. It took us nearly a week to name her I think. For about three days she had no name. Then for one day we tried calling her Lola. We love the name but it didn’t feel right. The next day we called her Ava. We also loved the name but Ava means swift, or bird-like, and her birth was a very swift, quick labour, so we made Ava her middle name and gave her a wintery first name, because she was expected in December.
She came so quickly that she arrived before the ambulance men or midwives, and her birth story has become a bit of a legend on the towpath telegraph. She was born at home on a boat. Delivered by my husband, and it was a strange day for her big sister too, who was a little bit scared.
So, we just want to say, welcome to the world, and I’ve picked a couple of poems to read for you, and one that I wrote myself.
Follow your dreams baby,
You are one of mine
I dreamed of you once
Upon a long time
You were a thought
And you were my wish
And while you were sleeping
I wrote to you this:
Some dreams become people
And whatever you strive
For, if you follow your dreams
Some dreams come alive.”
I really enjoyed the weekend. The Doctor’s parents were here to visit. We had the naming ceremony party in a pub function room. It was really sunny weather, too hot for the children really, we had to find shady places to go.
The naming drinks was small and friendly. There were lovely poems and speeches, cold white wine and hot sun streaming in tall windows of a charming old pub. We filmed it a bit and I filmed Big Sister asking her if she has any messages for Baby Sister when she’s older?
“Yes.”
She came up close to the camera so that her mouth and lips filled the frame:
“I love you,” she said, and walked away. Do you want to say anything else?
“No,” she said.
The Doctor’s parents were babysitting while we went out for a date, the first one in months! It was a lovely Mediterranean restaurant; cosy lanterns, mussels starter, tuna steaks and red wine. Sloshing along the street afterwards I asked The Doctor for reassurance that he still likes us being married. I feel conscious that I’m more exhausted mum than attentive wife, mostly. The Doctor says, that’s ok, it’s just what we’re doing at the moment, but he does really want to be with me. I was drunkenly relieved and reassured.
We went to a bluesy pub for a drink, but before we had one sip my mother-in-law phoned with a baby screaming emergency. We left our drinks on the table, briskly walked the five minute walk home and could hear our baby crying as we approached the towpath gate in Colebrooke Row. The poor little one had awoken, and not so familiar with Gran and Granddad, was terribly frightened and wanted one or both parents. The Doctor and I both felt our hearts wrench as we craved to hold her and halt her distress. The Doctor reached her first and she stopped crying as soon as he held her small body. I clutched her soon after and held her tight to my chest and softly cradled the back of her velvet head in the palm of my hand. My baby, peaceful, needed me, and I needed her. She felt safe and was quiet. I breathed out and relaxed. All was right with the world. Date over. Reunited. Baby and I are one.
The Baby
She sucks in time like a crack in the universe
She absorbs our love like a sponge
Her tiny fingers curl around things
Grasping onto bits of this reality
As she takes shape and form
Softly curved, perfectly soft
Bent knees kick out like popcorn explosions in the saucepan of life
She giggles like sunlight on rippled canal water
As she drinks in the novelty of this strange new world.
*Gallifrey http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gallifrey
“A baby will make love stronger, days shorter, nights longer, bankroll smaller, clothes shabbier, the past forgotten and the future worth living for.”
Author unknown (Please tell me if you know the author!)
“At my eldest daughter’s naming ceremony we had loads of people, a cake, a poem read by a professional actress friend and the whole thing filmed by my mate who’s a TV producer. I spent weeks planning it, but for Baby Sister we’ve picked a week where we happen to be in Angel and The Doctor’s parents are visiting from Gallifrey*. I chose the poems I’m going to read last night, on a laptop, while Baby Sister cried next to me, wouldn’t go to sleep, and eventually when I picked her up to sit out on the back deck with me, she did an explosive poo, that splurged out of the edges of her nappy, and all over my hands.
What I’m trying to say, baby, is that I’m sorry but having two tiny children makes me so busy that there wasn’t time to plan a beautiful party for you, but I want you to know that a lot of people love you and you are the best baby in the world, to us.
How did she get her name? We liked the name when our eldest was born, and it was on our short list then. This time, we knew that we were having a girl, and the other names we thought of were Ava, and Lola. It took us nearly a week to name her I think. For about three days she had no name. Then for one day we tried calling her Lola. We love the name but it didn’t feel right. The next day we called her Ava. We also loved the name but Ava means swift, or bird-like, and her birth was a very swift, quick labour, so we made Ava her middle name and gave her a wintery first name, because she was expected in December.
She came so quickly that she arrived before the ambulance men or midwives, and her birth story has become a bit of a legend on the towpath telegraph. She was born at home on a boat. Delivered by my husband, and it was a strange day for her big sister too, who was a little bit scared.
So, we just want to say, welcome to the world, and I’ve picked a couple of poems to read for you, and one that I wrote myself.
Follow your dreams baby,
You are one of mine
I dreamed of you once
Upon a long time
You were a thought
And you were my wish
And while you were sleeping
I wrote to you this:
Some dreams become people
And whatever you strive
For, if you follow your dreams
Some dreams come alive.”
I really enjoyed the weekend. The Doctor’s parents were here to visit. We had the naming ceremony party in a pub function room. It was really sunny weather, too hot for the children really, we had to find shady places to go.
The naming drinks was small and friendly. There were lovely poems and speeches, cold white wine and hot sun streaming in tall windows of a charming old pub. We filmed it a bit and I filmed Big Sister asking her if she has any messages for Baby Sister when she’s older?
“Yes.”
She came up close to the camera so that her mouth and lips filled the frame:
“I love you,” she said, and walked away. Do you want to say anything else?
“No,” she said.
The Doctor’s parents were babysitting while we went out for a date, the first one in months! It was a lovely Mediterranean restaurant; cosy lanterns, mussels starter, tuna steaks and red wine. Sloshing along the street afterwards I asked The Doctor for reassurance that he still likes us being married. I feel conscious that I’m more exhausted mum than attentive wife, mostly. The Doctor says, that’s ok, it’s just what we’re doing at the moment, but he does really want to be with me. I was drunkenly relieved and reassured.
We went to a bluesy pub for a drink, but before we had one sip my mother-in-law phoned with a baby screaming emergency. We left our drinks on the table, briskly walked the five minute walk home and could hear our baby crying as we approached the towpath gate in Colebrooke Row. The poor little one had awoken, and not so familiar with Gran and Granddad, was terribly frightened and wanted one or both parents. The Doctor and I both felt our hearts wrench as we craved to hold her and halt her distress. The Doctor reached her first and she stopped crying as soon as he held her small body. I clutched her soon after and held her tight to my chest and softly cradled the back of her velvet head in the palm of my hand. My baby, peaceful, needed me, and I needed her. She felt safe and was quiet. I breathed out and relaxed. All was right with the world. Date over. Reunited. Baby and I are one.
The Baby
She sucks in time like a crack in the universe
She absorbs our love like a sponge
Her tiny fingers curl around things
Grasping onto bits of this reality
As she takes shape and form
Softly curved, perfectly soft
Bent knees kick out like popcorn explosions in the saucepan of life
She giggles like sunlight on rippled canal water
As she drinks in the novelty of this strange new world.
*Gallifrey http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gallifrey
“Actually Daddy, I want the moon now.”
Thursday 24th June
Every morning Big Sister comes into the living room and plays on our bed while The Doctor gets breakfast ready and I change Baby Sister’s nappy. Big Sister was listening to Hey Diddle Diddle on her PlayBus toy and she wants her cuddly cow shaped pencil case.
“The Cow Jumps Over The Moon!” I get the cow for her.
“Now actually Daddy, I want the moon.”
“I thought you were going to say that!” He smiles. He says he will get it for her.
Today I had two days worth of dishes to do, it took me ages, but I noticed myself singing as I did them. I was happy as I swept the floor! I was uninterrupted as I tidied up, put away the laundry, changed the water jug filter. Today I did one thing at a time. It made me much calmer.
Today The Doctor took the day off work and entertained the children while I caught up on housework. He looked after Baby Sister while I took Big Sister out for a walk; quality time together, dolly and pushchair up the towpath and back. Then while the baby had her big lunch time nap, The Doctor and Big Sister went swimming – I was completely alone for two hours (alone with a sleeping baby). The mental head space was so clear, sun shining, all doors and windows of the boat open, I’m listening to The Beatles all day. I noticed that today I enjoyed my life, and by this observation noted that I am apparently not enjoying a lot of the other days. Something must be done about this. Although it has something to do with sleep. I am waking twice a night at the moment, for either one girl or the other.
Big sister sometimes sings “We all live in a blue narrowboat,” to the tune of Yellow Submarine, and she thinks The Doctor has recently been to see “Prawn McCartney”. As soon as Baby sister is old enough I need to also go to a gig to see The Beatle, before he dies. I cannot live with The Doctor for the next few decades and hear about actually seeing those songs played live, seeing the man who wrote those great masterpieces. Although i don’t listen to them all that much if I had to pick my best and favourite band ever in the world, it would have to be The Beatles.
The Doctor is good at picking and playing and singing acoustic guitar. He is beautifully playing ‘So Tired’ and then ‘Blackbird’ acoustically into the night, while the baby sleeps in a hammock in the kitchen, and I gently type my life into a computer.
The Beatles (The White Album)
Every morning Big Sister comes into the living room and plays on our bed while The Doctor gets breakfast ready and I change Baby Sister’s nappy. Big Sister was listening to Hey Diddle Diddle on her PlayBus toy and she wants her cuddly cow shaped pencil case.
“The Cow Jumps Over The Moon!” I get the cow for her.
“Now actually Daddy, I want the moon.”
“I thought you were going to say that!” He smiles. He says he will get it for her.
Today I had two days worth of dishes to do, it took me ages, but I noticed myself singing as I did them. I was happy as I swept the floor! I was uninterrupted as I tidied up, put away the laundry, changed the water jug filter. Today I did one thing at a time. It made me much calmer.
Today The Doctor took the day off work and entertained the children while I caught up on housework. He looked after Baby Sister while I took Big Sister out for a walk; quality time together, dolly and pushchair up the towpath and back. Then while the baby had her big lunch time nap, The Doctor and Big Sister went swimming – I was completely alone for two hours (alone with a sleeping baby). The mental head space was so clear, sun shining, all doors and windows of the boat open, I’m listening to The Beatles all day. I noticed that today I enjoyed my life, and by this observation noted that I am apparently not enjoying a lot of the other days. Something must be done about this. Although it has something to do with sleep. I am waking twice a night at the moment, for either one girl or the other.
Big sister sometimes sings “We all live in a blue narrowboat,” to the tune of Yellow Submarine, and she thinks The Doctor has recently been to see “Prawn McCartney”. As soon as Baby sister is old enough I need to also go to a gig to see The Beatle, before he dies. I cannot live with The Doctor for the next few decades and hear about actually seeing those songs played live, seeing the man who wrote those great masterpieces. Although i don’t listen to them all that much if I had to pick my best and favourite band ever in the world, it would have to be The Beatles.
The Doctor is good at picking and playing and singing acoustic guitar. He is beautifully playing ‘So Tired’ and then ‘Blackbird’ acoustically into the night, while the baby sleeps in a hammock in the kitchen, and I gently type my life into a computer.
The Beatles (The White Album)
Doesn't Anyone Enjoy Their Children Anymore?!
Wednesday 23rd June
We visited our old childminder. In the lift on the way up to the seventeenth floor, Big Sister says,
“I am really incited to see her!” She misses the childminder. She showed her grazed knees from the fall in the park yesterday. The childminder misses her too. She looks after three children under twenty months at the moment, so none of them talk back to her. Big Sister loves re-discovering all of the childminder’s toys and sits politely at the table for a fruit and juice snack.
When I try to encourage my daughter to do a wee she assertively refuses:
“No!” holding the palm of her hand up to halt me. The childminder is surprised.
“I’ve never seen that side of her!” I see it a lot. I smile.
The childminder asks how I am enjoying having two children. I feel embarrassed that secretly my first response to this is, “enjoying?”
Surviving might describe it better.
But yes, I am enjoying them, I reply. I am very busy. I’m a twenty-four-seven stay-at-home-mum but I’m glad that it’s me taking care of them. These early years don’t last long.
“And it’s a really important time,” agrees the childminder.
Yesterday, on http://www.mumsnet.com/ I read a thread entitled, “Doesn’t Anyone Enjoy Their Children Anymore? I just seem to hear SAHMs moan about how stressed they are or that they can’t wait until bedtime/kids go to nursery/school.”
The gist of the replies was, “Don’t be so judgemental! We do all enjoy our kids, but it is hard work – and working mums just sometimes have to make ends meet, and look at the juggling act they manage!”
I asked the childminder how does she fit housework into her schedule? I am in awe of her managing so many kids at once. One way she does it is that she sets the washing machine to come on automatically at 5am so that when they get up, a load of washing is already done. I am envious of that convenience!
Angel, Islington moorings are amazing right now, it is a favourite anyway as it’s our winter mooring. It’s near to our GP, our childminder, friends and work. But this summer British Waterways have closed the towpath for maintenance, so we have our own private mooring. We have a BW key, and only boaters can come down here. So no constant stream of curious onlookers peering in the windows, no drunken teenagers or wannabe boaters asking, “Is it cold in winter?”
But the best thing, as a boat mum, is arriving home with the kids asleep I can park the double buggy safely on the towpath, knowing they will not be disturbed, as the only passerby would be an occasional boater neighbour. So they’re sleeping soundly and I can see them from my window and I don’t have to fear for their safety!
Meg phoned, having a bad time juggling work and kids. Everything is relentless. She is considering an extra day of kids in nursery so that she can have some breathing space, but feels guilty. I say, if they can afford it, and she wants it – do it! Everybody has different parenting styles and different work/family life balance and it’s whatever works for you. But don’t feel guilty. Because you have to do what makes you happy. Life’s too short to be unhappy. I arrange to visit her next week. And there are ups and downs and when I have a bad day I phone Meg, but today I’m having a good day.
This morning I just left the dishes, didn’t do any housework at all. I went out with the kids for most of the day. Big Sister had a brilliant time in the fountains at the park, she is really happy. The dishes are still there. I told Meg on the phone,
“I feel reckless, outrageous, wild!” She laughs and says,
“Yeah, leave those dishes!”
The Doctor said he doesn’t mind sometimes coming home and the dishes or laundry are not sorted, so long as the girls are happy. So maybe it’s just me, giving me a hard time.
The day ends with a sunny evening on the back deck, The Doctor and I are eating prawn curry and supping wine and talking and laughing. Afterwards we had cheese and more wine and I decide that Camembert is so good that I’m going to be faithful to it,
“Monogamous, monoga-cheese-mus, or something.”
The Doctor said,
“Fromaganous!” Being true to one cheese.
We visited our old childminder. In the lift on the way up to the seventeenth floor, Big Sister says,
“I am really incited to see her!” She misses the childminder. She showed her grazed knees from the fall in the park yesterday. The childminder misses her too. She looks after three children under twenty months at the moment, so none of them talk back to her. Big Sister loves re-discovering all of the childminder’s toys and sits politely at the table for a fruit and juice snack.
When I try to encourage my daughter to do a wee she assertively refuses:
“No!” holding the palm of her hand up to halt me. The childminder is surprised.
“I’ve never seen that side of her!” I see it a lot. I smile.
The childminder asks how I am enjoying having two children. I feel embarrassed that secretly my first response to this is, “enjoying?”
Surviving might describe it better.
But yes, I am enjoying them, I reply. I am very busy. I’m a twenty-four-seven stay-at-home-mum but I’m glad that it’s me taking care of them. These early years don’t last long.
“And it’s a really important time,” agrees the childminder.
Yesterday, on http://www.mumsnet.com/ I read a thread entitled, “Doesn’t Anyone Enjoy Their Children Anymore? I just seem to hear SAHMs moan about how stressed they are or that they can’t wait until bedtime/kids go to nursery/school.”
The gist of the replies was, “Don’t be so judgemental! We do all enjoy our kids, but it is hard work – and working mums just sometimes have to make ends meet, and look at the juggling act they manage!”
I asked the childminder how does she fit housework into her schedule? I am in awe of her managing so many kids at once. One way she does it is that she sets the washing machine to come on automatically at 5am so that when they get up, a load of washing is already done. I am envious of that convenience!
Angel, Islington moorings are amazing right now, it is a favourite anyway as it’s our winter mooring. It’s near to our GP, our childminder, friends and work. But this summer British Waterways have closed the towpath for maintenance, so we have our own private mooring. We have a BW key, and only boaters can come down here. So no constant stream of curious onlookers peering in the windows, no drunken teenagers or wannabe boaters asking, “Is it cold in winter?”
But the best thing, as a boat mum, is arriving home with the kids asleep I can park the double buggy safely on the towpath, knowing they will not be disturbed, as the only passerby would be an occasional boater neighbour. So they’re sleeping soundly and I can see them from my window and I don’t have to fear for their safety!
Meg phoned, having a bad time juggling work and kids. Everything is relentless. She is considering an extra day of kids in nursery so that she can have some breathing space, but feels guilty. I say, if they can afford it, and she wants it – do it! Everybody has different parenting styles and different work/family life balance and it’s whatever works for you. But don’t feel guilty. Because you have to do what makes you happy. Life’s too short to be unhappy. I arrange to visit her next week. And there are ups and downs and when I have a bad day I phone Meg, but today I’m having a good day.
This morning I just left the dishes, didn’t do any housework at all. I went out with the kids for most of the day. Big Sister had a brilliant time in the fountains at the park, she is really happy. The dishes are still there. I told Meg on the phone,
“I feel reckless, outrageous, wild!” She laughs and says,
“Yeah, leave those dishes!”
The Doctor said he doesn’t mind sometimes coming home and the dishes or laundry are not sorted, so long as the girls are happy. So maybe it’s just me, giving me a hard time.
The day ends with a sunny evening on the back deck, The Doctor and I are eating prawn curry and supping wine and talking and laughing. Afterwards we had cheese and more wine and I decide that Camembert is so good that I’m going to be faithful to it,
“Monogamous, monoga-cheese-mus, or something.”
The Doctor said,
“Fromaganous!” Being true to one cheese.
Shore Leave
Tuesday 22nd June
The Doctor took some time off work, took the kids and gave me an hour and a half to myself. It was completely amazing, I didn’t know what to do first. I have a huge conflicting mental list of useful stuff I’d like to get done, and nice relaxing things that I could do. I did an intense bit of shopping for useful things and then went to a pub for a chilled glass of Pinot Grigio. At The Camden Head, golden afternoon sun shines on the wooden, homely decor of a traditional English pub. It’s so weird not to be thinking of three people’s needs all at once. I notice my mind quieten down to a slower pace. It’s like getting off a carousel roundabout and still feeling giddy as if you’re going round; I need to find my ‘sea legs’!
The Doctor took some time off work, took the kids and gave me an hour and a half to myself. It was completely amazing, I didn’t know what to do first. I have a huge conflicting mental list of useful stuff I’d like to get done, and nice relaxing things that I could do. I did an intense bit of shopping for useful things and then went to a pub for a chilled glass of Pinot Grigio. At The Camden Head, golden afternoon sun shines on the wooden, homely decor of a traditional English pub. It’s so weird not to be thinking of three people’s needs all at once. I notice my mind quieten down to a slower pace. It’s like getting off a carousel roundabout and still feeling giddy as if you’re going round; I need to find my ‘sea legs’!
Universe Expanding
Monday 21st June
I put a note on the single mum’s boat with my phone number. She called me at lunch time and we went for coffee in the afternoon, with the babes and my big girl toddler. Her baby daughter is wearing shiny silver and black pirate shoes with the Jolly Rodger on the toes. Talking about being mothers and boaters. I told her that she is the hard core one for being a single mum living aboard. But she is impressed by my birth story she heard by towpath telegraph: Baby Sister’s two hour labour and then born on board, delivered by The Doctor (who is not that kind of doctor!) before the midwives or ambulances arrived.
“The word is, you were even going to go to the pub afterwards!”
We were! (And we would have got away with it too if those pesky midwives hadn’t called us into hospital for tests).
Single Boat Mum moves around with a couple of other boats,
“Like a little family!” I’d love to do that. She says that I can join them.
We shared and exchanged useful local information and thought we should make a website, Boat-Mums-Net which tells you your nearest launderette, playground, sandpit, baby friendly cafe, children’s centre etcetera. It would be for a very small niche market!
This idea eventually became my Boat Families Facebook group which now has over 700 members.
She debates how long she could or should live aboard with a child. I confess to her how hard I’m finding it all with two, and I say if she’s finding it hard I know a good book she can borrow.
“’What Mothers Do’*?” She guesses correctly. “I’m reading it right now, but I don’t find it all too hard darlin’. I am just so happy to have my baby.” She asks me,
“What is the hardest part, do you think?”
“Sleep deprivation.” I said. “Not getting enough sleep. Feeling tired all the time. So I suppose, that at least, would be the same in a house, and nothing to do with boating.”
Yesterday I had my legs waxed. Today my eldest daughter keeps smoothing down her legs.
“Look Mummy, feel how smooth: I’ve had my legs whacked!”
The weather is gorgeously hot, the girls look so cute in sun hats and sundresses. The towpath and park are bursting with wild meadow flowers. Big Sister plays with water and plastic ducks in a bucket on the back deck.
The Doctor has a scientific paper on parallel universes that is lying on the table because I intend to read it at some point, in my spare time! So, we keep talking about that idea and the nature of reality. Is the universe infinite or finite? The Doctor said, recently scientists have discovered that since the Big Bang the expansion of the universe is speeding up. I said that is consistent with all life forms on earth multiplying and expanding in any way they can. Somebody once said “life is the universe experiencing itself,” and on an individual level the biggest force in our lives right now is that we are completely focussed on our kids, our reproduction, our expansion, our repeating of the pattern. Experience, expand and grow, experience, expand my children. Matter is replicating itself.
A friend of The Doctor’s, The Pub Landlord, phoned today, to announce that his girlfriend has just discovered she’s about five months pregnant! The landlord and lady were both surprised: Expanding! Life is expanding.
*What Mothers Do (especially when it looks like nothing) – Naomi Stadlen.
What Mothers Do Especially When It Looks Like Nothing
I put a note on the single mum’s boat with my phone number. She called me at lunch time and we went for coffee in the afternoon, with the babes and my big girl toddler. Her baby daughter is wearing shiny silver and black pirate shoes with the Jolly Rodger on the toes. Talking about being mothers and boaters. I told her that she is the hard core one for being a single mum living aboard. But she is impressed by my birth story she heard by towpath telegraph: Baby Sister’s two hour labour and then born on board, delivered by The Doctor (who is not that kind of doctor!) before the midwives or ambulances arrived.
“The word is, you were even going to go to the pub afterwards!”
We were! (And we would have got away with it too if those pesky midwives hadn’t called us into hospital for tests).
Single Boat Mum moves around with a couple of other boats,
“Like a little family!” I’d love to do that. She says that I can join them.
We shared and exchanged useful local information and thought we should make a website, Boat-Mums-Net which tells you your nearest launderette, playground, sandpit, baby friendly cafe, children’s centre etcetera. It would be for a very small niche market!
This idea eventually became my Boat Families Facebook group which now has over 700 members.
She debates how long she could or should live aboard with a child. I confess to her how hard I’m finding it all with two, and I say if she’s finding it hard I know a good book she can borrow.
“’What Mothers Do’*?” She guesses correctly. “I’m reading it right now, but I don’t find it all too hard darlin’. I am just so happy to have my baby.” She asks me,
“What is the hardest part, do you think?”
“Sleep deprivation.” I said. “Not getting enough sleep. Feeling tired all the time. So I suppose, that at least, would be the same in a house, and nothing to do with boating.”
Yesterday I had my legs waxed. Today my eldest daughter keeps smoothing down her legs.
“Look Mummy, feel how smooth: I’ve had my legs whacked!”
The weather is gorgeously hot, the girls look so cute in sun hats and sundresses. The towpath and park are bursting with wild meadow flowers. Big Sister plays with water and plastic ducks in a bucket on the back deck.
The Doctor has a scientific paper on parallel universes that is lying on the table because I intend to read it at some point, in my spare time! So, we keep talking about that idea and the nature of reality. Is the universe infinite or finite? The Doctor said, recently scientists have discovered that since the Big Bang the expansion of the universe is speeding up. I said that is consistent with all life forms on earth multiplying and expanding in any way they can. Somebody once said “life is the universe experiencing itself,” and on an individual level the biggest force in our lives right now is that we are completely focussed on our kids, our reproduction, our expansion, our repeating of the pattern. Experience, expand and grow, experience, expand my children. Matter is replicating itself.
A friend of The Doctor’s, The Pub Landlord, phoned today, to announce that his girlfriend has just discovered she’s about five months pregnant! The landlord and lady were both surprised: Expanding! Life is expanding.
*What Mothers Do (especially when it looks like nothing) – Naomi Stadlen.
What Mothers Do Especially When It Looks Like Nothing
Wednesday, 18 August 2010
Fathers Day
Sunday 20th June.
The lovely baby seems to be sleeping through the night now. Poor Big sister woke up crying and calling “Mummy!” She doesn’t know why she is crying. I think maybe it is a bad dream, or maybe the people on the boat next door disturbed her. It’s 1.00 am and they are having a party. I explained this to my daughter. They are drunk and laughing and moored only a few feet from her bedroom. I “flip” her covers and settle her by talking about nice things: the park and the swings. As I settle myself back into bed the neighbours strike up a song, playing accordion and a drum! I can hear my daughter saying sadly to herself, in a little voice,
“I don’t like them having a party.”
I met a woman in the park with three children. All three run in different directions. She ran after the eighteen month old heading for the gate and the road. We chatted. She confirmed that three is really hectic, the third is not easier (like the Stay and Play Speech Therapist claimed). It’s just as hard! She chatted to The Doctor, fascinated by boating life while I ran off after my eldest.
Big Sister presented her handmade Fathers Day card of glitter and scribbles to Daddy. She can’t keep a secret and already told him three days ago,
“We made a surprise card for you Daddy!”
It’s still a manic day for us caring for the two of them, but I think I managed to give The Doctor some time alone to read and relax. I really wanted to take us all out for Sunday lunch in a pub for Fathers’ Day. The Doctor thought it wouldn’t be very relaxing, probably very hectic. But I take them out to cafe’s now and then, I told him, and it’s not that bad...
So we did. And it was hectic. Big Sister nearly spilling drinks, running off to sit at other tables, having a tired tantrum. It was Baby Sister’s first time in a high chair, she can’t quite sit up and keeps sliding down which makes her uncomfortable and miserable. I mash carrots and potatoes with my fork for her, cut bits and bobs for Big Sister on a plate. Spoon feed baby. Big Sister needs a wee. We abandon dinner and set off on an expedition. In the toilets she asks, are we still in the pub? The world is so confusing at that age! Return to my dinner, it’s cold now. The Doctor feeds the baby apple puree while I eat but we fail to control Big Sister who now says she wants to go home. I try to finish eating quickly, pack up all our stuff, (plastic spoons, beaker, bib) bundle everyone into the pushchair and laughed as I said to The Doctor,
“That was chaotic!”
It’s kind of funny when there’s someone there to help you: not nearly so stressful as being alone when it all goes pear shaped.
The Doctor is very ‘hands on’ thank goodness! Got home and he had to play boat Tetris while I got the girls ready for bed. We’re double moored on the outside of another boat and they want to go out to fill their water tank. They’ve also got a charging problem so they need a jump start off us. The Doctor helps, their engine starts and to get them out involves lots of people standing on the towpath with ropes while we slide the inside boat out to the outside, and we are pulled to the inside – now we’re moored on the rings on the towpath. This makes it easier to get the pushchair on and off. Also means we can get a nice view out the canal side of trees up a steep bank, and Georgian Islington terraced houses beyond.
The girls are so tired they went to sleep straight away tonight. We had some quiet time, The Doctor read a book on the sofa. I attempted to calculate all the information the tax credits people want out of me, while sat at the table in “the booth”. The boat was an oasis of calm. Summer evening sunshine on the water, wild overgrown plants and purple flowers tumbling on to the towpath outside the window. Other narrow boats occasionally pass by and our boat gently rocks in their wake.
The lovely baby seems to be sleeping through the night now. Poor Big sister woke up crying and calling “Mummy!” She doesn’t know why she is crying. I think maybe it is a bad dream, or maybe the people on the boat next door disturbed her. It’s 1.00 am and they are having a party. I explained this to my daughter. They are drunk and laughing and moored only a few feet from her bedroom. I “flip” her covers and settle her by talking about nice things: the park and the swings. As I settle myself back into bed the neighbours strike up a song, playing accordion and a drum! I can hear my daughter saying sadly to herself, in a little voice,
“I don’t like them having a party.”
I met a woman in the park with three children. All three run in different directions. She ran after the eighteen month old heading for the gate and the road. We chatted. She confirmed that three is really hectic, the third is not easier (like the Stay and Play Speech Therapist claimed). It’s just as hard! She chatted to The Doctor, fascinated by boating life while I ran off after my eldest.
Big Sister presented her handmade Fathers Day card of glitter and scribbles to Daddy. She can’t keep a secret and already told him three days ago,
“We made a surprise card for you Daddy!”
It’s still a manic day for us caring for the two of them, but I think I managed to give The Doctor some time alone to read and relax. I really wanted to take us all out for Sunday lunch in a pub for Fathers’ Day. The Doctor thought it wouldn’t be very relaxing, probably very hectic. But I take them out to cafe’s now and then, I told him, and it’s not that bad...
So we did. And it was hectic. Big Sister nearly spilling drinks, running off to sit at other tables, having a tired tantrum. It was Baby Sister’s first time in a high chair, she can’t quite sit up and keeps sliding down which makes her uncomfortable and miserable. I mash carrots and potatoes with my fork for her, cut bits and bobs for Big Sister on a plate. Spoon feed baby. Big Sister needs a wee. We abandon dinner and set off on an expedition. In the toilets she asks, are we still in the pub? The world is so confusing at that age! Return to my dinner, it’s cold now. The Doctor feeds the baby apple puree while I eat but we fail to control Big Sister who now says she wants to go home. I try to finish eating quickly, pack up all our stuff, (plastic spoons, beaker, bib) bundle everyone into the pushchair and laughed as I said to The Doctor,
“That was chaotic!”
It’s kind of funny when there’s someone there to help you: not nearly so stressful as being alone when it all goes pear shaped.
The Doctor is very ‘hands on’ thank goodness! Got home and he had to play boat Tetris while I got the girls ready for bed. We’re double moored on the outside of another boat and they want to go out to fill their water tank. They’ve also got a charging problem so they need a jump start off us. The Doctor helps, their engine starts and to get them out involves lots of people standing on the towpath with ropes while we slide the inside boat out to the outside, and we are pulled to the inside – now we’re moored on the rings on the towpath. This makes it easier to get the pushchair on and off. Also means we can get a nice view out the canal side of trees up a steep bank, and Georgian Islington terraced houses beyond.
The girls are so tired they went to sleep straight away tonight. We had some quiet time, The Doctor read a book on the sofa. I attempted to calculate all the information the tax credits people want out of me, while sat at the table in “the booth”. The boat was an oasis of calm. Summer evening sunshine on the water, wild overgrown plants and purple flowers tumbling on to the towpath outside the window. Other narrow boats occasionally pass by and our boat gently rocks in their wake.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)