The weather has been fantastic this week and earlier I was enjoying just sitting looking out of my study - the baby's bedroom - window at the view. You're so much more aware of the seasons living in the country: I can see that the trees are beginning to have new leaf buds on them.
I was feeling a bit despondent due to lack of money this week, but one of the things that made me feel better was being insulted by L., the wife of accompanist M. I was saying how despondent I'd felt about my performances at Carlisle Festival and she said that she thought I'd looked dreadful: and also that I had after all only just had a baby. Maybe I really was lacking in energy and that affected my performances - not that I think I would have done any better against the competition, but I might have felt that I had performed better if I had felt more energetic at the time. It also seemed like a long time away from the three children and Husband, and I felt guilty as well that I'd left Husband to deal with them for so long: especially as the Baby is so used to being with me rather than anyone else (I don't remember feeling quite so attached with the other two: maybe it's because this time I am so conscious that this is my last go at being a mother to a newborn baby, and I really appreciate it and feel so lucky that it happened).
I had a thought in relation to having children late the other day. I'd already considered that I grew up late - I was more like a screwed up teenager in my 20s and did what a lot of 20-somethings do in my 30s (being a holiday rep.; going clubbing; falling for unsuitable and non-committal men; developing my career) and so perhaps it was inevitable that it would be in my 40s that I'd do what many people do in their 30s - get married and settle down and produce offspring. But I then had another thought along similar lines. You go through your life trying out various personae: clubber; careerwoman; sportswoman; mother. The trouble with the last is that you can't just walk away from it if you don't like it: but then your overwhelming love for your miraculous children prevents you from doing so. Or at least, it does in most circumstances. And aren't they all just miracles? There are billions of people on this earth and yet each one is unique and a miracle. It's astounding, but I don't think you really appreciate it until you hold a newborn baby in your arms. Just before any child-free people feel insulted, I don't mean only parents appreciate the miracle: I mean that watching a baby blossom and develop into a toddler, a child and then an adult is quite amazing.
I've managed to write relatively little about the Baby in this post but I did want to note that I had him weighed yesterday, at nearly 14 weeks. He was 15lb 5oz and is nearly 75th centile now for weight! I also did a rough measurement of his length at home last night (I wanted to check that he wasn't just short and very fat) and he's also currently quite long. I then looked at Older Son's record and he was almost exactly the same weight and height at the same age: but is now definitely slim and one of the shortest in his class. So who knows how they'll turn out as adults!
Older Son wanted to sleep in bed with me the other night so I told him he could provided that he read to the Baby to get him to go to sleep. He read a book about sharks. It reminded me of the scene in Three Men and a Baby where one of the guys is reading an account of a baseball match to the baby girl, and says that it doesn't matter what you read, it's your tone of voice that counts. The Baby certainly seems just to love people talking to him, whatever rubbish it is: and will often burst into giggles about very little.
But I shall stop writing about my beautiful children and go off to bed. I get so cross with the older two at times: but I do so thank God or Nature or whatever for them. I wish I could learn not to get so wound-up: but I'm a mother - I have to have several things to be guilty about!
No comments:
Post a Comment