Monday 19th September 2011
9:55 am
It’s been a lovely morning so far: Jack slept right through and woke just after 7am. I breastfed him and had a long cuddle with my baby boy, kissing his pudgy arms, the soft fat pouches of his cheeks, the tender fold of skin at the back of his neck, relishing his throaty chuckle when I tickle him under his arms or on the soles of his feet. He makes my mouth water!
After that feast of baby flesh, Joel brought me tea, toast and a dog! Then I handed over lil’ J and set off to Noordhoek Common for a walk with Nala.
As I drove the morning unfolded in front of me, the Silvermine mountain range was dusted in winter green and the road ahead felt full of promise. On the common I relished the smack-squelch of my Wellingtons in yesterday’s rain puddles and breathed in the green wetness all around. It was good to feel my blood warming my morning-stiff joints and to feel my legs begin to find their rhythm as I strode along the wandering path past solemn oaks, cheerful daisy bushes, fluted lilies and eager grass.
On one winter bare tree a hooded hunting bird perched, scanning the grassland beneath with slitted eyes. I felt this was a good sign for my day.
All this gloriousness prompted a double haiku (made up of 5, 7,5 syllables):
Promise-filled morning
Damp scent, boots squelch, wet dog smiles
Winged hunter hooded
On winter bare tree
I pass beneath reverent
My heart winged and green
When I got home I fed Jack his breakfast: creamy rice cereal, prunes and pears. He opens his mouth like a baby bird in anticipation of the spoon heading his way. He bounces up and down in his pram if I’m not spooning fast enough. I’ve started mirroring him when he does this and he stops his bouncing and gives me a quizzical smile as if to say, ‘What are you doing?!’
Breakfast was followed by a bottle, which he gulped down. Then I carried him upstairs for his morning sleep, his eyelids already fluttering closed.
Now I sit outside for my regular Monday morning writing date with Liz, my writing partner. The scrawling of her pen punctuates the far away story of dogs barking. Nala lies nearby, her snout resting on the cold bricks.
I feel a warm rush of gratitude when I get moments like this.
Last week I found myself feeling overwhelmed by all the to-do lists of life, lists of things to do for my business, things to do around the house, lists of projects and activities that feed my soul, all lists which seem to keep growing longer.
So on Friday evening while Joel made our regular Friday night pizza, I chatted to him about this feeling. I realised that I was being over-ambitious in my plans for each day, as caring for Jack takes up most of my time and energy.
Joel reminded me that the job of mothering Jack is the most important one in the world. I said that while I fully believe that as a concept, it is hard to reconcile the daily drudgery of washing bottles, making formula, changing nappies, preparing food, with the lofty title of ‘Most important job in the world’.
Yet I know that each interaction with Jack – whether it’s playing with him, changing his nappy, putting a warm jersey on, spooning rice cereal into his baby-bird mouth – is like an investment account for the future. Each day, in choosing to be loving, nurturing, playful and caring with him, Joel and I are building a future human being.
So on Saturday morning, I kept reining in my ambitious mind and decided on one ‘project’ for the day, which was to take the me-time that Joel offered.
I left my two J men together and set off with a bottle of water and an apple to Silvermine Dam. I spent an hour strolling on the boardwalk that wends its wooden way around the dam, absorbing the spring sun on my face and listening to the shy plop of the occasional frog in the water.
Then I headed off to Fish Hoek beach, where I scoffed a fragrant pile of slap chips (South African for French fries) wrapped up in butcher paper and prickling my nostrils with the sharp tang of vinegar and salt. Being in solitude with myself was like quenching a thirst with cool sweet water.
On Sunday once again I reined in my grandiose ideas and chose to do two things among the long list of should, wants and needs. I had a long hot bath with tea and a book then later in the afternoon, while Jack slept, I made apple tea cakes.
At the end of the weekend, I felt full and capable rather than frustrated and ineffectual.
