The weekend stretches ahead, my two girls are up, my youngest is still asleep and all is calm.
No parkrun today – the buggy is damaged. No plans at all. B and I both wake at 6.30. Habits are hard to break. I enjoy a leisurely half hour with coffee and twitter. She stretches and sings along to the songs on the telly.
I check the weather, pick the clothes, and give thanks for the overnight rain glistening damply on the roof.
I get both of us showered and dressed.
Breakfast is made and I push B’s chair to the table. With tweetdeck and the telly for company we eat companionably together. One spoonful for her, one for me. She does most of the work, and just needs a tiny bit of support to get the spoon from bowl to mouth. It’s great to give her that control, but sometimes she makes a mistake. This morning she silently choked for a split second. No panic here when that happens. I know she can cough it out herself (perhaps with a little pat on the back). Three minutes later and she’s reaching for the spoon again.
Concentrating hard. It’s not easy to use a spoon when your hands are tiny and your arms are short and so so heavy…
Then a snippet of Britney singing floats across the room from the telly and B raises her head instantly. But it’s only an ad.
Back to the bowl again.
Finally it’s all gone. A quick drink – straw required – and a wipe round with her pink flannel and we’re done.
Time for a bit more music telly, and head dancing while I chat and catch up with eldest before she goes to the gym.
It’s been a tough week. I’m giving myself permission for a bit of downtime with extra coffee and my laptop.
But then I see what’s happening in the city today.
B might like that, I think.
And I’m back in logistics mode. Could we make it? Would she like it?
I’ll let you know later …