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I wish I was blogging more at the moment. I wish that constantly, and fervently. I wish I had just a couple more hours in the evening so I could do things like eat AND start to get back to work AND answer emails and write things people have asked for AND write on this, my muchly beloved blog.

I wish that I was better at netball. Or running. Actually, probably just running, I’ve never had an interest in netball, I don’t even know why I said that.

I wish we’d managed to send out the thank you cards to all our friends and family before the 200 photos we got printed to put in them were 3 months out of date.

I wish I could find the time and perfect words to tell you – right now, while it’s happening – how amazing and tiring and frustrating and wonderful and terrifying having a small person to look after is, but those of you who have one already know and those who don’t probably don’t care. Which is all fine.

I wish unicorns had heatproof horns so you could use them as emergency kebab skewers.

I wish I had responded to all the emails that I have on my ‘REPLY TO THESE LOVELY PEOPLE WHO WERe NICE ENOUGH to EMAIL YOU’ list. If you are on that list, I cannot apologise enough.
Because apparently, in order to apologise enough, I would have to email you.
Which I am not organised enough to do.
I will though, honest. I might leave the ‘apologising enough’ bit out though, because that would probably take up more time than just writing the email if I did it.

I wish I’d made that last paragraph shorter.

I wish I’d bought that other chair before someone else did and I ended up with this one, although this one is also nice so on reflection I retract that.

I wish I wasn’t so tired and hungry all the time. More hungry. More tired. More tired. More Hungry. I wish I could be neither, just for a couple of days. that would be very exciting.

I wish world peace, happiness and justice for all etc.

I wish I’d got to see that film the other week, but it was only on for one night, and there wasn’t any way I could get there.

I wish. Hm. I wish it would stop bloody raining and do something a bit more summery.

I wish… oh lots of things.
I wish there weren’t two other things I told myself I had to write before bedtime tonight so I could write more soon. More copiously. More often. More Right Now.

I wish I wish I wish.

  1. I feel I should warn you that It Gets Worse. You get even less time. They need to be amused more and can be left alone less and less and less.

    I wish someone had warned me.

    J is nearly a year and I have no time to myself, ever.

    But I’ve heard it gets better. Sometime later. They will one day be able to look after themselves.

    I wish I had a unicorn. To use as anything, really.

    Comment by B — 17 May, 2012 3:24 pm

  2. B, you are scaring me!

    Anna, I feel exactly the same way and all I have to look after is a husband and a (rather dysfunctional) self. I shudder to think how exponentially the disorganisation in my life would increase if I had a small person to look after as well.

    Comment by misspiggy — 17 May, 2012 4:18 pm

  3. give yourself a break. no, not a weekend break, full of good food, and wandering round a decayed Eastern European city… the OTHER kind of break, where you forgive all of your circumstances and the mess and the not getting to see films (i saw slumdog for the first time LAST WEEK) and the lack of time and the lack of writing (take notes, write it up one day) and the shit weather and just BE with doozer… in 10 yrs time you’ll struggle to remember cuddling him as that adorable baby. This first year of his life will race past you, and your next problem will be the heartbreaking choice of which babygros to keep forever and which to give away. It goes in an instant.
    might go have a little cry now…. remembering my adorable first baby…having been shouted at by her, now 12 yrs old, this morning before school.

    Comment by lucy the p — 18 May, 2012 12:28 am

  4. Agree with Lucy – give yourself a break (though also, write more, because it’s good when you do!)

    It does get better, they get less dependent on you specifically & you can give them to other people more easily(!) And then, of course, you’ll weep for these days. xo

    Comment by Fiona — 18 May, 2012 12:45 am

  5. (I should have put a winking face after that ‘write more’ bit… JOKE!)

    Comment by Fiona — 18 May, 2012 12:46 am

  6. Before you’ve even had time to turn round there are grandbabies and they are even more fun!

    Comment by gilly — 18 May, 2012 1:51 am

  7. Holy crap, gilly, he’s only four months old!!!


    Comment by anna — 18 May, 2012 1:57 am

  8. Oh goodness! Hang tight and breathe! You are doing an incredible job with that lovely little son of yours. We will all wait patiently, don’t worry. Just bbbrrreeeeaaaatttthhheeee. ((HUGS))

    Comment by VIvian — 19 May, 2012 12:04 pm

  9. As my mother says, before you know it, the children are all grown-up and gone. She’s wrong about the ‘gone’ part, haha.

    Comment by guyana gyal — 20 May, 2012 9:15 am

  10. It’s a while ago now but I seem to remember the girls who were good at netball were all bitches, so I shouldn’t worry about that wish if were you. But maybe that was just at my school. Maybe netballers are lovely everywhere else. Also yes, I hear it gets better.

    Comment by Nose in a book — 20 May, 2012 2:15 pm

  11. but you’re happy, right? :)

    Comment by Z — 21 May, 2012 1:35 pm

  12. So happy. I don’t think I have ever been happier.

    Doesn’t stop me being frustrated about all the things I want to do at once. :)

    Comment by anna — 21 May, 2012 1:39 pm

  13. I thought unicorns DID have heatproof horns….

    (looks round anxiously for someone from Scottish Society for the prevention of Cruelty to Mythical Beasts while hiding half-eaten kebab)

    Actually, the best creature to use as an emergency kebab holder is a big agressive sea-bird called a Kebab Skua.

    Comment by Rob — 22 May, 2012 1:43 pm

  14. “I wish I wasn’t so tired and hungry all the time. More hungry. More tired. More tired. More Hungry. I wish I could be neither, just for a couple of days. that would be very exciting.”

    You will find yourself, amazingly soon, in a place where you are no longer both tired and hungry all the time.* But frustratingly, the lack of discomfort is hard to appreciate for any longer than it takes to forget the intensity of the discomfort (which is no time at all with a memory like mine). Recently I did my back in and was in pain all day every day. I longed for a time when that was no longer true, but now I can’t remember what the pain was like or believe it could really have been that big a deal.

    *Of course, I can’t guarantee they won’t have been replaced by other discomforts…

    Re the chair. Did you buy yourself a rocking chair? Even maybe a glider-rocker? Ooh, I do hope so. I am sitting in mine right now. My first-born hit ten years last weekend. Ten years! For ten years I have been a parent! And for more than ten years (for I bought it whilst pregnant) I have had this chair, and appreciated every minute of it.

    Comment by Beleaguered Squirrel — 27 May, 2012 3:05 pm

  15. PS Re B’s comment about them becoming more work. Yes sort of, but that period also is very short. My youngest is now 3, which is still very small, but also ever-so much easier.

    Comment by Beleaguered Squirrel — 27 May, 2012 3:07 pm

  16. Having said that…

    My 3-yr-old has an armchair next to his bed and sleeps with the door open, so it is easy for me to tiptoe in of an evening, sit next to the bed and watch him sleep for a bit on my way to bed. I did this last night and just for a moment he reminded me of a much smaller boy – say a 1-yr-old. And I had a little pang at the thought that I will never again be mother of a 1-yr-old. Both my boys are of course lovely, but the littlest will be 4 soon and neither of them are babies any more, and… just… ah well. Time marches on. And that’s a good thing really.


    Comment by Beleaguered Squirrel — 11 June, 2012 8:31 am

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