Littlest things

Ghin has taken to brushing his own teeth.






In a jam...

It is May and as if, by order summer arrived. Leaves shimmer in their brightness and the iar is filled with pretty ephemeral things. Mayflies, cherry blossom petals, the light discarded husks of leaves, laughter. Everything is singing. Everything is growing. The pots of herbs and rose geranium have entered a state of frenzy and compete to put out the lushest, deepest green leaves. In the garden the fennel and soup celery are in some race to the cooking pot. Nettles offer themselves up for stew or furry stir fries. I am experimenting with ancient roman recipes. Barley cakes. Thin and sweet. So easy to make. I am experimenting with sprouts. In the sunlight they awaken from their dried cases and put out feet, heads, arms, caps. In three days they appear to wish to walk fron the window sill. That's when i catch them and put them into stir fries.

I have made gluten free granola. It's ok for a first attempt. My period, being due, i treated myself and the kids of the school to chocolate brownies. Chewy, gloopy, seratonin inducing affairs.

I have not run for almost three weeks now, but the cleaning of the house is entering a new and final phase. The bedroom and then the study. I shall begin on Thursday and just keep going. The final leg. It feels as if i'm running a five thousand metre race.

And i'm feeling so tired. I sleep odd hours now. When Ghin goes to bed in the evening and then wake and think about all the things i need to do at one. Then from one to two i toss and turn, trying to return to sleep. I then give up and then try and get the blogs done.

Ghin is learning new things. Throwing a temper tantrum. Drawing on walls. Pointing to the drinks cupboard when he wants something to drink. When he falls and hurts himself he goes to the chocolate counter to await his comforting square. He pretends to fix things. He now understands intructions like...Give that to me. Mummy wee wee. Ghin wait. Bobok. Mummum. He cried when he's left behind by Peter and Oisin. I'm one of the boys too, his little face frowns with the injustice of it all.

As the days pass, i know i must give up feeding him and it gets more and more difficult, even as it gets more and more ridiculous. I hug him hard and deep when he goes on me. I am also drinking deeply of these last moments of his infancy. It shall soon pass. And he, my baby, will be gone. He will be a little boy then.