It is FOUR THIRTY in the morning. You read correctly. A somewhat abysmal hour, but perfect for the first breakfast of the day which I just consumed. Weet-Bix with hot soy milk from the new microwave of wonder. A kitchen tool perfectly suited to bleary eyed cook-ups. I never knew what I was missing out on – all those microwaveless years…
So. I am not dead. In fact, none of us here in Trailerland appear to be dead. The fact that I have to state this, and the fact that I had to call my mother yesterday and reassure her that we all continue to pulse explains the absence of updates here on [miaow]. The baby – Small Z – the one that we spent the first month thinking was pretty chilled? Ah ha. GOT YOU! She was just pretending. Just getting on track with breathing oxygen, before bringing forth the full extent of her personality to shine with piercing intensity – particularly around nine or ten at night. People tell me this is called ‘arsenic hour’, and I feel that this is an appropriate description.
Thankfully, I have M here the whole time (as we leave the catamaran languishing and our time-off-getting-to-know-Z budget whittles away to a tiny drip) and we manage to wrangle each other blocks of extra sleep. Today we took off to Merricks General Store – we were supposed to go last Wednesday to celebrate Small Z turning One Month – but were thwarted by the arrival of a lactation consultant – who went on to give us information that saved our sanity, so we didn’t begrudge her too much.
The trip to Merricks was the first time we have been back there since my birthday last May – the day we were somewhat poleaxed to discover that I was a vessel for a tiny tiny alien and must therefore cease drinking white wine. Today I had half a glass and some asparagus soup, while Small Z went in a pram for the first time and M had potato and bacon soup followed by chocolate cake and declared that all was right with the world.