Typing with a wriggly baby on my lap this afternoon. It’s a lovely sunny day, but Ceej and I have been suffering from a cold this week, and we’re taking it easy. Besides, we were out socialising yesterday and she’s still a bit tired. The socialising was an odd experience. I have vowed never to become one of those mothers who talks about nothing but their precious child, but I discovered yesterday that it’s what people expect. You try to change the subject and the person you’re speaking to steers you gently but firmly back into Babyland. With the new people we met, it was difficult to say: “yes she’s gorgeous and very clever, isn’t she? But you know, I spent some 37.5 years as an autonomous human being before being inducted into The Motherhood, and I am capable of talking about other things, like the invasion of Iraq for example…”. Instead I heard a lot of very charming baby stories, listened to people talking slowly and carefully to me about their lives, and tried unsuccessfully to crack a few jokes. In the meantime, Ceej was doing the rounds of the middle-aged ladies, who managed to both coo and cast significant glares over at their as-yet-unmothering daughters. I had wanted to meet another recent mother, but apparently she seems to have taken to The Motherhood more successfully than me, and was off mothering some underprivileged children or something like that.
We also went out in The Car for the first time. Slightly nerve-wracking, but Mr P did very well, and managed not to kill anybody. He’s driving to a band rehearsal today – oh boy, another afternoon left alone with a baby. What a fun-packed life I lead.
Oh boy, she’s on a major grizzle now because I put her in her special chair. Better sort her out.