Rough night. Poor B had trapped wind or something & couldn’t get herself settled at all. The result? No sleep for her, and no sleep for me, really. There were occasional dozing moments, but they were often interrupted by a squirm, a grunt, a little squeal indicating tummy discomfort. Poor Baby. And Poor Me, dammit!
Anyway, it’s Saturday. There’s something really lovely about being a family on a Saturday – having a big gathering, the smell of cooking filling the home, B asleep in her crib (ish), and feeling like there’s a world to be created that is truly what you want it to be.. Fear! That for all of my fire & brimstone judgement about the world, I’ll ending up cocking up my own family so badly that my pure hearted baby will imbibe negativity and skewed values that will make her sad. I’m terrified that she’ll become me, basically. But, she won’t. She’s surrounded by many well adjusted, well meaning people who can offer her a breadth of experience that will combat my own skewed outlook.
I don’t feel like I have much to say today. As I wrote up my notes from last Sunday, I questioned the sheer self indulgence of this exercise. I want to focus on the baby, but somehow, it becomes me, me me. Am I really that selfish? I suppose I am.
The notion of success haunts me this morning. I know it’s superficial, but I can’t let go of a deep feeling of failure which I know to be completely misplaced because the word itself means nothing in the context that I’m thinking of it inside, but still….
Listening to Radio 2 for a change feels quite good. Hearing music I haven’t heard for a while is good. I quite like some of what I’m hearing, though it’s all a bit samey. I’m amazed, but not surprised, by how many female musicians want to be Amy Winehouse. She was pretty incredible so it makes sense, but her charm was that she was so completely unique. Why don’t people get that?
Ah. The baby is awake. Time to get on!