Big baby, very small boy

 

 

Some of the supermarkets here leave out kid-sized baskets for the children to use. This is very evil of them.

My son is nearly 20 months old now and recently, I’ve started having startled moments where I look at him and no longer see a big baby but a very little boy. It’s not a huge change and he doesn’t metamorphose into something else overnight.

 

And yet he does too. All the time. Little changes and then they’re big changes after all and time goes so quickly really.

Mother’s Day 2017

Yesterday, I successfully navigated my second Mother’s Day. My own mother is lovely and R, despite not even noticing the occasion until a morning radio segment brought it to his attention, came through in the end and picked up some flowers and chocolates for me on Mr K’s behalf. 


I’m always a bit baffled by people who get pissy about these as a present choice. No, it doesn’t require much thought or effort. But flowers and chocolates are two of my favourite things!

I feel like I’m reading a lot more analysis of the whole Mother’s Day phenomenon this year, in defense of it and criticizing it. I suppose that’s unsurprising, given society tells us that mothering is the bestest, most important job in the whole world while simultaneously devaluing it at every turn. I wonder the whole working/stay at home thing is such a mindfuck. 

A lot of it has been frustrating to read, on both sides. I wish we could all just accept that parenthood is a big deal but not the only, all-defining deal. That mothers are people, no more and my God, no less. That working rights and sensible hours would be good for everyone, parents or not. That Mother’s Day is hard for some people and the reasons for that might vary greatly and be intensely private. That most of us know that it’s an overcommercialised load of bullshit, deviating far from its humble origins and that an epilator or – I’m looking at you, department stores of Japan – an apron are not the greatest gift ideas. 

I know.

But I’ve had only a handful of good nights of sleep in the last two years, wiped up a lot of body fluids and juggled a whole brunch of things that become a lot harder when you constantly have to work out what to do with a very small, dependent person in the mix. I just want to enjoy my cheap flowers and nice chocolates.

Cherry Blossoms 2017

I wrote this last year, thinking about the transience of everything in the face of my uncle’s death a year earlier. Five days after I posted it, my father suddenly passed away.

I thought I would hate the cherry blossoms after that, but I find that I don’t. I have so much sadness this week but I want to take these little flowers for just what they are – flowers, a beautiful, brief display of them, and a sign that spring has finally arrived. I’ll reserve my sadness for this Friday.

Lyssays (a name change for spring)

Mr. K. investigates some moss

Spring is slowly arriving. I actually saw a couple of cherry blossoms finally starting to flower at the park yesterday and there are days, at least, where the weather warms up. We’re getting there.

If spring is creeping in, maybe it’s time to start creeping back into blogging too. I’ve made a couple of changes here, the most notable being the name of my blog and username. I’ve gone from “Wisps and Whatnot” to “Lyssays”. It’s basically a play on words. I’ve used Lyssa, in various ways, as one of my online names for years and I will continue to do so as my user name here! The rest comes from my long-held dream of writing intelligible enough posts that they might be called essays, plus the fact that “Lyssays” looks a bit like Lyssa Says. See, I’m very pleased with my wittiness on this one.

It’s been a very long winter. We kept getting sick, often all at once. I’ll definitely be getting my flu shot next winter just to try and avoid that nightmare again. When I wasn’t getting sick, I was swamped with work. That’s a situation that’s bound to arise again, but I’ll try to work getting more blog posts up anyway? I get all these ideas in my headĀ for them, after all. It’s just the finding of time and space to spit them out! Wish me luck with that!