Autumn 2017

It’s September, late September. 

My fog-shrouded brain needs to remember that. I would like it to hurry up and not be September anymore because this month has been rough, but writing a list of 7s in the month column on K’s childcare schedule isn’t the solution to that. 

And whether you judge the seasons by the calendar, the equinox, or if you too are an optimistic UNIQLO retailer that realized everyone was sick of summer by early August and started stocking accordingly, it’s definitely autumn now. The days are getting steadily shorter, the light is turning more golden, there are autumn fruits and vegetables filling menus and supermarket shelves and the leaves are changing colour. There’s Halloween stuff everywhere and even though the temperature are still high, a wrap is becoming a good idea in the early morning and evenings. It’s very definitely autumn. 

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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.