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On Monday I had the most efficient day in months. I got to do in two hours what I didn’t do the entire last week. It was the first day this year and perhaps the second since I got pregnant again when I thought that hmm, perhaps I could really do this thing with raising and taking care of George and another baby. I do blame the hormones for feeling so incompetent. I used to be able to move mountains, fercrissake!

Then George came home from the crèche with a sore red throat and the doctor said we needed to postpone the vaccine again and wait and see how it evolved. I thought it was going better, and was so anxiously looking forward to returning of the sleeping through the night thing. Which is now so last week. Only now I see he has some red spots on his tummy. He does get a very mild irritation from the water, which is very hard in the area. But it was never like this. I fancy hiring an inhouse ped whose name is not google to answer all my questions. Since this must wait, so must I, until tomorrow, to see how the spots are and decide if we’re going back to the doctor’s office after all.

Talking about the crèche, I’ve realised that sadly I have nothing whatsoever in common with the other parents. Especially the other mothers. Na-da! I was once told that I lived in an ivory tower, only because I did not like to mingle and avoided unnecessary social contact at work (I used to work, not spent my time wasting it with inane chit chat). Now I think that in fact I only connect with a very few people. And thank God I do not need company, am very happy by myself for lenghty periods of time, otherwise I would have been erm… the polite version of ‘fucked up’ which eludes me right now (I try to clean up my language, obviously I need to try harder).

So yeah, the other mummies, nothing clicked. Oh, I forget, it clicked, but not in the right way. I went to pick up George’s sippy cup, and a mother told me that her daughter was thirsty and tried to drink from it and that she hoped that no illnes would be passed between them. We tried to be friendly the day before, since we discovered we are co-nationals. Well, lady, you should have watched and talked to your daughter and not let her use any sippy cup but hers, if you are so afraid of her getting “ill”. And by the way, this is what they do when they are together, build immunity by passing on bugs and viruses to each other, and incidentally, if you were thinking I would be knocking down your door looking for companionship and a playdate for my son, you can relax and delete this from your worry list. Ain’t never gonna happen.

And what irks me is that ever since George started going there, he had all sorts of colds and high fever and sore throat and the lot, which did not happen before. But it is what it is, right, and this is how they build immunity and social skills. But to say that her daughter could get sick because of George… Pretty much as useful as pointing fingers at a clouded sky, blaming for the rain one cloud or the other in a shapeless dark mass.

Another thing that annoys me is seeing the plural of nouns written with apostrophe. As in dog’s are barking or a lot of idiot’s can procreate. Since when did the apostrophe-and-S start being used as more than a genitive mark for singular? Definately after I left school, I would say. Which was, you know, last millenium. Lot’s of thing’s changed since then, huh?

I had a check on Numéro Bis today. It could be a boy, or it could also be a girl, I still don’t know, since cooperation is something my babies are apparently not familiar with. But everything is as it should be, the baby grew a lot, measured one week ahead, and waved and kicked for the camera. I think I can feel some movement, but then I always doubt it and can’t say for sure. So it was great seeing a waving and kicking baby today.

All week I had some very good post bits, which I thought I would remember and share with you. But I don’t. Which means that probably they were not all that good in the first place, or my memory is a tenth of what it used to be. Or perhaps it is linked to my hair colour, which is fading every day, leaving behind (fortunely still on my head) a lot of gray hairs. A LOT. A frightening lot. And yet, I still can’t take a decision considering dying my hair again. Because that would mean maintenance, which I am unable to commit to. Gah!

I hope St. Elsewhere is doing well and that she has good news to share soon.

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