Another weekend, but there seems little to differentiate the days. Naoise still sleeping but then he didn’t actually fall to sleep until 11pm, far, far, far too late, I know.
Two baby robins in the back yard this morning. I have become proficient at breaking up exactly the right size of oat cake crumb needed for them to pick up in their beaks and swallow. I am loving being their human surrogate mother. I am glad they are still here, as Syd is back tomorrow and I would like him to meet them. Its strange that they arrived just as he parted. They are no substitute for my eldest son but have been a comfort whilst he has been away.
SIXTEEN DAYS. Syd has been gone for sixteen days. The house will be a noisier place when he returns. There will be romping and squabbles and singing and loud guitar music. There will be teenage passion and angst and conversation. There will be competition for my affections from two children. There will be an emotional mountain to climb over, as whenever he returns from his fathers he is understandably sad to part company. He will be tired and after he has recovered there will be things that he wants and things that he wants to do. There will be the annual trip to buy school shoes and bags and pencil cases which always costs a fortune. I will have to try and grow a money tree to purchase the back to school items.
Just as the summer felt so long now it feels short. It is fading. It is wet and cold and feels like autumn is already taking hold. I look out of the window at the scaffold tower that has been erected at the end of a terrace up on the hill. I see a man climbing it.
My friend is staying for a few days, he drives a dark blue sports car that he parks out front. Its nice to have an older person around. Its good to have different company. Naoise is still asleep. I read this morning that Lauren Lavern now presents a late night woman hour, I must listen, it sounds good, it sounds better than the polite day time version.
This afternoon I take Naoise to a party, we made the card yesterday so just the present to wrap. I will be glad of some company whilst Patrick does some freelance work. Each day of perpetual childcare blends into the next. I am no twenty first century woman, juggling paid work with domestic work and childcare. I will be, one day this will change and then there will be the challenges of this “other” life.
I hear feet on the stairs. Must stop writing now.