Friday, 16th of May, 2008
This week has been all about sleepless nights; some of it is our fault and some of it is A’s. Last night, after several nights of interrupted and incomplete sleep, I collapsed into bed by 8:30. No, that’s not a typo. 8:30. Just so very tired.
Tuesday night saw an important game for all Bristol City fans: their second leg match against Crystal Palace in the Championship play-offs. The game went into extra time and City’s win meant a lot of late-night talk and excitement about the possibility of going up into the Premier League . By the time we got into bed, it was well past midnight and when A woke up at 4 am on Wednesday morning, we were too exhausted to protest. Though N did try various tricks to get A sleeping again without any success.
When he woke up at quarter to four on Thursday “morning”, we were less than impressed. This early start followed a 2 hour “Please, please pick me up” session around 1am which involved screaming, hair-pulling and kicking. And that was just A.
2:15 found me saying “I will not be blackmailed by a 9 month-old!” after N suggested I pick him up (A, not N) and rock him to sleep in my arms. Instead of picking him up, I sat next to A’s cot and stroked his head which calmed him down and then, eventually sent him off to sleep.
So, understandably we were not terribly energetic on Thursday morning. I went off on a trip with a year 9 class in the afternoon and had to control 18 unruly, hormonal, squealy 14 year-olds on the bus and in the museum during what must be the most boring museum trip ever. Our guide, bless her cotton socks, spoke heavily-accented English, refused help with translation (offered by several nice students), spoke to the students as if they were a.) Polish and cared b.) adults c.) students of Polish history at a nearby university. I love that museum and I love history but even I was bored.
By the time we returned to school, after a trip on a hot, hot bus , I was ready to lie down and sleep on the sofa in the staffroom.
With the beautiful weather outside and A napping, I’m looking forward to my day at home. We’ll go to the park, buy some plants for the balcony and maybe visit the International Book Fair at the Palace of Culture. This and the fact that A woke today at nearly 6am is enough to make this day fabulous.
Tuesday, 13th of May, 2008
The Booker of the Bookers prize is to be announced on 10th of July at the Literacy Festival in London. The favourite so far? My recent read: Salman Rushdie’s Midnight’s Children. As I struggled to finish it, it was hard to believe that this book had already won The Booker of the Bookers for the prize’s 25th anniversary celebrations in 1993. Should it win again? Is this really the best book to be awarded the Booker prize ever? I’m not so sure.
The other books nominated are: Pat Barker’s The Ghost Road (read and much loved), Peter Carey’s Oscar and Lucinda (unread, but on its way to me through BookMooch), J.M. Coetzee’s Disgrace (read and liked), J.G. Farrell’s The Siege of Krishnapur (unread) and Nadine Gordimer’s The Conservationist (unread).
Having read half of the shortlist, I’m not in a position to comment but I really hope it’s not Midnight’s Children that wins it. It was a good book, but I’d prefer the Pat Barker or J. M. Coetzee book. You can vote and have your say via text messages (info on that here) or via the Man Booker website.
Monday, 12th of May, 2008
…to this?
A has taken to acrobatics in his cot. We put him down, on his back, and then leave the room (if we stay, he gets very happy and excited and hopes to be picked up, regardless of how sleepy he actually is). When we come back to check on him, most of the time he’s on his belly, on his side, on his belly lying sideways across the cot, on his back lying sideways across the cot, on his belly or back rotated 180 degrees from where we last left him. He takes after me in this. I still prefer to sleep on my stomach and I was a rather active sleeper as a child.
The issue is that he no longer fits comfortably across the cot so sometimes his legs stick out through the bars and at other times, he has to get all scrunched up. I remember when he would fit comfortably across the cot and along one of the sofa seats. When did this child grow to be so long and what was I doing at that time?
Sunday, 11th of May, 2008
So my first week back at work went about as smoothly as I could have hoped for. It was great to go to work and see my colleagues, catch up on the news and happenings, figure out what’s going on and have conversations! With people! Who can talk! It was nice to have lunch with others and sneak away for a coffee with a colleague from my department during one of the days.
So far, it’s not been too busy, but I’ve been working away on the new syllabus for one of the courses. I might not teach this course next year, but I will teach it one day so I thought I’d get started and have been spending time in front of the computer researching, putting together notes, worksheets, diagrams, etc. It’s just a dent in the whole thing so far, but at least it’s something. As the work picks up and there are more things for me to do during the day, it’ll be more difficult to work on the new syllabus.
A has adjusted very well, so far. And I hope it continues. The only minor issue has been a cold that he’s picked up from somewhere. It was a tough weekend last weekend with high fever, lots of screaming and a generally cranky child. The teething seems to be intensifying, as well, so N and I were dipping into our patience reserves to try and stay calm. His fever went down by Sunday, but he’s still got a cough and a runny nose. We’re giving him come cough syrups, but trying to get him to swallow them is a task and a half. It involves both of us: one holding onto limbs and the other trying to spoon the mixture into his mouth when he’s least expecting it. Still, at least half of it ends up on his bib. It’s so very glamorous, this.
My only complaint this week has been a reduction in my reading time. Normally, I would read during A’s afternoon nap, but as my students don’t nap that’s not happening anymore. It doesn’t help when my current book reads as slow as molasses flows on a cold day. Don’t get me wrong, it’s a good book, but there’s so much of it and the style is tricky, so I have to keep rereading passages. And my reading time has gone back to the 20 minutes or so before sleep. I have a feeling that Midnight’s Children might actually be inducing sleep to some extent. It’s a bit of a catch-22, but I’m about 40 pages from the end, so it should be finished tonight. I hope!
Tuesday, 6th of May, 2008
- coming home from work to a smiling, happy boy who giggles when he sees you
- spending nearly 2 hours with your son before he totally conks out during the post-bath, post-feed story time
- ordering Thai food from a good restaurant and having it delivered to your home
- catching up on your blogs and your Scrabulous games in the evening while your husband does the washing up and finishes cooking A’s food for tomorrow
- looking forward to an evening in with your husband and another great day at work tomorrow
Monday, 5th of May, 2008
You know those tv shows in which the hero(es) have 2 minutes to disable a bomb, but that 2 minutes is stretched into at least 10 minutes of the actual show? So you’re sitting there, at the edge of the sofa for far longer than the timer on the bomb.
This past week has been sort of like that, but opposite. Instead of the time stretching it has shrunk and I find myself staring at the end of my maternity/child-rearing leave a bit amazed that it’s come up so quickly. Back in September, April seemed like a lifetime away and there was so much time left to do all the things I wanted to do. But then Mother Nature said “Hahahaha! You’ve got a child now and he’ll fill up your days” and she was right.
So, after a long weekend, the briefest visit from Anne and A catching a horrible coldy-fluey-thing, I head back to work tomorrow with a bit of a cold myself.
I’m excited and nervous at the same time. I hope A’s fine all day tomorrow. I hope Pani J can handle everything well. I hope they remember me…
Friday, 2nd of May, 2008
You can’t tell a 102 year-old woman that life’s short. For her, life is long, too long and when you call her on her 102nd Birthday, she is annoyed. It’s not life, she says, anymore. I can’t do anything anymore. I think God may have forgotten me.
So, you quickly change subjects because how can you say anything sensible after that? Instead, you shift to the great great grandson of this lovely lady with a strong personality and a generous heart. The great great grandson to whom you recently gave birth gets out of talking about quality of life with a 102 year-old.
If you could describe my great grandmother in one word, you probably would have said: spirited. You could have also said energetic, outgoing, sociable, communicative and amazing. She was an amazing lady. She went to Canada in her 60s, worked there to get a state pension and she slowly started pulling her close family overseas to live near her. Her daughters, her granddaughters and her great grandchildren. Living in her building, full of elderly people, she helped people who were younger than her. She was always helping somebody.
She was generous with her time and generous with her experience and she always knew her mind. Even in her last year, she still tried to run the care home in which she found herself, after living on her own for a long time. Even in her last decade, she insisted on going mushroom picking with my parents. She worked hard all her life and survived a lot of hardship. She was stronger than most and her strength of character kept her with us for so long.
But, as you age and enter the golden years of 80s, 90s and 100s, you see your family and friends pass away. What’s the fun in living when you can’t call your best friend on the phone anymore because she’s no longer there? What’s to laugh about when you can’t really read anymore and nobody will take you to the forest because you need a walker to move around? Watching my great grandmother through the last 20 years, I realised that such a long life can be a blessing, but it can also be a curse.
Her ability to adapt amazed us all. Born in 1906, she didn’t see a refrigerator or a television until well into her life. But, she adapted to life in Canada with fridges, cars, televisions, microwaves and photos of A streaming in through the magic of the Internet. She didn’t necessarily understand the technology (who does?), but she went with the flow.
I can’t quite accept that she’s no longer there, in her room, at the care home, sitting on the edge of the bed. I can’t accept the fact that I won’t see her again. Because I’ve lived abroad for nearly 11 years, I’ve only seen her sporadically. The truth hasn’t quite hit home yet even though I’ve cried and bumped around the flat for the past few days, lost, dazed and confused.
I am glad that we went to Canada at Christmas and I am glad that she got to see and hold A (5 generations all in one room). And we knew back then that it was probably the last time I would see her. When Mum and I talked about her passing, we both agreed that she’s no longer in pain, that she’s in a better place now. It would be selfish of us to want her to live a little longer, to be with us for a little more time. She was tired of life in March when we spoke, and she didn’t want to live forever. I think I understand that…
