1. LISTS – I mean, really. It’s not that I don’t like lists. On the contrary, I think they are a fun and fresh writing form, fast and easy to read, funny and to-the-point, which are all qualities I appreciate. What I don’t appreciate though, is when something is absolutely EVERYWHERE. Blogs, online articles, books even [“Parenting In 71 Lists“? Rings a bell? Bestselling e-book of the season on A$@zon??] – it seems that if it’s not something like “13 ways in which you are worse than your mother-in-law“, “42 things I wish I knew when I was 42” or “7 deadly sins that are actually quite lively“, it has virtually NO chance of being read. Do you want your whatever-it-is-you-wanna-write to be shared on FB an infinite number of times, get you 3.5K likes and go viral ’round the globe in half an hour? Well then you better start every sentence with a number.
today has not been easy, I know. A day when nothing tastes right, because anything you put in your mouth simply hurts. Hell, it hurts even if you don’t put anything in there. No wonder: three of them, all at once! And you’ve been taking it with your chin up, with that tough baby pride which is so you. Three swollen buds on the upper gum and you can see the white through the skin already. You didn’t cry much, but you’ve been cross, restless, desperate for a hug all day long. It just hurts, and only Mama’s breast feels right, Mama’s chest, neck, being in her arms, nowhere else is good. Not even the Cold Fish was of any use to relieve you a bit. Growing up is so tough, I know.
Yesterday was the last official day of World Breastfeeding Week. But because the benefits of drinking Mother Milk are so vast and understated, I don’t see why we should wean ourselves from the theme just yet.
But first, let’s make something clear.
If you had walked up to me two years ago to say that it’s World Breastfeeding Whatever and that we all need to support this coz it’s important and stuff, I most probably would have stared back at you blank and then carefully changed subject. Because to me (then) it would have sounded something like “Hey, let’s go out, pick up a banner and protest against Fake Tits! Because Fake Tits are bad you know, they fuck with women’s self-esteem, they cause hazard to one’s health, they give young girls a twisted vision of femininity and such and so and we really have to scream it to the wind so everyone hears and people will finally stop wanting to have Fake Tits!…”
It’s lunch-rush hour in the crowded cafe’: every table is taken, a frenzy of people holding their take-out sandwiches, paper cups, smoothies, eating while standing among clouds of steam hissing from the huge coffee-machine.
AUDIENCE, a dynamic-looking, multi-ethnic woman in her thirties sits on a high stool at the counter by the window. She is flipping through a newspaper, keeping en eye on the social media pages open on her tablet and smartphone.
The guy sitting next to her downs the rest of his Triple Espresso and takes off, leaving an empty spot. Immediately, someone else appears: a young boy, barely 18, a simple coffee on his tray.
It will not stay here for long coz I’ll delete it as soon as I’ll have the layout figured out. It’s Sunday night and B is cooking something that I don’t know what it is but it smells like heaven. I’ve been trying to get V to fall asleep for two and a half hours.
I don’t know if he’s sleeping now. I hope so.
What I see while I write
This is the view from our livingroom window. The light is always breathtaking somehow, even when it’s grey.