I’ve started a new series. On the last day of every month I choose an image to describe what I believe has been the month’s highlight. Today’s the last day of June. The sun has not graced us too often with its presence this past month, but still, a swimming pool virginity has been fabulously lost:
It’s a paradox perhaps, but one of the most important motions of my Stay At Home Mom’s life routine is, actually, that of going OUT of the home at least once a day. All through my first year and a half of motherhood, The Daily Walk has been my anchor to sanity and it had to rain fucking stones (or ninja stars) for me to agree, very rarely, on skipping it.
Going out with a baby is a bitch. It’s one of those slow, lonely processes, dotted with foul-smelling obstacles in the shape of last-minute dirty diapers, and the necessity to wear something else than your pajama (although, as you can easily imagine since the birth of my son I’ve been out in my pajamas more often than I got laid).
During the first year of V’s life, countless times I found myself wandering the streets like a ghost stuck between limbos trying to have him sleep in his stroller. Often, I was also so tired and angry I would run hate-rants in my head like hypnotic anti-lullabies to keep me awake while I walked. Sometimes, I felt frantic and abandoned and it blew my mind that no-one out there paid a spit of attention to me, my bloodshot eyes, and the baby I was rocking to sleep.
So one day I wrote a thoroughly sleep-deprived open letter to all those childless suckers making noises on the street while I tried to get my little one to finally nap and the hilarious and juicy Sammiches and Psych Meds decided to join my cause and publish it on their site. It goes a little something like this: Continue reading
Over the past two weeks, the Blues’ moved from a rented apartment in the old heart of town to the house by the mill they recently bought. Papa Blues: a double bed, a couch, three armchairs, two desks, one dining table, two folding guest beds, a baffling collection of Elton John records on LP, seven chairs, one woolen rug, a laundry machine, a (green) five-door wardrobe, three boxes of slides from the time he lived in New York, and enough kitchen gear to feed a small army. Mama Blues: 17 boxes of books, 273 movies on DVD, Continue reading