Littlest (week three)

Littlest,

This post is very late, in fact, tomorrow you're four weeks old.

And I still don't know where the time has gone. (If I could save time in a bottle, the first thing that I'd like to do is to save every day till eternity passes away just to spend them with you - Jimmy Croce)

I'll try to cast my mind back a week, because I really don't want to forget any of these days, and already they're so hazy - your deep and changing eyes, your funny expressions, the fine down along the rim of your ears, your tiny fingers clinging to one of my larger ones.

Last week, my Little one, was a haze of sickness. Your Daddy and I were still in the heart of it all and with the sleepless nights and your Daddy's long hours - sometimes not getting home till ten or eleven pm - it was all a mess.

But you were beautiful. Time spent just staring at you, drinking you in, made everything better. You had the slightest of snuffles but were still so alert, your eyes focusing on windows and ceilings with rapt attention.

You'd wake early each morning for a long feed, then fall asleep as soon as the car started on the school run, and generally sleep through being loaded into your sling, walked to and from the classroom, placed back in the car seat, taken out again, loaded into your sling, walked to Poppet's classroom, and put back into the car.

You stayed in your sling, a little warm presence beside my heart, like a little pouched possum-babe for a lot of the day. You looked around as we hung up the washing, fed the worms their scraps, swept the floor.

It is the same sling that we got for your brother, all those years ago. Your Daddy sat with your brother through most of the night for the whole of his first week, with him in that sling. I think he got through seventy levels of World of Warcraft. It was too hot for the tropics when we moved when Sprocket was four weeks, so it was packed away - and then with your sister there were two little ones so the double pram was handier and the sling was hardly used. Now, out of storage once again, I hardly take it off.

You got glitter on your face at playgroup last week, little one, and I couldn't help smiling and thinking it was the first time of many. Purple glitter sprinkled on your cheek and your near-bald head. You slept peacefully in the travel cot a kind mum brought in, and the children were all fascinated, going over to stand on tiptoe to peer down at you, coming over to study you when you woke and decided it was time for your feed.

The nights have been mild compared to your first week when it was bitterly cold- we haven't rugged you up as much, and you sleep with your little arms outstretched above your head.

The autumn leaves are rapidly going - winter approaches fast. I am looking forward to rugging you up in all your little hats and woollens.

My first tiny baby who will have a complete, proper winter.

But each bare tree reminds me of how quickly time is passing - the full, vivid glory of autumn only arrived when you did - and already it is fleeing. Much as I am eager to see the person you are, to watch you grow through every age, I wish I could slow these days down, that this time with you so small and perfect, would last far, far longer.

Writing Wednesday

I'm lying in bed on this cold grey day, my newborn babe asleep on my chest, my feverish little girl tucked into my side.

For a few moments I had plans to get up and actually tidy the house, as they both appeared to be asleep. I carefully eased out of bed to change Littlest's nappy - at which point she puked all over herself, me, and the change mat, (o the waste of all that milk, the waste!) and my Poppet woke up and promptly wet the bed. (Thank you mattress protectors, you deserve a million awards and all praise.)

Stripping off the bed, the babe, the feverish girl and myself, both girls started wailing. Littlest wanted to be held and replacement milk, Poppet wanted cuddles and to curl back up in bed.

I gave up on any thoughts of getting out of bed this afternoon until it's time for the school run. As soon as all the dirty stuff was in the wash and we were all re-clothed, it was back to bed.

Obviously, the universe wants me to get some writing done.

And there are worse things in the world than an afternoon in bed with a sleeping babe warming my tummy, her little face upturned towards me, one hand curled possessively around the milk as she makes little snuffly 'ahhing' noises, her blue-grey eyes half open and flickering, even though she seems half asleep. My poor Poppet is pale but red cheeked, her closed and sleeping eyes darkly shadowed as she cuddles into my side.

Last week, in an attempt to give myself motivation with deadlines, I decided I wanted to edit three chapters and critique three chapters in the coming week. I've critiqued three chapters on Scribophile - and it was wonderful to get lost again in stories, to consider language and plot as I thought about what worked and what didn't work for me in others' tales, to have the excitement of new tales and the joy of returning to old favourites.

The editing? Well, I kept at it, only to realise I was editing two different versions of the same story.
The perils of a messy desktop and no proper filing system for multiple drafts.

So my aim for this week? To sort out all my different versions of stories, and edit another two chapters, and to do another three critiques on Scribophile. We seem to be at the tale end of the run of sickness (touch wood) so I live in hope.

How has your writing gone? Have you set yourself any deadlines? Managed to avoid the nearly-winter-leurgies?

Moments

- Mother's day crysanthemums from last year flowered a week late this year. (I couldn't resist another pot today on post-mother's day sale, but that will be a photo for next week…)
- we are deep in illness and lemon honey drinks have been guzzled like water.
-it seems like autumn only just arrived and now winter approaches… my bulbs are also coming out as well as the first of the quince blossom… so spring is also lurking!
-my Littlest. Three weeks old and that is so totally a smile!

Joining with Em for stills from our week.

Writing Wednesday

Oddly enough, now my Littlest is out in the world, my writing hiatus seems to be at an end. (I can roll over in bed! I can bend! I can walk ten paces without losing my breath! I can lie down without being choked with heartburn! And, most importantly, O happy day, I can write!)

And so, with great celebration, I am returning to my beloved stories and characters. They never really left me - at night, caught between waking and sleeping I'd run through images and scenes, mull over characters and unravel plot tangles, but putting fingers to keyboard? Not so much.

I've finally transferred all the manuscripts I want to work on this year onto the laptop possessing its full complement of keys and without cracks in the screen, renewed my membership of Scribophile, my online writers group and… set to work. (This time with a sleeping baby on my lap - her noisy breathing makes a lovely soundtrack and she herself is a brilliant little heater.)

It is wonderful to have that rush and thrill again, to pick up where I left off and throw around ideas and images, get lost in dialogue. I've missed it.

I've started small with editing. I was perplexed to realise that I've used the same rather dodgy word on every second page of the first three chapters of the novel I'm working on. Hmm.

A friend pointed out with a previous manuscript that every time I described a dragon - which was a lot I used the word 'flanks'. I seem to have done a similar thing here, but because my protagonist uses sharper language than I'm accustomed to, I've used a pseudo swear word in place of what she'd really use…I've started to wince every time I see it. Let me redress that.

In order to keep my momentum going I've decided to set aside one blog a week to keep myself accountable with my writing.

So: This week, I've edited three chapters, and marked out writing on Scribophile that I'm very much looking forward to critiquing. Next week - I'd like to edit another three chapters (some of which are mere outlines which will need to be rewritten) and critique at least three chapters on Scribophile. There's also a synopsis I need to work on… again.

What are other people working on?

Littlest (Week Two)

Littlest -

You've been out in the world with us two weeks now - and I still can't quite get over the wonder of you. Many hours of the day are lost just in staring at you. The little movements of your hand - the way you can curl your fingers back as you wave your hands, keep me entranced. The way the light falls on the fineness of your skin. The content of your face as you finish the last of your milk and fall into sleep, all curves and dimples.

You are beginning to observe the world more and more. You watch through blue grey eyes - your gaze slowly moving from here to there. Your gaze latches on me - holds and then moves on to study the window-sill or fireplace with awe.

You continue to make the sweetest, funniest little noises, from the gulping as you struggle to keep up with the milk, to the soft 'ahhing' as you sleep. You're sleeping now, in the bassinet beside me, and the gentle sound of your breathing makes me smile. A few little creaking sounds and then some panting, and back to creaking. "Urrh. Urrh."

You observe your brother and sister with every sign of disapproval, your little mouth downturned like a small Queen Victoria. We are not amused.

Every day I learn something new about you - you love to be moving - to travel. You fall asleep almost instantly in the car, you love being walked out in the garden. The hair at the back of your head is the softest thing I've ever felt. You love your bath, and hate being taken out. You don't mind having your nappy changed, but you hate having clothes put on and off.

Sprocket and Poppet love you very much. When you were crying in the car your brother made up a lovely lullaby for you - it only had two words "Little Baby, Little Baby", but it was very melodic.
Your sister asks frequently to hold you - although admittedly she only wants to for a few seconds at a time. But she strokes your hair and proclaims you 'adorable' and 'the cutest'.

You have had a very busy second week. We've had a whirlwind trip to Melbourne to see your Great Great Aunt who is only in Australia for a few short weeks, cramming it in between dropping Sprocket and Poppet off at school and hurrying back in time to pick them up. You were brilliant - you slept the two hours there and the two hours back and fed well and were so alert while we visited. You've visited your first thrift shop (and slept the whole time in your sling). You've been walked around many playgrounds, gone supermarket shopping (the little capsule in the trolleys is not for you - you want to be held close in the sling, thank you very much) and been 'patted' by many school children, your head carefully stroked as they crowd around. One little girl recited Ten Little Fingers & Ten Little Toes, the lovely Mem Fox story for you.

We are - slowly- getting better at the school run as I learn to time your feeds better and take into account the explosive nappy that's bound to happen just as I'm heading out the door. Have I knowingly run out the door with baby poo on my skirt this week? Why, yes. I just wasn't willing to spend the time changing or cleaning when it meant I might be late for pick up - but you were all cleaned up. (I didn't know about the wet patches on my top till too late...)

The days have continued beautiful. In the mornings we have driven sometimes through almost pure white fog - unable to see more than a few metres ahead - with sometimes the stark silhouette of a tree visible, and sometimes slants of sun illuminating the fields around for a moment. By midmorning the mists clear to reveal clear cloudless blue. The grass is vividly green with the rain now, the autumn colours vibrant.

Our darling Possum, our Lilli-Pilli, our little Froglet, our Squawkatron. You make our family complete and we are so glad to have you here.