Good lord. Normally I don’t feel compelled to qualify my posts, but when I got home last night I heard that what I wrote yesterday depicted a life of total drudgery.
“Are you that unhappy?” asked R.
And the answer is, Jesus, no, of course not! First of all, there’s usually a little literary license in my posts – I may actually have up to TWO hours to do what I want in an evening. The truth is that my life right now is extremely repetitive in a lot of ways, and I have very little time to myself. But no way would I ever trade it for my old life, where there was more money, more time, more travel, more “freedom.”
At 5:30 or 6 most nights, you’ll find me seated across from Eeyore’s high chair, watching him figure out how to pick up a butterbean and get it to his mouth, or make little stabbing motions at the bowl with his spoon to imitate how I scoop out his food. Last night after he finished his eclectic dinner of turkey, avocado and sweet potatoes (I’m still working on how to balance a meal), he and I sat out on the front steps and watched our cat roll around on the walkway while he ate his very first homemade cookie. We practiced standing up. We checked out our neighbor’s flowers. I gave him a bath and he tried to climb out of his little tub, the head of his hippo tub toy wedged into his mouth with the help of his two teeth.
So, repetitive and yet not. It’s fascinating to be along for someone else’s ride, and I figure the books and magazines I don’t have time to read for myself right now will still be there when this phase is over.
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