This week I’m beginning to feel a little freaked out by how quickly the time is flying…
When I started my maternity leave it felt like forever stretching ahead of me, but two months have just whizzed by in what felt like two weeks. It’s lack of variety that does it… all of those days spent in a sofa-sprawled blur underneath a suckling baby – they merge into one. I need to find some better things to do with my time. At the very least I ought to be a lady who lunches.
Even worse – I’ve got to the stage where all of the property porn on TV has become repeats from a few months ago. I’m now watching re-runs of people buying Italian villas and crumbly French farmhouses, damn it. That and Three in a Bed (which is basically Come Dine With Me for B&B owners… and just as horribly addictive). In a state of abject desperation I sampled about 4 minutes of Loose Women the other day… suffice to say I won’t be doing that again.
Meanwhile what is new? Not very much. James’s baby hair is beginning to fall out, leaving the back of his head looking very messy and patchy, like a balding man who has not quite worked out how to style his comb-over. (I wonder what he will look like bald?)
Rather annoyingly my baby book tells me that my girth has now finished auto-shrinking and, from this week on, any further shrinkage will require a diet and exercise regime. Tsk.