Countdown to Number Two

My days off are numbered.

The mid-trimester hormone boost has finally arrived and Sofia’s two nursery days are once again a little oasis in my week. Along with catching up with household admin, tidying, washing etc I have a little energy to spare to indulge in some blogging, snatches of reading, pulling up the odd weed in the garden and generally pottering about the flat with Radio 4 as I get my head around accommodating another family member into the compact space that is our home. (I finally have a clear head and a motive for sorting through all the miscellaneousness squirrelled into plastic bags since Sofia was born: stuff too small, stuff still too big, donated stuff that may prove useful if I could fathom what it was for. At last I understand what we need and what we don’t for the next baby).

But come September I’ll be besieged again. The marathon of feeding, changing, coming up for air and passing out with exhaustion will recommence. Probably for another year. I’m looking forward to having another baby. But I’m a bit scared. I know how important these two days per week of breathing space have been for my survival.