Day 14

Fourteen glorious days! Scientists reckon evolution takes millions of years... and yet here I am a completely new organism after just two weeks. Barely recognisable from my previous self, except for pretty much everything about me. Pretty sure I'd find it easier to develop gills or grow a snail-like shell than actually get some of these habits to become automatic.

You know, if you ask me what my absolute favourite moment of these days has been, it's that moment when I am lying in bed, teetering on the very brink of falling asleep, my head sinking in to the pillow and listening to the gentle electric hum of the heater. When everything is relaxed and sleepy, babies snoozing quietly, and all the chores for the day are finished, all the demands dealt with, except maybe the demand of rolling over and thumping Dave in the neck with my elbow to stop him snoring. A moment of pure bliss, unspoiled by yapping, whining, stomping or grizzling of any kind. The urgency of using each second to it's best advantage, of getting somewhere or doing something, of being productive, just fades away, and for that moment, I am a creature unbridled by time, set free from the current of the passing minutes and hours. I am a quiet harbour, a still pool, a whole bunch of other literary blah blah.

And then the moment passes, and I am deeply, inelegantly dead to the world, with my mouth hanging open and a bit of dribble crawling down my face to the pillow.

Conversely, my least favourite moment of the day is becoming slowly aware of that same bit of dribble all crusty on my cheek, the baby making a noise like a chainsaw doing warm-ups, and Finn sticking his bony little elbow into my side to try and dig himself a bunker to curl up in in our bed. It's not that I particularly hate mornings, it's just that they require me to wake up and function. Time starts up again, and gets faster and faster the longer I try to stay in bed and fight it. And the six-thirty deadline creeps closer and closer, along with the knowledge that even though I feel exactly the same amount tired and sleepy as I did just before popping off the log last night, this time I must reverse the process and un-relax myself. The moment of bliss has ended - rudely - and now I will pay for it in the currency of the daylight: work, work and work.

I confess - for the last couple of mornings, six-thirty has gone whizzing by, with me giving it the metaphorical finger from under the covers.

Why is it so so hard to get up in the mornings?? You'd think after twenty-nine years of practising it every day I'd kind of be getting the hang of it now. Seriously, I should just give up and try to grow that shell instead.

M xx