Today is our one year anniversary of Singapore family life.
I wish I had some profound thoughts to share with you. But in describing my mind the words "random" and "useless" are the ones most often used (not just by me, unfortunately). And besides, there's a lot to be said in favour of skating happily on the superficial glacial surface of the unconscious, instead of trying to probe its depth. It's cold and dark down there.
This is what the beginning looked like:
One day during our first week in the Lion City, S. came home to the hotel room where we were staying to find E. and myself asleep, curled up around each other on the floor next to the bed we hadn't managed to crawl into. Outside the F1 cars were screaming through the streets, inside we were huddled together underneath layers of clothing and bed covers, as the aircon blasted icy air on full power, oblivious of my fiddling with its knob.
Life has gotten better since:
Just now E. woke up from her nap, has dropped out of bed and is wobbling around the living room on unsteady, sleep filled legs. I sit at the computer typing this post, mentally going through the list of things I need to do before E.'s playdate at her friends' R., where S.'ll pick her up because I have my photography class tonight. My lack of interest is not to E.'s liking. She flounces off. As she walks away from me, I pout, causing her to scream with laughter, turn, run and throw herself into my arms. "Ow", I say winded. "Careful with the baby." "Baby kiss", she says and kisses my belly. Then she walks off, repeating the sequence until a sudden thought pops into her head. "Mama smoothie?"
So I'm off on a house search for almost-rotten-oh-so-juicy fruit to mash into lumpy puree'd - excuse me, smooth - oblivion with my trusted imported Braun hand mixer and serve to my child after which we will go swimming. We are living the tropical life.