The Christmas holiday are finally at an end. The girls are back at school and nursery and I have time to write. My brain is still thick with festive fog. I’m stuck in play dough mode, trying to find the adult brain within. I had planned to be organised and do a big shop on Tuesday before the first day of term, but of course, Tuesday was Spanish Christmas and all the shops were shut. I stared into the abyss of our empty fridge and thought about sending them in with lunchboxes filled with dog food and chocolate coins, then I found some bread sticks and a tangerine and prayed that lunch wouldn’t be lentils.
The holidays were quiet and cosy. My baby is about to turn two and I will soon have two little girls. I wish that I could take a photo of a feeling. I was lying on the sofa watching ‘Mog’s Christmas’, for the 11th time, the exquisite heft of the baby resting on my chest. I sniffed her neck and tickled her soft little belly. Someday soon she’ll shoot up like her sister and be a lovely bag of bones. I must savour the squish while i can.
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