Blessed

Ruby has a pooey nappy, and, by God, I can't be bothered to change it. I should of course. I should have whipped it off the second I smelt her and wiped her soft little bum clean. But you know what? She's happy, just slightly pongy, so I think she can wait 10 minutes till bath time. Sometimes I wonder, "is this it? Is this all my life is?". Changing nappies and bathing children. Where is the adventure?


Still, I wouldn't swap it, despite all my complaining. I heard the most gut wrenchingly sad story on the news this week. A woman let go of her stroller for a moment while she was talking on the phone and her baby rolled into a river and drowned before anyone found him. I can't get the image out of my head of that woman kneeling helplessly next to her little boy as the paramedics tried to resucitate him. That night when I went to check on Ruby before I went to bed I just stood next to her and stroked her downy cheek and thought of that poor family.