RSS feedMolly’s still plumping up at the fat farm, AKA RPA Womens and Babies Special Care Unit. Louise is getting more sleep, and more regular on her expresses. And I’m having more client server problems which means this may well be the first day that I don’t get to see Molly.
About six months ago, Louise’s brother offered to send us her family’s traveling container load of clothes and equipment, as they’d been the last ones in Louise’s large family to have a baby. I was initially resistant because I wanted to experience the joy of learning about what we needed for our baby, to do detailed research into what the best or appropriate ones were to buy, and to not just have a DIY kit of everything you need just turn up on our doorstep. Louise didn’t see that side of it, she just wanted the container full, her family’s instant baby care kit.
So anyway, I never did any research, but they were kind enough to send us a list of what would be in the container load, and as I was reading through, my head went into spin, realising that I really had no idea what I was getting myself into. So I passed the list back to Louise and said “just tell them to send it all”. Molly hadn’t even been born, and she was already making her own decisions and thwarting my plans for how I wanted to experience fatherhood.
Now the rush was on to make room in the house. It never happened. Louise kept on holding off on sending it, thinking that at some point we’d have a nice free day to go through the house, clean up all the junk, and make some space. But we didn’t. Then Molly dropped in, and I just looked at Louise and said frantically “where’s that &*^%#@$&^ container load!”.
So it’s been a daily thing, Molly’s doing better every day, and every day we get closer to her coming home, and every day we think “we have nothing, where’s that damn container load”. Our neighbours suggested that an old drawer has been known to double nicely as a cot and with a bit of Selleys Liquid Nails, also a bath. Phoebe our cat will probably double quite nicely as a soft toy. And I have an old billy cart that will probably end up being our pram.
It’s all my fault of course. I have these silly ideas about how I want to experience life, and quicker than expected, we’re in the thick of it all. We think about a week until Molly comes home, and somewhere out there there’s a train heading it’s way to Sydney, with an ETA of roughly… ooh, about a week.