Midnight Musings

Image Description: A view of a calm sea, with some white foam at the bottom of the picture and a dramatic sky in the top half of the image.

It’s one of the big ironies of my new parenthood that despite a dire need to sleep, I can’t seem to go to bed before 1 am. I mean, sure, I can lay in bed at ten, but that doesn’t mean sleep comes. It seems my mind, finally getting a moments quiet, has to suss out all the threads, niggle at all the loose bits, and sort through all the junk that has accumulated in a day.

There’s the sourdough starter that, despite not having leavened a single loaf of bread yet, has a name, Bubbles, and will have it’s grand debut tomorrow. I didn’t realise bread is made only from flour, water, salt and starter. No wonder it can be so bad. A multitude of ingredients can hide all manner of sins. Like an unfulfilling life can be hidden through busy busy busyness.

There’s this idea of moving. Towards something. Which I didn’t do when I moved to Vienna. That was a move away from. A city, a life, a way of being. It’s an entirely different story to move towards something. It feels perilous: Can I trust the ease with which this decision seems to already have been made?

Speaking of ease: The ease with which we took to parenthood. I know I’m supposed to add a caveat, either about how, of course it’s hard, or about how I am lucky to live in a country with paid parental leave, or that I have an easy baby. Disingenuous.

There’s wondering if I can sit the child in a high chair at four months old. Supported of course. And that I need to give the dogs their deworming tablets.

It’s cold out. Really cold. And I haven’t left the house for days. I don’t feel guilty about this either.

I am creating a tropical paradise inside my home. I’ll add new shelves, once my cuttings have taken root and been planted, and need a place. The fullness of all those green leaves in terracotta pots. The various shades, and little flashes of red and white.

I miss the sea, and the idea that I will not see my beloved Baltic this year, either, hurts. Just like the family that can’t visit and welcome the baby. That’s pandemic life for you: When we can’t hold those we love, we have sourdough and house plants, and nurture them.