...8 months.

My snotty, coughy, poor wee thing is 8 months old today... She is the happiest wee sicky I have ever seen, but only when she is in my arms. Making it hard to type anything, especially a well thought out blog post. I have started 3 posts in the last two weeks so when I do get a chance to sit and type with two hands I will be prolific.

I truly treasure that I am able to hold my dear baby while she breaths raspily on my chest. She has just fallen asleep sitting up on my lap. Her face caked in snot, as it is perpetually these days. Gurgling each breath through her open mouth. Goobers will glue her eyelashes shut as she sleeps. Under her nose and her bum, red and raw. Must be awful to have fiery pain at both ends. My clothes are all covered in slobber and snot stains and I thank the goddesses for giving nursing mothers immunity of steal. I can feel the sickness creeping in a little but I hold it at bay so I can look after my girls.

Perhaps this sickness came at just the right time. I broke down in tears this week thinking about how these 8 months have passed by and I have spent so much of it bemoaning how I have so much to do and am unable to do it. Being haunted by my overwhelming list of tasks so long uncompleted. Obligations unmet.... In trying to chip away at my list I have often been distracted and ineffective at any of my many jobs. The list is still there. The obligations must be met. But this week I have seen that I can slow down, choose my task and bring my full attention to that task alone. It feels good. I am glad the task that caught my attention was this one of holding my babe and being present to her as she struggles through her first crummy sickness.