Babies, jazz and the big picture
We went to a live jazz concert today at the new Canadian Opera Company. It was great - they offer free lunchtime performances to open up music to the masses.
I was pretty impressed with the fact that we managed an outing to a concert with three babies. They were all great - Amelia didn't cry at the sound of the saxophone or the crowd clapping (she's growing up!) and actually fell asleep half way through (that's my girl!).
In other news, things here are pretty busy. I'm amazed every single day at how little free time I actually have, between feeding Mela, grocery shopping, cooking for her and us and light cleaning. I feel constantly guilty, like I should be accomplishing "things" but days and then weeks go by and I can barely keep my microwave clean, let alone recover my dining room chairs, sort through my photos or organize the basement. I really am going to do those things but so far, there always seems to be something better to do (usually, it's playing with the baby).
And for some reason, I've found that having a baby has made me a lot more conscious of my own mortality. I don't know why but I find myself thinking about the fact that my life is like my mat leave: finite and probably about half over already. It makes me panic and think there's still so much I haven't done (although nothing immediately comes to mind, other than living with gorillas in the rainforest).
Usually, I try never to think of the fact that this play will eventually end but it's starting to freak me out when I look in magazines (e.g. Canadian Living) and all the woman in the ads are my age or younger. When my knees creak going up stairs or are sore when I sit too long, I think of the fact that my body is just going to get worse from here and that Amelia will only ever know an increasingly older version of me. She'll never know the young, energetic me who could sprint after a frisbee or eat cookies without guilt. And things will just get harder with future babies.
I know, I'm only 33 but the fact is that I never used to see the bigger picture and now I can. And it makes me terrified for a future that involves physical decline, saying goodbye to loved ones and possibly, a grownup Amelia who blames her parents for her problems and only ever calls them on holidays (somewhat unrelated but also something that keeps me up at night). I know we all want to be 25 forever but why is it that we never truly appreciate it when we are that age?
Cheerful, huh? Good thing I have a husband with a much brighter point of view, who reminds me that we have decades of great times ahead, filled with birthday parties, Christmas trees, swings in the park and mexican food with margaritas.
And Amelia will just have to listen to all the stories of when I was young. Poor thing!
PHOTOS:
Lisa feeding Nuala at the C.O.C. - who says babies aren't portable?
Angela and Rowan (lovin the sling):
Me and the princess (so good, despite the missed nap):
This is what Amelia thinks of jazz:
I was pretty impressed with the fact that we managed an outing to a concert with three babies. They were all great - Amelia didn't cry at the sound of the saxophone or the crowd clapping (she's growing up!) and actually fell asleep half way through (that's my girl!).
In other news, things here are pretty busy. I'm amazed every single day at how little free time I actually have, between feeding Mela, grocery shopping, cooking for her and us and light cleaning. I feel constantly guilty, like I should be accomplishing "things" but days and then weeks go by and I can barely keep my microwave clean, let alone recover my dining room chairs, sort through my photos or organize the basement. I really am going to do those things but so far, there always seems to be something better to do (usually, it's playing with the baby).
And for some reason, I've found that having a baby has made me a lot more conscious of my own mortality. I don't know why but I find myself thinking about the fact that my life is like my mat leave: finite and probably about half over already. It makes me panic and think there's still so much I haven't done (although nothing immediately comes to mind, other than living with gorillas in the rainforest).
Usually, I try never to think of the fact that this play will eventually end but it's starting to freak me out when I look in magazines (e.g. Canadian Living) and all the woman in the ads are my age or younger. When my knees creak going up stairs or are sore when I sit too long, I think of the fact that my body is just going to get worse from here and that Amelia will only ever know an increasingly older version of me. She'll never know the young, energetic me who could sprint after a frisbee or eat cookies without guilt. And things will just get harder with future babies.
I know, I'm only 33 but the fact is that I never used to see the bigger picture and now I can. And it makes me terrified for a future that involves physical decline, saying goodbye to loved ones and possibly, a grownup Amelia who blames her parents for her problems and only ever calls them on holidays (somewhat unrelated but also something that keeps me up at night). I know we all want to be 25 forever but why is it that we never truly appreciate it when we are that age?
Cheerful, huh? Good thing I have a husband with a much brighter point of view, who reminds me that we have decades of great times ahead, filled with birthday parties, Christmas trees, swings in the park and mexican food with margaritas.
And Amelia will just have to listen to all the stories of when I was young. Poor thing!
PHOTOS:
Lisa feeding Nuala at the C.O.C. - who says babies aren't portable?
Angela and Rowan (lovin the sling):
Me and the princess (so good, despite the missed nap):
This is what Amelia thinks of jazz:
Comments