sidewalk scribbling

It isn't very adorable but so many things about living in times of a pandemic are like surviving the first months of becoming a parent. Like washing your hands persistently.  Like restricting shopping jaunts to the online world. Like not going to the cinema. Like realising how little is actually in your control. Like wondering if life will ever be the same. As tiny and sweet as newborns are, I must say 3 months onwards they get so, so much more fun. At almost 6 months, they are just too freaking edible (I have to say, however, when people say 'enjoy this, it's the best age', I get a bit worried because when did you ever enjoy a situation all the more because somebody reminded you of its temporariness?). I still wash my hands fairly regularly but they don't feel like chipping tree bark anymore. I can't say I enjoyed the utter fragility of newborns either. The gummy eyes, the flaky skin, the red spots, the constant "watch his head, his neck, ...

There are people who can make a cup of coffee or start a new episode about fifteen minutes before they should be leaving for the airport (because they have a flight to catch or something) – except these are the people who would never say ‘I’m going to leave in 15 minutes’, it’s more like, a few minutes, oh, maybe a couple more, in a bit, can I at least finish my coffee? They’re the people who can simply walk at an even pace to catch their bus, or think about what they ate for dinner last night rather than outline the 7 things they will do first when their plane lands, and then an alternate 7 steps in case their bags take too long to arrive. Would it surprise you greatly if I said I don’t happen to be in the above category of people? Over-thinking and its two best friends, anxiety and guilt - picture a cheery trio holding hands and skipping towards a raging fire.  Okay, so a fire is a bit dramatic, let’s change it to a bumpy, muddy shallow hole in the ground? I ...