Up at 5.30am with my son, who had been restless throughout the night. He was standing up and crying and against the rules of our new sleep system I picked him up and hugged him. I figured it was unlikely that I’d get him back to sleep before 6 (his official waking hour), at least not by leaving him in his cot for five minutes. So I lay down on the bed with him and we both fell in and out of sleep for the next forty minutes.
It’s one of the loveliest things about having a baby (and he barely qualifies any more - he’s taking tentative steps now and can go four or five paces before tumbling), holding them as you sleep. It’s also scary, as you worry you’ll accidentally suffocate them or they will crawl off without you waking. But some of my happiest memories of both kids is them slumbering on my chest, or in my arms, even though I was invariably falling asleep myself.
As I had the fun of holding my son this morning, I felt a bit sad that it couldn’t go on forever. At some point a father holding his son in his arms in bed becomes inappropriate. But I want to hold him (and my daughter) forever. Why should him being 18 and me being 68 be any barrier to this? Obviously there is no way I would ever get into bed and cuddle with my own dad, because I am not sick. But I want my kids to want to be cuddled by me forever.
Apologies if I’ve expressed this thought before in a blog. My memory has been destroyed by booze and exhaustion. I am back on a diet and laying off the drink for a while though, as I got on the scales yesterday and think I might be the heaviest I’ve ever been (possibly not, but definitely have hit a landmark number of kgs that I really don’t want to be). But after one day I lost almost 2% of my weight (the weight I am at makes it pretty easy to do the percentages)
I had great plans to get down to work today and I did get a lot of admin things sorted out, but in the afternoon I sat at my desk and prevaricated. My Relativity scripts lay in front of me and I didn’t even want to pick them up. And I didn’t. Hopefully I will get in the right mind set soon. I am a little bit scared of the writing part of my work at the moment, resistant to it, maybe still deflated from the seeming failure of "Everything Happens (For No Reason)”. Writing is 57% psyching yourself up to do it, 42% perspiration and 1% copying stuff off the Goodies. I have enjoyed writing Relativity when I’ve actually been writing it, but I can’t remember feeling quite as fearful of the writing process before. But only because my memory is bad. I am certain that I always feel this way. Writing is, as I think we have established after 16 years of blogging, fucking horrible.
I did manage to read a chunk of “The Extra Man” by Jonathan Ames (who will be one of my guests on 24th September). I’ve read it before, but the good thing about my memory being shot to pieces is I can enjoy things again a few years on, having more or less forgotten what happens. He’s a brilliant and very readable writer. I am actually quite nervous about meeting him. But that always makes for the best RHLSTPs (ie the worst car crashes). Do read some of his stuff before the podcast. Not because it will help you enjoy the chat, but just because he’s fantastically funny and honest.
There was a spider as big as my hand in the downstairs loo tonight. Almost 3 centimetres wide.
I made a little preview podcast for series 14 of RHLSTP which gives details of how to contribute and who is coming up (including some names not yet released officially)