I had a little operation last month. It went well and I feel fine now, thankyouforasking, but the one thing the surgeons told me I Absolutely Really Truly Cannot Do while I'm recuperating is lift anything heavier than 4 kilos. Not-so-little-anymore Ms Marmalade weighs 10 kilos (closer to 11 after a big meal), which has put the kibosh on me getting her in and out of her cot, into her highchair or onto the change table, so for the next month or so we have a nanny coming every day to look after Ms M. Mr Fantapants and Supernanny tag team in the morning and afternoon so that all of Ms M's lifting needs are met. Supernanny spends the day singing and dancing and lifting Ms M and I do my work-work and other baby-related chores like cooking and laundry.
Aside from the fact that I am very sad not to be able to take care of Ms M myself, it really is a very good arrangement. Except that it's left me with something I haven't had for the past year: spare time. And since I've spent the last year longing for a little window in each day that was not spent being a big Mack truck or a little teapot or doing the hokey pokey or trying to make pureed vegetables 'fun', I really feel that I must make the most of it.
I considered doing my own little Nanowrimo but I fear that would be setting myself up for failure, so instead I'm going to commit to writing a post on this blog every day until Supernanny unfurls her parrot-head umbrella and flies into the distance. Or every weekday, at least. Yes.