Rolling over

J rolled over today! What a milestone.

I think she did it by accident. She doesn't quite like being on her tummy, but I make sure she has some supervised tummy time every day. Today she figured out how to thwart me by promptly rolling over to her back from her tummy. And did it again, and yet again.

Clever girl!

Separations

It's been challenging spending the past five months mostly apart from my husband. We've had to live separate lives, which is difficult when we're most definitely not separated. So it's been rapturous being back together in the same location, catching up on the minutiae of our everyday lives. We've both changed, somewhat, and it'll be interesting getting to know each other all over again.

We'll never be apart for so long again, as long as I can help it.

Housework cuts breast cancer risk

Recent research shows that women who exercise by doing the housework can reduce their risk of breast cancer.

I'm somewhat ambivalent about this. Don't get me wrong, it's great that they've proven an activity to reduct breast cancer risk, but why couldn't it have been something like, say, shopping?

Home again

To people like us, 'home' is a nebulous concept. It's never absolute, always relative to where we are and the context of reference. Home can refer to any of :our current abode in the Netherlands, our parents' homes in Penang or Jakarta, our former homes in Waterloo or Cedar Rapids or even our hotel-of-the-moment.

I can only conclude that we lead peripatetic lives... where the simple question 'where do you come from?' can have almost a dozen answers, all of them true, depending on the context of the question. This makes for some confused listeners and may indicate confusion on our part.

But over time, I've learned that though we roll like stones, we have gathered some moss from all our various destinations and all together they make us who we currently are.

As for home, it may be a cliche, but the easiest answer is 'where the heart is'. And sometimes that heart belongs to various places. It doesn't make for easy living.

Home

Another summer day
Has come and gone away
In Paris and Rome
But I wanna go home

Maybe surrounded by
A million people I
Still feel all alone
I just wanna go home
Babe I miss you, you know

And I’ve been keeping all the letters that I wrote to you
Each one a line or two
“I’m fine baby, how are you?”
Well I would send them but I know that it’s just not enough
My words were cold and flat
And you deserve more than that

Another aeroplane
Another sunny place
I’m lucky I know
But I wanna go home
Mmmm, I’ve got to go home

Let me go home
'Cause I’m just too far from where you are
I wanna come home

And I feel just like I’m living someone else’s life
It’s like I just stepped outside
When everything was going right
And I know just why you could not
Come along with me
That this is not your dream
But you always believed in me

Another winter day has come
And gone away
In even Paris and Rome
And I wanna go home
Let me go home

And I’m surrounded by
A million people I
Still feel all alone
Oh, let me go home
Oh, I miss you, you know

Let me go home
I’ve had my run
Baby, I’m done
I gotta go home
Let me go home
It will all be all right
I’ll be home tonight
I’m coming back home

by Michael Buble

Most of the time, I hate the Netherlands - it's old-fashioned, inconvenient, rainy, flat and soul-destroying. And I could go on. Half the time we're there is spent thinking of our next trip away. But in some sense I'm looking forward to going back there. Like IT said, it's not great, but it's home. At least for now.

I've been away for almost five months and I'm coming back home.


NB - Michael Buble plays an awesome live show. He can sing live, of course, but he's also got lots of showmanship. Within a few minutes he's got the audience eating out of the palm of his hand. Great fun.

Chasing cars by Snow Patrol

We'll do it all
Everything
On our own

We don't need
Anything
Or anyone

If I lay here
If I just lay here
Would you lie with me and just forget the world?

I don't quite know
How to say
How I feel

Those three words
Are said too much
They're not enough

If I lay here
If I just lay here
Would you lie with me and just forget the world?

Forget what we're told
Before we get too old
Show me a garden that's burstin’ into life

Let's waste time
Chasing cars
Around our heads

I need your grace
To remind me
To find my own

If I lay here
If I just lay here
Would you lie with me and just forget the world?

Forget what we're told
Before we get too old
Show me a garden that's bursting into life

All that I am
All that I ever was
It’s here in your perfect eyes
They're all I can see

I don't know where
Confused about how as well
Just know that these things
Will never change for us at all

If I lay here
If I just lay here
Would you lie with me and just forget the world?

This one's for you, love.

Scatology

sca.to.lo.gy
noun
an interest in or preoccupation with excretion or excrement

Ever since J was born, I've been preoccupied with the contents of her diapers. Are her movements frequent enough? What texture are they? Colour? Consistency?

That was one of the surprises of motherhood - that I'd develop scatology, specifically with regards to my baby.

But it paid off yesterday when my eagle-eyes spotted a miniscule drop off blood in her stool. After a slightly panicked trip to the paediatrician, we found out that she has a small fissure in the anus which is easily treated with an antibiotic-cortisone ointment.

Three cheers for scatology and anxious new mothers!