I’ve been at it again on Pinterest. Usually I avoid it- because there’s only so much I can do- but after a prolonged absence, I’ve been googling and that inevitably leads me to Pinterest.

I logged on. I had 938 notifications that I’m not going to go through. For some odd, very, very odd reason, the Pinterest board I maintain that gets the most attention is my Richard Wilson/Victor Meldrew board. I’m a BBC nerd, basically. My second most popular is my board on Aga stoves. Yeah.

Anyway, I’ve been searching for ideas for Aubryn’s nursery area, which I’m hoping to transition her to soon. To be clear, she sleeps with me, both of us curled into a ball of tummies and knees and slappy little hands. Her knees bent toward my stomach, mine bent around her little bottom. We do this because I can’t deal with getting up 15 times per night to nurse, which seems to be a thing with our babies.

I’ll stop here and let you know that this isn’t my first rodeo, so I don’t need or want your advice. As children go, ours are pretty normal- but a few of them have had weird sleep issues, and Aubryn is one of them. She’s a little reflux-y, like one of her brothers was, so her sleep is sometimes interrupted by large and obnoxious burps that seem awkward coming from such a little peanut. No, we don’t know a food that makes it worse. Yes, we’ve tried to figure it out. Sit down and be quiet.

Anyway, she’s my first daughter. We’re also in current possession of larger rooms than we had previously, so I’ve begun thinking about  decorating for her- and I’m buried under a flood of ideas.

Today- working on a blanket. Saw a thundercloud/raindrop wall hanging I could easily make. Oooo…. amigurumi sun/moon/stars- yaasss. Rainbow? What about a blanket that looks like water?

I know! A framed cross stitch sampler bearing the message “Let her sleep, for when she wakes, she will move mountains.”

And then there’s the tree in the corner idea, the take- along village I’m designing.

I desperately want to paint.

I’m excited for the next stage, but I can’t say I’m not sad as well. It won’t happen overnight, but eventually, she won’t want to sleep curled into me anymore. That’s when I know that the threads are beginning to break. Necessary- but it goes by too quickly.

A poem I read recently kicked me in the throat or something, because I read it and went weepy-face. It is a poem by Biddy Jenkinson, in Irish originally, but translated into English by Padraigin Riggs.

How I welcome you, little salmon

who leapt the womb, impatient to commence life.

I undertake to be a river to you

as you follow your course from the haven of my belly to far distant seas.

Let yourself go, and drink your fill.

Suck sleep from me. By the terms of the breast-contract

I’ll suck back from your puckered lips

love, with which I’ll suckle another time,

and for that I’m grateful.

How I welcome you, salmon of sleep

who made a tranquil pool in my life-stream.

In the rhythm of your heart-beat

I hear the music of the Heavens,

and it guides my way.

Biddy Jenkinson, Wicklow, Eire