This and that

It's a blustery, shitty day in London and I have cancelled plans with someone - partially because of this and also because I need to let her know that I am not her beck-and-call friend, that I do have boundaries even if she doesn't. I am all about the boundaries. Also, I think she may be somewhat crazy, so a little distance is probably for the best.

Bad weather aside, I've lately become obsessed with the idea of taking Hartley swimming. Even though young babies get cold quickly and can't handle much more than 10 minutes in the water, the preparation and clean-up that bookends the experience strikes me as a lovely way to pass some time. I must have been a water-wing in a past life or something, because I often have strong cravings for the smell of chlorine and the soggy atmosphere of a pool, even though I can't swim particularly well. But there are no classes nearby for mums and babies under six months and too many conflicting pieces of advice on when it's safe to introduce their young skin and systems to these elements and so I keep putting it off. I did buy him an incredibly cute little swimming costume though.

This month we are sorting out his passport in preparation for our first trip together, which we are taking at the end of May for our second year anniversary. We didn't really get to celebrate our first because I was suffering terrible morning sickness and anyway we had a house guest, so we want to do it up proper this year. We're still debating on where to go, because it needs to be baby-friendly and easy to get to without being too similar to what we'd be leaving behind. Prague, Belgium and the south of France have been tossed around as ideas, but we need to investigate these a bit more thoroughly. If any of you can think of a good holiday destination that fits the bill, I am open to suggestions.

A few weeks ago we took Hartley to get his BCG, which is this extreme injection for TB that first causes a sore and then turns into a small scar after three months. There hasn't been even a hint of inflammation at the injection site, however, and although I'd hoped this meant we'd gotten away with not having to experience this adverse reaction, my relief soon turned to suspicion, which a search on the internet confirmed: if swelling does not appear within 90 days, it means the inoculation might have 'failed', and hence we might have to go through that horrible experience all over again. So now I'm willing his sweet, chubby little baby wing to go all sore and red, which has caused a rather unpleasant disconnect.

Other than that, the three of us seem to be finally settling into a comfortable way of life. It's much too erratic still to call a routine, or even a pattern, but we've definitely got a handle now on what there is, at least for the time being. Never one to rest on our laurels, we are setting our sites on a distant goal that requires Bruce to learn to drive and me to take French lessons, though that's all I'll say for now.