Much of this blog is devoted to exploring and recording the little moments in the lives of my children that mark their growing up, but it occurs to me that it is simultaneously about me growing up too. A mortgage, marriage and proper job should all have been outward signs of that, but of course I felt that I was just playing at it most of the time. Still do, in fact.
But a definite sign of being grown up comes in the news that (and you need to hold the front page here) we have finally bought a new mattress for our bed. Prompted by an aching neck and back (other signs of growing up, or at least growing old...) and a mere twelve years on from our last one (which came with the bed itself and was probably not top of the range, given our financial state at the turn of the millenium). What a transformation this has made to our lives. I would never have believed it. Goodbye giant lumpy old paillasse, hello orthopaedic mattress, and with it the forgotten joy of actually sleeping through! (Something we celebrated in each of our children, but forgot to notice that we were not doing.) The delight of waking up feeling vaguely rested. The ecstacy of not being catapulted towards the ceiling because one of us turns over in the night... I could go on, but suffice to say after four nights it has been worth every penny.
Speaking of catapults, Eddie is developing a powerful throwing arm, much to the delight of his cricket-loving father. This does not, however, make for easy mealtimes, since I now have to recover crusts, bits of banana and any other unwanted food from much further afield than I did before.