Corn on the cob

People say some seriously corny things when they have children.  "Your life will never be the same again."  "It's the best thing I have ever done with my life."  If you asked me what my opinion was a year ago, my answer would have been : "Blah blah blah."

Because, until you taste it for yourself, this particular brand of corn is only yellow.  You cannot describe it in a different way than the pictures you have seen.  There is no truth or taste.  Sweetcorn, for instance, has a delicious moreish burst in the mouth.  But it leaves you with annoying skins in your teeth.

The latter part is not advertised on the packaging.  In the same way (maybe I am extra tired tonight), the goos and gaas are advertised more often than the sleepless nights.  Take a nappy ad for instance.  You only see happy babies.  You never see the potential contents of said nappies.  Because then no one in their right mind would make the purchase.  Except for those who have actually seen the contents.

And that is the beauty of it.  Your life will never be the same.  And it will be the best thing you have ever done or tasted.  Because, even though there will be skins in your teeth; The yellow bursts will make it all so worth it.

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Perfect strangers

I had the unfortunate privilege of taking my husband to the airport this morning.  The problem was not the early morning.  The problem was not that I had only slept for about 4 hours, interrupted.  The problem was that I had to take him to the airport and leave him there.  To go home and wait for me for 2 weeks.

Our baba is only 2 months old.  That's 73 days.  All of those spent in sleepy, loved-up bliss.  And our trip to the airport suggests the start of at least 14 days apart.  Ouch.

Realising this, my heart became big with tears.  You know, aching chest, lumpy throat.  As I stood by the security check point, separated from the love of my life by a semi-frosted pane of glass, I simply couldn't keep my heart from overflowing.  I picked my baby up for comfort.  Yes, I tried to use my daughter to comfort me.

An older lady, keeping a quiet eye on me, came over and offered to look after my pram so that I could get closer to the glass, to say bye.  When I came back, she took my baby from me and held her, so that I could calm down.  A friendly pat on the arm aided my calming.

I'd never met her before.  And in a country where we are forever watching our backs and personal contact seems a lot like reckless behaviour, this stranger was simply perfect.