Momentum is nice. It makes life easy. When I’m out on my bike and something happens to rob me of my momentum (like a careless driver, an inopportune badger, one of
’s many glorious potholes, a hill) my internal dialogue becomes a torrent of spite and vitriol. Britain
I’m already discovering that there’s a definite benefit to momentum in parenting. It’s not proper momentum, before anyone points it out, but a feeling of it.
The mounting sense of invincibility that comes from two consecutive good nights of sleep. The palpable feeling of achievement from getting The Creature to sleep for a while so that we can do something else. Like eat. Or clean ourselves.
This weekend we had momentum. We felt like we were winning at being parents, largely characterised by not feeling like we were having to work at being parents.
We spent part of an evening in our local pub, we both had a drink. We chatted and smiled.
I went for an idyllic walk in beautiful sunshine. I wore the baby for three hours, the majority of which he was asleep and making the little snuffly noises that still make my brain go all melty round the edges when I hear them. I took these pictures to remind myself of how the world could look on a good day.
I’m not complaining, but for the time being we’re going uphill again. Grinding the pedals and powering through. Relying on the memories of the weekend to make it through the week. Looking forward to the next stretch of freewheeling momentum, no matter how many soiled nappies, sleepless nights and vomit soaked babygros away it may be.
So, yeah, parenting. A bit like a bike ride, but less sweaty.