This time last year thinking about the future for me was too much to contemplate. The thought of housing a real, actual person, no matter how small, was enough to send my brain into meltdown. And imagining the task ahead – of expelling said small person out of my body and into the world was just too major to comprehend.
This year the future is all I can think about: Weaning, teething, coming off the boob, going back to work, nursery, pottery training, walking, talking, schools… But it doesn’t stop there. My mind runs away with me and before you know it The Baby’s a delinquent teenager and I’m on HRT.
Woah Nelly, right? But I just want what’s best for her, as every nervous new parent inevitably does for their first born. And while my future contemplation is magnified by the forthcoming move out of The Big Smoke, I wonder, does it ever stop? Or will my life forever be full of thoughts constantly bouncing two steps ahead of the next?
The Moon Pig is thankfully oblivious to such deep thought. All she needs to concentrate on is the next mouthful of mashed banana, or how many dogs we’ll count at the park. Her future’s so bright she needs herself some sunnies. And as long as I can keep it that way, I suppose we’ll be a-OK.