September 25, 2012


Time. It's flying by.  It's now over 10 weeks since Hugo was born (he has become the marker of time in our lives) and we are in a rhythm of sorts, where most things seem manageable, although that could be because I've stopped trying to do the hard stuff.  Hugo is now sleeping through the night (sort of).  We wake him for a feed at 10pm, and he's making it through till any time between 5-7am, though if he wakes at 5am he's asleep after a quick feed.  The other night, I couldn't be bothered expressing for his 10pm feed, and just fell asleep.  At the risk of jinxing our luck, I'm going to share that he slept for nearly 13 hours straight.

That was last Saturday, in fact.  The day I did something unmentionable, something I'm not proud of.  I forgot our anniversary.  Not our wedding anniversary, but the anniversary of when we first went out for that date in Covent Garden 11 years ago, the anniversary that we both feel is almost more important than our wedding anniversary.  After all, there would have been no wedding without that first day.  His first words to me were 'happy anniversary'.  His second: 'Did you really forget?!'.  Er, yes.  Which is hard to believe because (a) I've never ever forgotten anything like this before, and (b) all I think about is him, especially when he's not here.  I do things and think 'I must tell Will about that', I see things and I think 'Will would like that', I hear things and think 'he's going to find that so funny' and every now and again, I think about him and get annoyed because he didn't put something away where it belongs/threw his daks at the laundry basket and they ended up on the floor/forgot to mention he'd be working when I thought we'd be spending the evening together.

Truth is, with the boys, a baby, the redecorating, planning Ollie's 4th (FOURTH!) birthday party, and trying not to look in the mirror at this tired, withered old face, I just forgot.  And these aren't excuses, because I don't think you can blame anything on the busy-ness of life, especially not busy-ness that you've created yourself, but the anniversary just fell off the list of things on my mind.  Which is ironic really, because the first thing I think about in the mornings is him, and the last thing I look forward to at night is how he puts his arms snug around me before we fall asleep.

Anyway, he didn't forget.  He was his usual, sweet, thoughtful self, making me this beautiful card and giving me a well chosen and fitting gift, and writing to me a note that reminds me why I chose this man to be my husband.  He didn't once bat an eyelid that I forgot, which shamed me somewhat because I can only imagine what I would have done if it had been the other way round, right?  So all was good. Love was in the air.  And then I found his daks on the bathroom floor.

Happy anniversary.

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