Always wondered about those obsessed idiots with pictures of their kids on their desks....
...I've got a huge colour pic of her right next to my work computer, staring straight at the camera, looking slightly argumentative, with her little fists clenched.
I have another Bear pic as my screensaver.
I have a small album of JPEGs of her and her mum which I look at several times a day. Often my heart locks up and I want to cry.
Work's going ok, but I hate it, being away from her. The first day it was almost pathological, and it hasn't improved much since.
She changes by the day. After a week of looking a teensy bit more like me, she's got beloved-features blossoming again. Perhaps beloved's facial expressions are dominant because I'm no longer around so much.
I hate that thought, resent every hour away.
Beloved is doing magnificently, having some hard times. I've stated the stupifyingly obvious on this blog before, but i'll do it again- it's not easy raising an infant on your own. With 2 cats, admittedly pretty well behaved, to watch as well.
When I get home and I hold my Bear she becomes quite still and looks me straight in the eye. Until I went back to work, at the start of this week, she never looked at me more than a few seconds at a time. Now it's like: "Oh, you, I remember you from this morning, let's eyeball you and see if your bona fides hold out, mista!" I can't move, of course. We've stared at each other for up to 10 minutes, the world passing by in the distance, irrelevant.
I think I've used the cliche-sounding term a few times now, but my chest really does tighten up. She clamps my arteries.
Poet Laureate stuff, hey?
Challenging family photography - From Susan Copich’s “Domestic Bliss” series. Before you click on the link I should warn you that her black humour extends to suicide and infanticide.
3 hours ago