status viatoris – being ‘on the way’/being in a state of pilgrimage
Utterly daff-t…
Spring is without doubt my favourite season.
The air of promise is almost tangible; the excitement of all buzzy and feathered things at being able to put the wintry struggle for survival aside in favour of more amorous pursuits, positively catching.
It does seem to have one adverse effect, though, and that is the turning of my Italian (and Albanian) friends’ and neighbours’ minds to thoughts of procreation.
And not even theirs… mine.
With my Little Italian Home almost finished (I am but a few doors and curtains away from a full pictorial exposé) and the Tigger/Toyboy situation still, by some inexplicable means, going from strength to strength after nearly eight months; the almost universal consensus of opinion seems to be that I should be submitting to the call of this most fertile of seasons and throwing together a bun for my oven.
I can only think that the snorting of too much pollen has caused such a staunch refusal to accept that nearly 35 is far too young to be thinking of motherhood.
Exceedingly much too young.
Ever so ever so young.
And anyway, as long as there are other women out there infinitely more suited for parenthood, I feel I am probably better off leaving the production and raising of the next generation in their capable hands.
Phew.
Welcome to the world, Viviana Michi Rose. This one’s for you!
This is Status Viatoris, and anyway I only have one bedroom and have sworn NEVER TO MOVE HOUSE EVER AGAIN so no space for a baby unless it sleeps in my sock drawer, in Italy.
21/03/2012 at 20:30 |
La primavera è la anche la mia stagione preferita!
Che post meraviglioso, è sempre bello leggerti, cara amica mia…un abbraccio grande!
21/03/2012 at 21:57 |
Evviva la primavera! Mi fa sentire di nuovo giovane e piena di speranza…
Baci, Miss F!
21/03/2012 at 20:57 |
And what would Pooch have to say to such a project….
21/03/2012 at 21:56 |
Pooch knows full well he’d end up being saddled with most of the childcare because I am still simply far too young and irresponsible to be a mother. Thank heavens for the wisdom of Pooch, I say…
22/03/2012 at 19:55 |
Couldn’t agree more SV, at your age you’re no more than a baby yourself, you keep your buns well clear of the oven!!
22/03/2012 at 20:38 |
There’ll be no baking for me in the near future, that’s for certain! And anyway, the sock drawer’s already full to burstin’…
22/03/2012 at 22:40 |
Of course you’re too young and carefree – I was 42 when I had my child, and still feel that it was too young 25 years later. How can I be ready to be a grandmother? Don’t give in to the hormones, they are Mother Nature’s con trick I’m sure. (Much as I love my daughter – I miss the ski trip planned for that year). Anyway, the dogs need me like Pooch needs you.
23/03/2012 at 11:10 |
Not sure I’ll ever be grown up enough to bring someone else up! I even catch Pooch rolling his eyes at me on occasion…
He sends the usual lix n’ wagz to your gang, by the way!