Think, think

24 hours. A long time to ideate. And sometimes, too short to hold even a single thought. Three months of domestic life and I am already struggling to stay afloat fighting the deluge of thoughts. All kinds of thoughts. Of my yesterdays that were filled with an actionable idea a day, sometimes two. Today I am living on an hourly basis. Feeding hour, sleeping hour, eating hour and feeding hour again. Its difficult to call it a day, there is no definite end to one and the beginning of the next. So thoughts have very little shelf life. A random one might stay longer than another, but it may not be deserving of my precious little mindspace. Just good timing can get it attention. So I consider myself incapable of rational judgement, for the time being.
But most important are future thoughts. And thoughts of the future. As a TV journalist I am used to advance planning. The kind that is always accompanied by the caveat of uncertainty. Plans often get shelved in the hurry of breaking news (or someone else’s plans, not necessasarily better). But those are story plans. Insignificant things that matter for 90 seconds. It’s funny how you can give something all you have, and then find it insignificant from an armchair view. Life is longer than 90 seconds. Plans have to be definite. Certain. Clear. Life cannot depend on breaking news. Rather, it better not. So what will tomorrow be like? What’s my day plan, MIS? Any ideas?

Baby to be

Your jelly feet
my wobbling tummy
your tiny turns
its a call for mummy

I can see you in the ultrasound
hip-hopping
sleepily knocking

Open up, let me out....

Wait tiny nose
hold that little pout

Wait a little more
you growing embryo
let the heartbeat steady
let the world be ready
for your tiny hands
and the promiss in them
for your closed eyes
and the light in them

Baby,
wait to give me life
as I wait
to give you birth.

-Mama to be