Another memory that I have is trying to cut an apple for myself. I recall cutting my hand, possibly my finger. And wiping the blood in the towel. I write this because I don’t want to forget. I’m seeing g people around me forget and now it’s too late to ask them. So I must try to remember.
(păn·dǝ·mɒ·mi·ɘm) A(nother) blog on motherhood. Why?!? Because I don't have time to write in a journal while juggling a four-month-old. And I'd like to document my foray into motherhood, along with my career in all of its triumphs and missteps, and of course, the perilous path back to the office when the breeding shop is closed...
Wednesday, February 21, 2024
Memories
My earliest memory is of me waking up the stairs and saying I’m ready for my nap now. If I was still having naps I couldn’t have been more than three. I remember looking through the stringers on the steps and seeing our kitchen in our suburban house in pickering. Our kitchen Was 1970s mustard and brown, not to be confused with our downstairs powder room, which was 1970s green.
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