Week two (sort of)

It's hard to believe I've only been here two weeks.  I'm so preoccupied with the business of getting set up and oriented to Galway that I hardly have time to think of home.  The big news this week is that we've signed a lease on an apartment at the docks in Galway, with a fantabulous view of the harbor and Galway Bay.  

I spent a day or so researching local childcare options.  It seems that the going rate for childminders or babysitters is about 10 euro an hour, and creches (daycare centers, to us Americans) run about 5 euro an hour, meaning that going back to regular paid employment would cost me about as much as I'd be likely to earn, assuming I could even find care.  So it looks like I'm going to be taking care of Nova full time for most of her first year of life.  I'm happy with that, but it's awfully strange not to be out there trying to earn money.  I don't like the loss of independence, but on the up side I should be able to spend at least some time on my writing.

Meanwhile, Nova has learned to roll over front to back and seems to be enjoying life most of the time.  She's plumping out, too, getting rolls of fat on her thighs and a broader face. She eats often, every two or three hours in the day, practically every hour in the evenings, and sometimes once or twice in the middle of the night.  I do enjoy talking -- vocalizing, anyway -- with her, but lately I've noticed my language skills descending into babytalk, and I think I need a little more intellectual stimulation.  

Speaking of language, what is it about motherhood that makes women refer to themselves in the third person.  I find myself saying cracked up things like, "Mommy will be right there!" and I hear Nova's Irish grandmother referring to herself as "Granny" all the time.  Why can't we talk sensibly around babies?  

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