Adaptability

Life isn’t what happens to you, it’s how you respond to what happens to you. So said my wise entrepreneurial friend, and so say I. The key to happiness is the ability to adapt to your conditions.

I pride myself on my ability to adapt, whether it be to the supreme sacrifice of moving to Malibu to be with TLOML, or the grand experiment of our spell in Manhattan. TLOML has had a harder challenge, moving to London in the wettest summer ever and unable to leave the country. But he’s adapted well too (albeit with the odd shaking of his fist and shouting ‘this country!’). As soon as he’s identified his local coffee place, and a purveyor of quality meat, he’s happy. For me, once I’ve established a storage system in a place, I consider myself at home. And that never takes long.

Likewise Jack. He’s adapted very well, being moved from my old flat into a new, bigger one with my activist friend. And then moving back into Fox Corner, and getting to know TLOML. Once he knows where his food bowl is, he’s happy. He also likes it when you put something flat (like a newspaper) on the floor so he can sit on it. He like to be able to go where he likes, when he likes. And that includes jumping on the bed at any time of night he wants some attention.

Jack, happily sleeping on a bag.

Now everyone is telling us how dramatically our life is going to change when the baby comes. Apparently we will be sleep deprived monsters, snapping at each other, unable to string a sentence together and with no more time for long, relaxed dinners. Our cosy, coupley life will be altered beyond recognition.

Well, call me naïve, but I’m remaining positive. So long as my storage system remains intact (and no-one puts the blankets on the swaddle clothes pile), I’ll be okay. And so long as TLOML can still walk about and get his nice coffee from Euphorium (even if he has to do so wearing a baby in a sling), I think he'll be happy.

The question remains about how Jack will cope. He’s rolled with the punches so far, but this baby is going to change everything for him. No more unsupervised access to our bedroom. And we’re imposing a new zero tolerance for being woken up. I fear for him: his cat equilibrium is about to be rather upset. I wonder if it will be enough if we just keep leaving newspapers, empty bags, and such like around for him to sleep on.