The cat flap, the sunshine and the spaghetti hoops

SURPRISE!

Did you think I'd forgotten about this blog? That's it, you thought, Mugridge has stopped writing, she's too busy growing vegetables now, she probably runs some sort of courgette farm and spends all day rubbing her hands together with glee that she's managed to turn her allotment into a thriving, profitable business. She's such an entrepreneur.

Nope. The only things on our allotment at the moment are a) weeds and b) a bit of unplanned lawn and c) Potatoes. There are always potatoes. Whether we planted them or not.

There has been such a large gap between my last post and now because of many reasons. I've been making shows, I've been getting new carpets. I've been raising a tiny human. That last one is probably the most time consuming. To be honest, getting new carpets was quite a quick process and the fact that I was out when it happened so my husband had to singlehandedly move all our furniture out of all our rooms meant that for me, it went very smoothly.

The tiny human is now 19 months old and the only thing I can compare this to is living with a miniature drunk clown. Sometimes unreasonable, often loud, often found hiding behind a curtain, often laughing at nothing for no reason and sometimes being sick on public transport with no warning. (I went to pick up my coat from the dry cleaners yesterday and was told that 'it needs another go.')

I had a *gulp* moment yesterday when I prepared my son's lunchbox for the first time. He has just started going to a childminder for 2 days a week and I found myself feeling overwhelmed by the step that seems to indicate. I have been feeding him for 19 months, don't worry, sometimes I even give him wholewheat, artisan fancy stuff and not just spaghetti hoops, but there was something about placing a day full of snacks into a little box that suddenly made me aware of him being a proper grown up person, not just this tiny shouty bald dinosaur creature who lives in our house.

Creatively, he makes me feel alive. I hate parenting cliches and I would never claim that 'I am mother, hear me roar' but his uninhibited, brave and bold presence brings an element of unpredictable, creative spark into life. Sometimes he just laughs at shoes.  I can learn a lot from this level of joy. I think we can all learn a lot from someone who can play with a whisk for 15 minutes and spends the first half of every morning posting fridge magnets, clean washing and rice cakes through a cat flap.

His arrival in particular has inspired me in my work and am just beginning the process of making a new show in collaboration with my incredible midwife, who 'caught' him when he was born and with whom I am now close friends. I am also working with a consultant obstetrician, a neuroscientist and some amazing theatre maker colleagues to look at the medical and the magical, how our bodies can do proper amazing things and how were are slowly being encouraged to look at ourselves as robots and not messy, natural beings that we should trust in.

I am premiering the show in January 2015 and am extremely excited to get going on it. As part of the research I am attending a Midwifery Conference in May and am hoping more than anything that I don't pass out at any point in the week. I am not ready for the shame of lying unconscious in a plushly carpeted room with lots of medical professionals whispering 'she's not one of us' while I have to put my head between my legs and eat a satsuma.

The inspiration to start writing this again has been the combination of the little dude not being around for 2 days a week and the springtime. I'm back in my little spot by the window again, looking out onto our wasteground of a garden and feeling grateful for the time and space to write. It's not been impossible to work with a baby, not at all, but it is more relaxing without someone trying to crawl up your leg or rubbing peanut butter sandwiches into your trousers. Or, lately, inexplicably shouting 'ABBA' into your face, over and over again.

So here's to 2014. Writing and making and beaming oh my.