Why, oh why, do I have reoccurring bouts of Mondayitis? It has been a grey, Winter weekend where it feels like nothing got done and the house is littered with empty Milo mugs and a trail of Hansel and Gretel crumbs.
Isn't it funny that when the kids were little I thought that our house wouldn't always be this messy, it would get better as they got older. Now, of course, I know that the messes just get bigger as they get bigger and instead of removing purloined millipedes and marbles from baby mouths I am confiscating torches from those reading well past bedtime. We have entered a new phase of parenting. I am a taxi driver. I am the mum that doesn't do what "everyone else's mum" does. I am also frequently the "bad cop" when it comes to policing food and viewing choices.
Sometimes it is hard to be the teacher turned parent. Dan told me, the other day, that I didn't have to "make everything a learning opportunity" and while I know he is right I still worry. Are we teaching them enough? Are we holding them too tight or giving them too much free reign?
These are the questions I turn to when I can't sleep.
It has been a funny kind of weekend. We moved a ton of wood. I fixed the wood heater (replacing two fire bricks and the top plate but not the baffle because that will only come out if we remove every single brick!) I made bread. We've been using the bread maker a lot lately but a loaf disappears in a single sitting. We ate minestrone for what seemed like days but in all fairness was probably only two dinners and one lunch. I made cheesy egg and bacon tarts for brunch - delish.
James tinkered with my computer trying to get the essentials moved across to my new desktop. We still have a way to go. I am yet to fall in love with a new operating system that seems totally unintuitive.
I finished a shawl from handspun and an ancient project for a Winter jumper.
I began pruning the roses (the ones closest the house that missed out last year and won't get frosted). It feels too early to be pruning. I know they say "prune in June" but James' plant-loving Aunt always said "except in the Hills" I did like my slow and methodical approach this year- just pottering along and clipping the bits into manageable pieces until the green bin was full. It felt like a more manageable way of gardening, to just do a couple of bushes at a time until I am done instead of that frantic, harried feeling of busting a gut one weekend in August and ending dishevelled, torn and covered in thorn scratches.
In the end, it wasn't so much the full bin as the thunderous, dark grey-blue clouds that drove me inside to light the fire. Despite their ominous threat they moved around us and we didn't get more than a spit or two.
I am toying with the idea of keeping a garden journal. An almanac of sorts, where I can observe that the Daphne is budding up nicely and the yellow rose is putting on a brave face and still offering up one lonely bud at a time despite the Winter chill. I had to remove two dead native plants from outside the kitchen window. It made me sad. The birds used to like to hide in them. I may go to the nursery this week and see if I can find something that blooms in Winter and attracts my little feathered friends.
Enough ramblings for now. I will be back soon with some crafty show and tell.
May your week be kind to you.