I always thought of distraction as a negative thing, but it isn’t today. Today, looking through other people’s pretty books* and taking photos of their pretty work is doing a rather wonderful job keeping my mind off the fact that the second house we have tried to buy in as many months has been as unsuccessful as the first.
* Living Colour, by Paula Pryke.
Thanks, Megan. It was a good birthday and birthday weekend. As Bea said, “The birthday-est birthday you’ve ever had!” — at least in recent times. I just did what I wanted and I didn’t do what I didn’t want. Within reason, you know. And that was a big treat.
Sending the best of wishes (and I have some very good ones) to you – what they lack in timing, they make up for in sincerity. Also, a little memento I thought you might like from my weekend. Cheers.
It is good to have kids to remind you that you should be excited to celebrate your birthday. It isn’t that I am unhappy about getting older. I haven’t had that feeling yet – on my birthday or any day. It just feels like another day – you know? A day to clean the bathtubs out, a day to have a cup of tea, a day to wonder what I should make for supper… But I opened my lovely gifts with an admiring and go-cited audience this morning, we played a pin-the-tail on the donkey game she made and we have plans for a fire this evening. Speaking of good enough – that is more than good enough for me.
…because we don’t have the right teeth to get into these things. Pecans are wonderful and I love to eat them but it is just impossible to get the nuts out with any grace at all. Every fall I have the urge to try to shell a few and every fall I am quickly reminded how silly that urge is.
Another beach day today. A lot colder, and the tide was out, which was even better for exploring. Nathan thinks he saw some fossilised fern in the rock, Iona was pretty sure there were some Therapod bones hiding in there somewhere.
Do they let me re-live my childhood? It’s not a question I’ve ever really asked myself. In some ways, I suppose they do, but thinking of it that way makes me feel sad, a little desolate. It’s not until I became a mother that I realised the extent of what I had missed.
What I think they do, however, is give me the courage to grow up. And yes, re-think, re-learn. And realise I have few, if any, good answers.
I am a little mixed up. Hardeharhar.
We just got home from a walk to the park. Bea wanted to “interact with kids.” She found a nice boy to play with and they had fun. She asked his mom for his address so she could go to his house and then wanted to know if he could come to her birthday party.
And how exactly should I respond? That we have to get to know people more before going to their house, etc. etc.? Why is it that making new friends should take longer than an hour?
When ”they” say that having kids let you be a kid again I thought that meant I would just get an excuse to go sledding and build blanket forts. I didn’t know it meant I would have to re-think everything… relearn everything…
I’m sitting on my settee, listening to the sounds of my pizza sauce bubbling furiously away in the kitchen behind me. We have a few visitors tomorrow and I am preparing myself. An unfamiliar concept.
None of which has anything to do with the flower on my pot plant. It looks like a leaf gone wrong, and a plastic one at that.
Bea made designs. I sorted colors – a challenging collection of whites, creams, and tans. We were both in our element.
Messy. Quite colourful. Hopelessly disorganised.
