Mothering. Some days, it's really, really hard.
I feel sometimes Like I might come across in this blog like life is all fairies and crafts and singing and sewing. And well, sometimes it is. Some days everything works oh so magically well. The children are happy, they play quietly with puzzles and crafts, nap for three hours, eat their whole lunch, say Thank You and Please and May I and my personal favorite "Yes, Mommy." And these days I can linger in the studio, possibly sewing a hem or two, cutting a pattern or stalking the internet for cute stuff I wanna make, all the while working alongside two very busy, happy babies whom I love oh so dearly.
And some days life is not like that at all. Some days it looks more like this:
There are days like this when the dirty laundry will not move from it's spot in the middle of the hall and the breakfast dishes get done in four hours of 30 second increments and there are toys strewn across every floor of every room - including the bathroom behind the toilet, which reminds me it's time to clean the damn bathroom again. There are days like this when sitting down to write an email is met by two intensely dramatic children who need my attention RIGHT NOW for their magic trick/teeny tiny BUT HORRIBLY PAINFUL ow-ie/insatiable hunger.
There are days like this when Charlie may be the one wailing in this picture, but behind the camera I'm pretty much doing the same thing.
At the end of days like this I flop on the couch in a pile of mush, look around at all the mayhem that didn't sort itself out and sigh heavily into a cup of tea, barely able to hold knitting needles in my tired, worn out hands.
So, even thought I'd like to sit down and type out my blog post about how me and my kids were crafting all day with the fairies all the while having a sing a long, I instead will leave you with my grocery list, hoping that it will magically appear at my door tomorrow morning, since we are out of all three.
COFFEE
MILK
CAT FOOD.
And just so you don't think I simply snap photos of my crying children, instead of soothing them, here is Charlie only seconds after the first picture. (He can be fairly dramatic, like his mother.)
