I don’t know whether that phrase popped up on my newsfeed, or whether someone said it to me, but it’s true. I’m pretty sure that most people respond with some form of “Oh, you know, busy” when asked how they are. Busy is expected, acceptable, good.
I was thinking about this tonight when looking at our weekly commitments from September, armed with a piece of A3, divided into the days of the week, and some post-its (I’m totally a 20th century sort of lass, this blog’s a late evolution of a now-full beloved yellow notebook).
I ended up with pink bits of paper everywhere and in a right lather about it.
I want to make sure that we can make some of our local home ed meets. We’ve been going for the past year and met some inspiring people and done some fun things.
I want to give Ro the chance to be away from us. She loves that, gets so buzzy about telling us about what she’s done (in many ways she’d love school, but that’s a whole other post).
I don’t want H to be forgotten in all this. I want her to have time to hang out with some littlies, develop her own peer group, have chance to be a toddler.
And we need to make sure we have time to see friends, that we can start the swimming classes Ro’s asked for, that I get some time to work, that there’s plenty of time for playing.
It’s too much. Too busy. How’s it going to work? When do we get to stop and notice the flowers turning to blackberries, press our noses to the paving to watch the ants – real up close and personal – like we did today?
And then I had some chocolate orange and felt calmer. We’re feeling our way at this. Doubtless we’ll get things wrong, but there’s no blueprint. Ro and H are navigating the world in their own ways. They just need time and space to do that.
And hell’s bells, our girls are good at telling us what’s good for them and what isn’t. We’ll work it out together.