Holiday at home: Days three and four

On Thursday Rob's parents came; Farmor and Dandad were greeted with bouncing and glee, and then Linnea stared at the television for some considerable time. We had dinner and went for a walk along the river, and the children were delighted and everyone had a good time.

It's nice when that happens.

On Friday (today) we had a picnic lunch in the community garden, and met Mirra, Loolee and Beebee (Maria, Louis, and Pheobe) afterwards for much playing. Linnea washed the plastic car with the showerhead hose (bad environmentalist, no biscuit) and I skimmed the pond for weed and tadpoles, and also found at least two baby newts.

Rob and I also revisited the tango, the cha-cha, and the quickstep. We need lessons if we're going to do that again. Linnea's second dance class will be tomorrow lunchtime.

With any luck my mother is on a long-distance bus from Cork now and will arrive at our front door about 7am.

Perhaps it's PMS

I'm feeling attacked and whiny today, and it's not your fault. Between breastfeeding education and home educating and stay at home mothering and not driving a car and ethical consumerism and the whole huge rape and consent thing, not to mention trying to make decisions on choosing, revising and sending pomes to be published, I'm feeling stretched very thin. No-one has directly, indirectly, or inadvertently threatened me about the poetry yet, at least, and if I never send them to anyone, no-one can reject me, so that's ok.

Er, wait.

Perhaps I should go to bed.