Yesterday morning I hit a wall. Not a real cement/brick/cheap wood panelling/rammed earth/straw bale/asbestos or corrugated iron wall, but an 'I'm exhausted/the kids are exhausted/pre Christmas pressure/it's raining AGAIN/the house is a mess/I've held it together for a long time and now the wheels are falling off' kind of wall.
After several birthdays, lots of community events, lots of driving, shopping, organising I woke up yesterday knowing that I was in charge of the gingerbread at Jam n Pickle day, I had a sick child and everyone was relying on me to bring all the ingredients for a community baking event that I had actually instigated. Ha ha, even writing that makes me laugh...
So, I woke up, it was POURING with rain and to be honest, all I wanted to do was to throw some breakfast at the children and crawl back into bed....for about 3 weeks...now I know a gingerbread making day is nothing major - it's not micro brain surgery or navigating a ship in turgid seas or giving birth - it's just $%#*@ing gingerbread and I normally LOVE making it - it was just that the jenga tower of circumstances (and probably hormones) had fallen.
So we sat inside and I pretended not to notice the minutes ticking by or the sky slowly clearing or my guilt exponentially growing until the phone rang, and my friend A, in all her calm and no-nonsenseness, snapped me out of it.
It's amazing how one minute you can feel physically incapable of moving and then with a simple decision made, all life flows back into dead limbs and you're up and at 'em.
And we had a good day!
After several birthdays, lots of community events, lots of driving, shopping, organising I woke up yesterday knowing that I was in charge of the gingerbread at Jam n Pickle day, I had a sick child and everyone was relying on me to bring all the ingredients for a community baking event that I had actually instigated. Ha ha, even writing that makes me laugh...
So, I woke up, it was POURING with rain and to be honest, all I wanted to do was to throw some breakfast at the children and crawl back into bed....for about 3 weeks...now I know a gingerbread making day is nothing major - it's not micro brain surgery or navigating a ship in turgid seas or giving birth - it's just $%#*@ing gingerbread and I normally LOVE making it - it was just that the jenga tower of circumstances (and probably hormones) had fallen.
So we sat inside and I pretended not to notice the minutes ticking by or the sky slowly clearing or my guilt exponentially growing until the phone rang, and my friend A, in all her calm and no-nonsenseness, snapped me out of it.
It's amazing how one minute you can feel physically incapable of moving and then with a simple decision made, all life flows back into dead limbs and you're up and at 'em.
And we had a good day!
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