Monday, 18th May
I cleaned the toilet brush... This will only make sense if you have seen my previous post. Anyway, moving on.
Every day it strikes me I need to do something about the fact my daughter looks as though she's been raised by wolves. It's not her fault. It's not just the haircut... fringe zigzagging down in a wonky way, too long at the back... She didn't choose that. It's also the lack of combing and the knots forming again at the back. Neither of these are her fault. They are both a visual reminder of my failure as a parent.
I sat in the garden this morning and looked at Grace, whirling and scooting and having fun. It should've brought a smile to my face. But instead I thought I must brush her hair. It has gone beyond a problem. And then why, oh why, did she have to pull all the clothes out of her 2-4 year-old clothes bag?That ensemble is quite frankly... well, it's a good job nobody is seeing us, is all I can say.
And I realise it's depressing, somehow. It gets to 10am and sometimes I haven't showered, or I'm in jogging bottoms, again. Isaac's in his pyjama top. Everyone is watching too much TV, or ipad, and another day has arrived where I haven't brushed my daughter's hair. Another intention is made to brush it tonight, when Grace is asleep. I realise that the cracks are starting to show in my lack of motivation, for all to see. Well, for the limited number of people out and about during Covid.
But, to be honest, it's hard to do the simplest of things right now and I know I'm not the only one to feel it. Are there days when there's just something in the air? I think today has been one. Even Diane in Denmark, always upbeat, mentioned this in her youtube vid this morning.
For me, today has been the kind of day where you wash your hands and see the hand towel in a heap on the floor, soaked, in the corner, and it's only your first activity of the day. It's been the kind of day where you try to wash the bottom of the olive oil and it slips into the washing-up bowl and you remove it, to see the oil separating into three layers: water, oil, soap bubbles. A day where you wake up late and miss your solitary walk and it doesn't get better from there, even when you do the later bike ride to compensate. A day were the high point is actually the arrival of new rubber gloves. The kind of day where the kids squabble and shout and scream and you shout back and nobody is any the happier.
In short, today has been the kind of day where you have absolutely nothing of substance to complain about, but you keep wanting it to get better, so you try and do things to cheer yourself up. You stuff marshmallow flumps into your mouth but they don't hit the spot because they're not chocolate. You feel excited when you find a 5-minute-Kindle-reading-window and open it, to see the battery is dead. Anyone else having that kind of day?
I feel it's important, given my blog is called 'Han the Homemaker' to be honest about my homemaking reality and its inherent frustrations. Being Martha Stewart about things would help nobody here. A problem shared, is a problem halved, they say. So I'm sharing mine, in the hope that it gives you permission to feel utterly wretched about all the small things that go wrong and push you to breaking point, in your own homemaking attempts, which you feel guilty for complaining about. Hope that's given you a boost.
See you next time.