I'm back! And now the mother of three boys. The Tiny One is here, 1.5mths old, and I think we are all beginning to feel a little more settled as he knits himself into the family.
We have good days and bad. The good days are running at about 2:1, and I reckon that's a pretty good score with such a little one.
The good days include getting some domestic tasks completed, because those repetitive tasks each offer a suffusion of success when done, and I cannot get through a day cheerfully without chalking up at least one sensation of success. They include lovely times with one, some, or all the boys, and that perfect selfish-unselfish feeling that comes from being a good mother (give to them, feel chuffed with yourself). They may also, if very lucky, include some achievements that are not the banal domestic (washing up, ironing, etc), but that transcend into domesticity. I have, for example, managed a session of baking, to sew on a button and sew up a slipper, and to paint a large decoration for our window's contribution to 'May Queen'. Those days are the best - a little glimmer of what life will be like when the Tiny One fully settles down, learns how to go to sleep and stay asleep (surprisingly, not a natural instinct), and we can all get on with living rather than fire-fighting.
The bad days usually involve some of my tears, and a lot from the Little One and the Tiny One. The Big One often adds his own contribution, as he tumbles down the hill of childhood into the canyon of adolescence. It wasn't planned this way, but I have managed to have three boys heading into teenage monstrosity (13 this year), toddler tantrums (2 this year), and a newborn all together. What a year it will be! And while the newborn is still so young, and I have had to rewind my life yet again into life with a baby - when I feel disorganised, lost and useless on those bad days - the sense of comfort from where I began this blogging adventure has gone to hide until better times.
Still, the good days win out 2:1!
PS As this blog is called 'a touch of domesticity', and I got carried away with the metaphor and chose to announce the Tiny One's birth with a shot of his hand, I thought I had better give the others a look in. A brief moment of stillness from the Little One (he is always on the go) to the left, and to the right my domestic protege (how do you write French accents on a blog?), the Big One. He has taken it upon himself to make orange and ginger tea. Sometimes I don't notice enough how lovely he is.