Work and solitude: when you are a mother they both come at a price.
This morning I finally was so sick of waiting until I feel better to plant the tomatoes that I just went out and did it anyway and after fifteen minutes of diggling holes, mulching and raking in the morning sunshine I actually felt considerably better. Morning sickness is an indoor illness.
Anyway, to divert the girls this morning I filled the kiddie pool. (that big blue plastic thing my husband finds so offensive.) As I happily worked in the morning sun, I could hear the happy squeals of the girls on the front porch. However I found that the price of a mornings uninterrupted work in the garden is a kiddie pool full of three blueberry muffins, one soggy bank statment and all the contents of the pot drawer in the kitchen. At first I wanted to blow up, but after a few proclamations of frustration (hey, we're working on the holiness thing, okay?) I finally realized it could have been much worse. It could have been ALL the blueberry muffins--So I sat down to chomp down on the rest of them on a plate nearby. (ahh, pregnancy!) and considered it a fair trade.
The price of solitude is much simpler. One birthday party for the four year old to attend, a nap for the toddler, and a sink of dirty dishes. Not too shabby.
In other news. We are currently living out of our bedroom, our kitchen and a cluttered dining room. The floors in the studio and the living room are getting redone. We stared out just to do the studio so Ben could paint in there. (He found a model for the end of the summer.) But it just ended up being the most economical to do both rooms. So, at night I dream of hardwood floors. (I'm not even going to say how nasty the carpets were when we pulled them up. . . . )