It’s hard to find a quiet moment when you share life with three others and they happen to be kids (actually there’s one oversized one but I won’t say who, but you know who I’m referring to). It used to be that Sunday is the Sabbath of quiet lazy afternoons, just staring at the TV. Love it–no need to think, no need to talk, no need to expend energy–just gawking and guffawing over nothingness. I feel wasted, but hey, I can use a little indulgence.
But not anymore–these days, weekends are beehives of activities. One kid needs to go to the community pool to hang out with friends(or any possible permutations of fun) and another is counting on you to dispel her boredom. NO, she won’t read. And oh, I’ve seen this programme hundreds of times. No, I don’t have homework and BTW, I can’t find friends to hang out with, so could you please entertain me? Ok, maybe, not in those exact words but the constant whiny refrain, “I’m so bored” is jabbing at my nerves and so, I give in.
I get off the couch and try to be motherly i.e. sacrifice your time and your life and your needs–kids first and yes, yourself? Later, maybe, if there’s time.
If there’s time–if there are forty-eight hours in a day only twelve are taken up with the neccessity of livng, then maybe, there is leftovers. By the time I’m done with the agreed activity for the day, I don’t even have the energy to crawl back into my couch. even if Jamie Oliver beckons with his cute British accent.