Here’s what I like about being home:
Seeing the children
Bea singing along to Mika as she falls asleep
Olivia telling me she’s going to vote for Segolene Royal “because she’s a girl, do you want me to vote for a boy?”
Telling Leo we can’t buy Batman sweets because if you eat rubbish like that you end up spotty and fat and him saying “ssshhhh. Batman’s in the sky, he can hear you”.
Covering the children with millions of kisses and hugs. I think they’re longing for me to go away again
Reading The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe to the children and remembering how excited I felt the first time I read about Lucy going through the wardrobe
Driving on a straight road without other cars meeting me head-on
Hugging the children
Sleeping in my own bed
Not being woken up by the cockrel.
What I don’t like about being home:
The pile of laundry soon to be turned into a pile of ironing
The pile of post (apart from a parcel from Aromatherapy Associates with lovely-smelling goodies)
Not being able to write all day without any admin/washing up/shopping/cooking/other work/plumbers to find/children to encourage not to fight/school runs and so on
The cold weather
The fact that my swallows have left the garage as the house-sitter shut the door without realising they were there
The lack of staff. In fact now I am the staff. Bummer.
Copyright: Helena Frith Powell 2007
I think you mean ‘cockerel’. Word reaches me that the bird in question is now a drumstick. Jerked, no doubt.
I too am evaluating home as a concept. That children and husband are involved is a given but also given is that we are caught in a location, location dilemna. Very happy with our winter, term time base but also with our Herault, head space place.