Thursday night and the rain is gently falling which in itself is rather odd, cause it really shouldn’t rain in Darwin in May. Someone forgot to tell the weather that though.
I’ve had a busy few days. Worked a couple of times, examined book proofs, caught up on Grey’s Anatomy, and washed far too many dishes. I’ve also been slowly, slowly, slowly, getting through this week’s IBOT post’s. Slowly because of the afore mentioned business, but also because I am living. Just enjoying my life and letting go of the pressure to blog or read blogs in every waking moment.
I wasn’t even going to write for today; not unless the inspiration jumped up and grabbed me by the throat. Which of course it did, coming from getting through those Tuesday Blogs.
Habe you met Becky from Birdy Num Num? I had the lovely pleasure of meeting her in the flesh this year, and she is one gorgeous lady. I love that Tuesday’s force me to visit her blog, which is something I really should be doing more often. So this week, in her post, she asked what you would do, if you had an entire year off. Just to do whatever.
It’s kind of a tough question! Ask me if I want a day to myself and I will say yes with great enthusiasm, and plan every last second of it to get the most out of my time. And I could make that day last! No kids, no husband and none of my ‘normal’ responsibilities for a day, and I could probably conquer the world.
But a whole year?
Not sure I could do it.
In the comment section of her blog, I asked the question, ‘is the year off from kids too?’ I’m thinking that it wouldn’t really count as a year off, if you were still responsible for all your offspring. Ask any mother you like; having kids is not time off! The discussion came up at work as to whether a colleague, who is a bit over the whole paid employment thing (as we all get eventually; be so much nicer to get money for free :)), should have a baby. Then we all agreed that would be a lot more work than anything Liquor Land throws at her.
Let’s face it; I go to work, to have a break!
Not that I don’t love my kids; I really do. And just recently, I’m remembering again, just how much I love them.
This shouldn’t come as a surprise to me. Between the four of them I have endured 71 hours of labour, 53 months of breastfeeding, 12 weeks of bed rest, on average 3 650 loads of washing (a conservative estimate), and more stressful days than I have ever had in any job, and yet I don’t hold any of it against them.
That there, is the definition of love.
Instead, I just want more and more of them. At the moment, I can not get enough. The thought of a day without them? Yes doable, but only so long as I can squeeze them all when I get home.
A year childless? Nothing in the world would be worth that.
Not one thing.
So when asking what I would do with a year off paid employment? Nothing different at all. I’d still do the school and ballet runs, and teach Auskick. I’d attend the sports carnival’s and play little people. Read Cheer Chick Charlie with my almost seven year old, and watch you tube clips to see how awesome cheering really is.
And I’d have cuddles. Ooodles and oodles of snuggles on the couch.
Is there anything better than that?