I had a bit of a moment last week. Tilly, at bedtime one night, looked me in the eye and said, this family is so busy. Always busy. We never do anything together. Nothing fun. You say we're going on a family adventure then we go to the Co-op.
I dare say she's right.
A little part of me gets riled up when people keep ranting against busy. Slow down, simplify, declutter, chill out. People enthusiatically post links all over Facebook about the evilness of glorifying busy. Yeah fine, I get it. There's no glory in it. I'm not proud of our schedule. But with three small children and a business and a farm and a farmer's market committee and doggedly cooking all our food from scratch, I'd be lying if I said I was taking it easy. Enjoying a slow day. Sorting out my cupboards.
However, if you get feedback like that from your middle child, I think you'd be foolish not to listen. And change something. Because this particular middle child is a strong and sensitive minded small person. At some point she'll give up talking to me if I don't pay attention.
And so we're going to have a go at quarantining Sundays. Hang out together. Have a roast at lunchtime. Go for an afternoon picnic. With cake.
We started yesterday. And it was lovely. I bought cake, very unusual for me but I drew the line at baking something delicious that I wasn't even planning to try. We drove to Kangaroo Valley and skipped stones under the bridge and paddled and nibbled and played.
I'm grateful to her for the push, because I think without it we might find ourselves adrift later on. Besides, they're some of my favourite people to hang out with. Particularly that middle one who doesn't love the Co-op and thinks she can skip a 2kg stone across the river.
And the dude who can skip just about anything. Favourite.