Do you remember those essays we were obliged to write when we returned to school after the summer holidays? I’m feeling a bit like that now, rambling from thought to thought and wondering what I’ve been doing. I’ve not much to show for what I’ve been doing, because most of it has been necessary domestica.
I’ve been away from work for nearly six weeks and just the thought of returning there tomorrow is utterly depressing. However, what’s equally as depressing in its own way is the fact that, for all those weeks of not working, I’ve achieved very little of what I’d hoped to achieve during that long holiday. Apart from the obvious busyness associated with Christmas festivities, there have been other good reasons for my lack of achievement.
Dr B has been running hither and thither in the cause of frail, aged parents (unexpected problems with Nonna’s respite care and a change of GP, unexpected, major surgery for Nonno) so I’ve had to pick up most of the slack in what are meant to be his parts of the domestic gig. Of course my part of the domestic gig kept going so the extra workload meant no sewing, no knitting, no crochet – or at least, not very much of any of those things and none of the serious stuff (read larger scale; I admit that I did make a few lavender bags).
Yesterday marked the first rowing regatta for the second half of the season – Boy brought home a lovely medal, but he was grumpy about it as his crew won by default because it was the only crew in the race not rowing by invitation! – and the beginning of our last hurrah as rowing parents. This is Boy’s last gasp with school rowing, which will culminate in the Schools’ Head of the River Regatta. He’ll have duties beyond that with exchange visits and the like, but the end is in sight. He won’t do as much club rowing this year because he’s in his final year at high school and needs to be dedicated about his academic work. That’s a given. Club rowing, when it recommences for him, won’t require as much input from us. Club rowers do their own fundraising.
I must have a notion that Middle Niece will have a dreadfully cold neck while she’s studying in Germany, because I’ve begun crocheting her a little, twirly scarf as part of her going-away gift. It’s not at all serious and it’s a quick make, so I should finish it today. That means that I’ll get to the end of the holiday with one tangible piece of handcraft and perhaps – it’s a big perhaps – a blouse for myself, if I can make it today. The weather is being disagreeable so laundry has to be hung inside to dry, which always takes longer though I don’t know why it should.
In any case, holidays aren’t about rest and relaxation, are they? I have had some rest simply by virtue of not being at work and I have relaxed in like manner. But spend days at a stretch doing nothing very much? Or achieve something I’d like to do? No, those things haven’t happened. (I wasn’t able to finish a jigsaw puzzle, for example, because it had to be packed away to make room for something else to happen.)
For some reason I can’t fathom, but don’t question, it seems to have occurred to Boy that I could actually make some clothes for him other than boxers (he’d forgotten the pyjama tops and school track trousers I’d made for him in the past; he’d worn them proudly but then reached a point where if Mum made it, it wasn’t trendy). Could I possibly make him a sweatshirt-style top? Could I ever! I’m happy. We agreed on a trial one that he’d definitely wear at home and, if that’s the goods, we’ll shop for the fabric he wants. Given such incentive, I’ll make time for sewing, no matter what else is neglected. I bet nobody will notice the difference. 🙂
In any case, I’m not complaining. One night Dr B was curled up on one lounge with a book (forcing himself to read edifying literature), Boy was on the other couch with his fantasy/sci-fi novel (a great deal less worthy but much better for his creative spirit) and I was on the floor doing that jigsaw puzzle I mentioned. Boy remarked how nice it was that we were all there, just in the same space and having a good time. He was right. It’s something we rarely do because we are often so busy with sporting, school and work commitments.
So, yes, no matter that there were no tropical islands and being waited on hand and foot, that evening alone made the whole holiday a good holiday. That’s my random report. What did you do during your holidays?