Apr. 27th, 2015

chalcedony_cat: fan from the v&a (Default)
The weekends are such a mixed blessing; uninterrupted time to spend with my offspring is both lovely and exhausting. Also, I am not sleeping well in the nights, and so I ended up napping much of Saturday afternoon and then sleeping late on Sunday, in both times leaving children in care of in-house partner. My partner is willing and able -- after all, they are his children too, he likes to be with them, he works all week until past their very early bedtimes so only sees them in the mornings -- but it is still somewhat unsatisfying when the weekend ends up being a series of trade-offs of solo parenting rather than solid time spent together as a family.

Still, needs must. Along with sleep, the four of us attended an event for the school Joy will be at next year, put away a lot of laundry, and cleaned Joy's room to about 3/4 completion. My friend T., uncle-by-fiat to the children, came over as he often does on the weekends and they were delighted to see him, and in the evening we (myself, partner, housemate, T., neighbour M.) had our weekly anime night, which was lovely.

Sunday morning Joy wanted to hear 'that book about the girl who couldn't be in the circus anymore' which I eventually discerned was Noel Streatfeild's Tennis Shoes -- not my favourite of the books, but it was nearby a week or two ago and so we started it. I suggested that we might try something she'd find more interesting instead, and ended up reading the first chapter of Marian Cockrell's Shadow Castle which was a favourite of mine in elementary school. It may require mild bowlderisation, as it is from 1945 and it shows, but the first chapter went over well despite being almost all description of travel. I was delighted when later on she drew a picture of Lucy and Flumpdoria finding the castle, with our family standing by watching. Joy's first fanart!

Note to self: if feeling so tired that vision blurs, wash glasses. Causality may well be reversed, clean glasses leading to clear vision leading to realisation one is not so tired after all. Still, I think fiction writing may be out of reach today; I will read The New Yorker and take another stab at this Carrington biography instead.


chalcedony_cat: fan from the v&a (Default)

June 2015

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