School’s over and homework needs to be done. I’m busy in the kitchen whipping up a lasagne whilst listening to music on Jango and my six year incessantly asks how to spell words like “thrashing”, “claw”, “spiky”! He’s writing a story about a monster in a cave. I love his describing words and secretly watch him leaning on his arm, writing and talking to himself.
My 15 year is tasked with teaching the 8 year old how to multiply and divide by ten. His theory of teaching is to go straight for decimal points. She’s now spewing off 0.2 divided by ten is .002! I’m not needed anymore!
The 13 year old is hiding out somewhere avoiding homework time. I bet she’s on her phone playing Hay Day. Can’t have them all studious can I? Where would the balance be in that?
The smell of the lasagne wafts through the house and the sultry voice of Christina Perry croons in the background. A poem wiggles it’s way to the forefront of my mind. The legs and tail worm out, exposing a nice fat underbelly of expression and I listen as my thoughts match the words to the song playing. I hope the poem stays long long enough for me to jot it down.
Thoughts are interrupted by the 13 year old who drifts into the kitchen to update me on her day. Complaints of hunger fill the air and I resign myself back to Mummy mode.
Time is just a factor before I can return to my thoughts and creations. Until then, I wash a head of lettuce ready for salad.
What’s your Monday like?