Friday, March 9, 2012

Made it!

There was movement in the bedroom,So I told them to get out,
For I needed to lie down and have a rest.
Then another joined me there, then another joined the pair
Till the whole idea of resting was all messed!
Then a fifth one was entreated, (till in fear he soon retreated)
And she danced with gay abandon with his head.
Like a dervish in a blender,
She went on a toddler bender,
Till as Hobbit on the bedpost she'd self-bed.

I have been feeling a little frustrated at the lack of time for making things since going back to work. Frankly, today I was just happy to make 'it' at all. This week we had 5 a.m. starts and 10 p.m. returns to home, a swimming carnival, school photos for all, evening concerts, a bed ridden Dad and a Mum at work. I
fell asleep writing a post for the first time ever and wore a ribbon for International Women's Day. That was all!

13 comments:

  1. Oh gracious me! This working inside and out is a lot for any mum. Still, you find the time to write poetry.

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    Replies
    1. That was more of a gush of delirium late at night!

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  2. Working and a house full of kids ... you know I've been there before you. You'll muddle through, promise, so enjoy the chaos, one day they will all be moving out and you'll miss it, unlikely though that probably sounds right now x

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    1. Chaos doesn't worry me (although it gives the Big Fella a nasty twitch) but the time limitations and tiredness are tiresome!

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  3. Isn't it frustrating when work interferes with blogging? At least the kids had the good sense to inspire some poetic blog fodder. And every time I see one of your vinaigrettes I have a good chuckle. Melx

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    Replies
    1. Inspired blog fodder or overtired flog blodder?!

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  4. Keep up the strumming , Banjo.

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  5. All that and great toe nails!

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    Replies
    1. Those are courtesy of Lala so she would let me do my Soduko.

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    2. How good are these reply buttons?!

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  6. I know, no energy or enthusiasm for much after early starts and work. My sewing machine is collecting dust. x

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  7. Oh Annie. What is happening to us? I only wish I could be as poetic!

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