a thousand blue fish

It's late and my thoughts might come out a bit smooshed, but I have to get into the practice of doing this again. Today was hard.  This week was hard. I started work after a seriously short holiday, with longing in my heart to stay home with Oliver.  My heart breaks for the mothers who have to work, I know there are those you want to, but there are many more who have to. My heart breaks for myself.  At this stage we have no idea what to do with our precious youngest child.  At 14 months he is getting too big and busy to still come to work with me and we cannot afford to put him into a playschool.  I am very grateful that he is able to be with Emiel. It works, for now, kinda.     Beatrice started big school this week.  It has been exhausting, even trying to type this is exhausting. She uses so much energy trying to be good, trying to listen, trying to concentrate, trying to sit still that the minute steps out of the school building she lets go.  I am finding it harder to deal

I have spent months thinking about revisiting blogging.  Each time the need to express myself arises it is quashed by the fear of grammar or spelling errors, or mistyping things, which happens so easily when you are typing faster than your brain is working.  Or making supper takes priority.  Or homework needs to be done.  Or work needs to be completed.  Or I am just so tired from my day and life that I can't string a sentence together let alone allow my thought the freedom to roam. Enough. I need this. Most of the time there is a bit too much life. I need to write, to express, to share. That is all, for now. Peace be with you Philippa