Weeks ago, when Steve started planning this past weekend's summertime adventure for the kids, we knew right away that it made the most sense for me to stay home. The farm, as it is at this very moment, is quite high maintenance in its needs. There are some electric fencing troubles that we've been having, the meat birds are at their peak - meaning they need watering and feeding and moving so as not to destroy the ground they're on several times a day, and well, there's just a whole mess of other things. Besides, with all the shuffling about of kids to camps and other summer adventures, and all the time I've been spending in the garden, I was feeling a bit behind on the work I needed to get done. Three days alone would be a perfect chance to play a bit of catch up.
Like any Mama with the promise of time alone, I fantasized for a good long while about how the weekend would go. I imagined I would efficiently crank out all of my work, and then get to what I perceived to be the real pleasure of the time alone. I thought about leisurely hammock-sits with a poetry book. I thought I'd bring my spinning wheel out into the garden and spin. I planned to sleep in. And eat ice cream...in bed. I even thought about watching a movie - in the middle of the day. Oh, the wild and crazy ideas of a mom left to her own devices!
I told a friend that I'd be home alone for the weekend and she laughed at me. "Amanda. Your idea of alone is most people's idea of a zoo!" And well, she's right. For when I say 'home alone" what I really meant was home with...a mother-in-law, ten sheep, approximately eighty chickens, four ducks, two goats, two pigs, two cats, three newly acquired kittens (oh yes), and what I think can still be fairly classified as a (giant) puppy. So, yeah. Not exactly alone. And perhaps not very leisurely at all.
I never did exactly have a sit with poetry in the hammock. And never did touch that spinning wheel. I fell asleep at 8pm watching a movie in bed before I could even remember to go get the ice cream, and my body - forever changed by children - woke up at 6am on the dot, ready to start the day.
Instead of all that, I cleaned the entire game cabinet in the library and sorted all the missing parts and pieces into where they belong. I spent an entire afternoon pulling thistle from the back pasture. I got on my hands and knees and scrubbed the hearth and every square inch of the woodstove. I washed every floor in this house. I cleaned my closet. I fussed over a vase full of garlic scapes and queen anne's lace for a good twenty minutes until it was just precisely arranged how I wanted it to be. I lingered with the sheep at chore time.
Glamorous, isn't it? But you know what? It felt soooo good. Because all the while...my thoughts were my very own. And turns out, that's what I needed. To move at my own pace, to think, to get some house chores done that have been pestering me for a while. And to do so without interruption. All in the silence and calm of my house. Ah...
Of course, as it goes, several hours before they were all ready to come home, I was ready for them. More than ready. I sat anxiously waiting on the porch, eager to embrace each and every one of them. Ready for the noise. Ready for the fullness of it all. And that's precisely what I got - at dinnertime with everyone all together at the table for the first time in a long time (the boys are home from camp), there were all the sounds I've come to know deep in my bones as my family. We took a breath together, said our peaceful blessing...and then the everyday chaos began. There was some bickering over a sneaky switching of chairs that someone had done, a mild argument about dividing the beets evenly and fairly, a tumbled over glass of water, the tears of an overtired little girl....and stories of time away shared, new jokes told, and a whole lot of laughter. Loud, messy, and most definitely - a very full house. Just exactly how I like it best of all.