think fast

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think fast

There was this game I hated at intermediate school. Some mean kid would say, ‘think fast’ and on the ‘think’ they’d toss a basketball, hard, straight at your nose.

Good for your reflexes.

Or bad for your face.

I wouldn’t give this mild form of bullying much credit for my ability to adapt. But I do adapt pretty fast. Or I fake it well.

I had grand illusions that this week would be back-on-schedule and über productive. My health is almost in the clear, my kids are back in school/nursery and there’s french class and writer’s group for motivation… plus spring weather (ie. outside play, less stir-crazy kids, and happy me…

spring at rambouilletEnjoying the spring weather – at Rambouillet Forest yesterday.

I hadn’t decided which writing project I’d be working on for my two or four writing hours each day (while the kids nap/go to school), but I was determined this week would be productive.

And then Luuk got word that he’s off to Japan for a week. Yep, he leaves tomorrow. And maybe, as far as the day-time schedule goes it won’t make much difference to my week. He’s usually at work during my two or four hours of writing-time anyway.

It’s possible I will be more productive. I might spend another couple of hours in the evenings, pounding away at the keyboard, instead of watching television or playing a board game.

Or I might collapse on the couch and fall asleep with my ipad on my face, inadvertently turning pages of an e-book with each snorty breath.

The mornings will be rough. The kids are used to getting up with their dad anytime from 6am. I get another hour’s doze. I’m hopeful, of course, naive optimist that I am. I will try to wrangle it – sleeping in a kid’s bed perhaps. Or just plonking them in front of early-morning television. But no food till 7.30.

chilling in bedOne way to buy a little extra sleep.

There’s always the dream that this one week of pre-7am neglect will break them out of their pre-7am habit. About bloody time.

The evenings might be rough. At my antenatal class, they called it the witching hour. But it’s more like two hours. From 5 till 7pm, the kids might be in the tired sweet-spot: cool and calm and lazy. They might happily vegetate on the sofa while I make dinner.

witching hour, best case scenario

Happily vegetating, with the kids, on the sofa

want mumNot the tired sweet-spot.

But slightly more or less tired than that, and they want me, constantly, actively, and competitively. In which case, dinner burns or comes late (and possibly on a motorbike, in a box).

Luuk and I will be doing our wedding anniversary apart (a first – for our 7th) but he’ll be back in time to babysit… so that I can go to a Backstreet Boys concert (you read that right. Yep.)

Timing can’t be helped. He is the layer 3 support guy for a particular flavour of networking software, and when networks go down they need him ASAP. So he’s on a plane tomorrow.

Think fast!

reading, together, sort of


Y’never know, it might all be very civilized and easy.
It could happen.



March 12, 2014 at 7:33 am

Aren’t Poang chairs the best?


    March 12, 2014 at 9:43 am

    the ikea ones? Is that what they’re called? And yes. Love ’em.