I feel like utter and absolute CRAP right now.
You know I hate and fear Sundays, so today I took measures to prevent an encore of the worst Sunday ever by inviting some of our favourite people for brunch. I cooked lovely stuff, we took the dining table (which is actually a picnic table) outside, everyone came, we had a lot of fun.
C played with the kids, and played with the grownups, and played with Neighbour and then he played some more.
(Note: a silent revenge was taken by not giving Neighbour a blackberry-strawberry popsicle. Ha!)
This boring explanation is my way of saying that:
a) I didn’t suck all day.
b) C got plenty of attention and played a lot.
Anyway, at some point everyone went home and I was left with great memories, fun photos, and a MOUNTAIN of dirty dishes, not to mention an insane amount of work to do on my personal Fair Trade project.
I started dealing with shit.
C entertained himself while I did all the dishes.
C entertained himself while I cut fabric.
C entertained himself while I sneakily played some Facebook Scrabble in between bouts of cutting fabric.
C entertained himself while I ran printing tests.
C entertained himself while I sorted all my work stuff into a reasonably tidy pile.
C entertained himself while I ironed fabric, measured fabric, cut fabric, labelled fabric.
C finally started whining along the lines of “I don’t wanna play by myself any more” and I shooed him with a brief explanation on how the Capitalist system works and the suggestion that he go whine elsewhere.
C went away and I went back to my fabric.
And a few minutes ago I was about to start cutting a fresh bolt of fabric when I realised C was a bit too quiet.
Oh shit. He’s playing with water. He’s digging up the indoor garden. He’s smearing the last of my good moisturizer on his feet. He’s attacking all my fabric with a sharpie.
Did my poor neglected kid put himself to bed all alone?
God I feel horrible.
Shoes on. Jeans on. A Hot Wheels on each hand. (Yes, those are his unworn pajamas next to his right shoulder.)
My poor, poor baby!
Please excuse me while I go flagellate. But first I will finish cutting all that damned fabric!