Since the birth of Little C, our third, and our return to New Jersey, our lives have taken on a pretty regular rhythym again. We make bread on Mondays after the naps, I do laundry on Wednesdays and Sundays, paperwork on Thursdays, we eat soup on Sundays (and have recently returned to the church, we paint or craft on Tuesdays, etc... Most of the time I relish in the regularity. I love knowing what each day is going to bring and, too, love the flexibility it affords us as a family.
Recently, though, I am weary of the tasks that comprise our days. Maybe it is the winter (February is such a tough month), or the sickness (we seem to be through it now), or the fact that our 6 month old has decided not to sleep, or knowing that we are moving into a house in less than four weeks that currently has no kitchen, or a toxic combination of all of the above...
Today as I was kneading bread (which is usually such a calming task for me), I found myself almost fighting with it. Grabbing in, holding on--not the easy folding and flowing of weeks past. We need a change of scenery. Tomorrow night we will spend with my husband's parents. Hopefully we will return on Thursday with slightly fresher eyes.
