Light Snow

It is quite cold in the Nether Lands.

The landscape received a light dusting of frost and snow during the night, and the husband and Sons#1 and #2 left early-ish for rugby matches this morning.

 I'm glad Son#3 and I got to stay home.

I'm making notebooks for no other reason than that I enjoy doing it.

I have a gazillion already, so if you want one...

I have some studying to do, and cleaning, but only if my back can handle it.

I'm stiff as a surf board.

I've been thinking lately that my leg muscles seem firmer, but alas, no.

According to the rehab-doctor it's because my muscles are stiffening up.

So much for vanity. 

Humph.

March is a busy month.

We have 3 social events (this is more than we have in any given year), lots of rugby matches, Son#2's birthday party, and then a sleep-over party for Son#1, and then my mum will be here.

The husband is doing a course on Tuesdays in Amsterdam (i.e. morning school runs for me and rugby in the evenings).

And all the while I must study in between, and survive.

Make artsy things to calm the heart.
Breathe.

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Finally

Sleep was elusive.
Son#2 (a.k.a. Mr Early Riser) and I were up and about at 6 a.m.
Son#3 will stay home this morning, tired bunny.

I'm so glad this week is finally done and dusted.
I have coffee and a book in bed.
Son#3 is downstairs watching TV.
It's a pajama day.
There is rugby tonight - if it doesn't snow.


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Hasta La Vista, Battery

Thursday has been Expensive.
After Ikea, I drove to the boys' school to pick them up for lunch.
Once in the car, the battery was dead as a damn doornail.
An old man with 2 hearing aids, kind eyes and age spots on his hands finally showed up and fixed my car.
He told me he's been doing this job for 47 years.

One hundred and fifty bucks later (*gasp*), and we were driving again.
Kakakakaka-chiiiiiiiiiiing.
The boys thought it wonderfully exciting, oh boy, to spend lunchtime in the car waiting for the AA to come.
Cheap thrills & happy kids.
But I was thinking: Buh-bye food budget.
We'll be chewing car batteries for dinner this March.

The Collective Loneliness

There is no place like Ikea to remind me of the never-ending human condition.
We are all alone, every one of us.
Furtive eyes of people in small groups, looking at other furtive eyes in other groups.
Seeking acceptance?

I am here for the free coffee,  a cheap outing, to buy a frame and to think.
My lecturing position has been advertised. 
This means that the university is basically ensuring that there is no position for me to return to, which will make it easier to fire me once I'm healthy.
In a way, this is a good thing.
I didn't want to go back to all that stress anyway.
But it's the lack of control over significant aspects of my life that gets my goat.




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Head in Sand

You go to rehab.

You come home to a whole new set of problems.

Rehab starts in 6 weeks-ish.

The pain won't disappear, but I will learn to live with it.

I'll have to learn to live with a lot of things.

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Christopher Columbus checks in

I really need to take the kids to the hairdresser.

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The AK-47s

If ever my 3 sons would start a boy-band, they should be called The AK-47s:
It must be said that the name indicates their distinct communication style.
Firing the one question or statement after the other, reacting violently, shoot-first-ask-questions-later (or not at all...), intimidation...
It can drive me nuts.
It's 9 o'-clock and I'm in bed with my clothes still on, no way in hell will I get back up to change into my pajamas or even brush my teeth.
I'm that tired...
I even phoned downstairs to the husband if he would make me a cup of tea (which he did, thankyouhusband).

Son#3 has a school concert tomorrow at school, and again in the evening and then again on Wednesday evening.
He cries a lot so I think he is pooped too.
It's a bit much for a 4 year old.

Son#2 is being bullied at school again, and Son#1 and I scratch-scratch our way through conversations-fights-humour-and-threats.

First, sleep.
Tomorrow will take care of itself.
It has to - I'm simply too useless.



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Out

A last-minute babysitter was organized, and the husband and I went to see 'The Revenant'.

It was good, albeit bloodthirsty and grueling.

It kept me up last night, thinking.

Our Sunday morning started slowly.

Breakfast, candles, orange juice, coffee.

Son#2's asthma medication kicked in making him wired.

Loud voice, loud actions.

Sometimes it lasts a few days...

We struggle to get Son#1 to SIT DOWN and STUDY.

Son#3 pees in his pants and makes a wreckage of the playroom which will soon be cleared by a bulldozer (me) and turned into a studio-cum-study.

The fun is over, mwoohahahahaaaaa...

I'm left in desperate need of uninterrupted quietude.

Study, dreaming and linocuts.

I have a lot of pain.

A lot.

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State of Our Nation

Don't worry:  this is not some political diatribe I'm about to launch into.
There is stress in this house, stress in how we (fail to) communicate how we feel, and it affects every single one of us.
When it is utterly clear that the husband and I are buggering up our lives and those of the kids with stress and wrong jobs, why is it utterly unclear what we need to do to change this?
Can anyone explain this to me?
All I need is a step-by-step checklist.
Things I can tick off, and move on.

I was looking for yet another self-help book on the internet, something that will switch on the light in the darkness, but save for an Alan Watts-quote, I realized that the answers lie within.
We will have to dig it up and live it.
I just wish we could get up out of this muck, quickly, because this adult-thing isn't working out so far.

Son#1 is still home, him and his stomach bug, poor boy.  
Tonight rugby, and I have to help out at the club.
Tomorrow rugby matches, I'm not sure what the husband can handle.

Oh, the Alan Watts-quote went something like this:
If you eliminate everything that isn't real (thoughts, hopes, worries etc.), what will be left?  Only real things.
You deal with what's left.



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The Morning's Production Line

I had to abandon my movie plans because Son#1 and I stayed up until the early hours battling his stomach bug.

I started a small, new linocut - Mandela, for its longing-for-my-roots-effect.

Then 4 prints, which is my quota for the day (arms, you know).

Son#1 and I both study in between.

He's starting to munch on things again, which is a good sign, as long as this doesn't come back to bite us later.

Every now and then some sunshine pops out.

The husband is fed-up with my illness and who can blame him?

So am I.

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