‘Too many things squashed into a small space.’
I’ve spent an enormous amount of time trying to work out what is the right Question to ask. I feel like I need a clear line of enquiry, to really distil what I want to say. I’ve Thought about it hard for two weeks. Or, at least, it’s churned round in my head for two weeks, squeezing it’s way in between the hundreds of tedious daily tasks that occupy most of my time. Proper Thoughts get squashed out during school holidays, by squabbling, shrieking, questioning children, piles of washing, toys, preparing meals and organising outings. But the Thoughts lurk around the edges of my mind, biding their time until they can get a proper hold of me. Chewing away at the problem.
I’m feeling dejected because now I realise the only Question I can come up with so far, is the same question that all the Other Mothers bang on about constantly. How can I fit all my jobs into one day, the days just aren’t long enough etc. Got to go now – youngest daughter crying. This is the fairly uninspiring bottom line.
