This weekend the skies were grey. There was rain. Tom was away, and I found myself with a rare Saturday night off, but without anything to do.
I couldn't find my groove. I tried making plans, but to no avail.
However, the weekend was redeemed on Sunday afternoon when a friend I don't see nearly enough came over with her daughter. After some time painting (Iris painted on paper, Arlo on dinosaurs, Alamae all over herself), the kids pulled on rubber boots and played in the drizzle, with wheelbarrows and baby pools and hoses.
I did a pretty poor job playing host, but it was so much better than the ceaseless fight against house chores. Better than all my attempts to get things done interrupted by the frequent, pressing needs of a one year old, and the less frequent, and admittedly less pressing, needs of a three year old.
It was nice to leave those things aside to talk to a friend while our children made messes of themselves and everything else. Somehow, those messes, the ones made with friends, never feel like such a bother to clean up after.