By way of background, then.
For the longest while my children have worried that I work too hard. Something their father was overly guilty of before he passed away. So, I get they worry.
They don't fully understand the drive and determination when the job you are doing is a job you love and adore. A job that makes sense on so many levels but one which needs exposure and hard work to bring to ultimate success. A job you couldn't even be trying to do without the support of others. Always a pressure, no matter how willingly given or gratefully received.
Added to which they don't understand that it doesn't actually feel like work even at 3.00am in the morning. It feels like a blessing.
So much for the background. (A background which also included a post from online guru @totallylaura this week which resonated on much the same subject. 'Overcoming The Taking Time Off From Your Business Phobia')
Although maybe the other thing you could know is that, as a creative, two of my other hobbies include, but is not limited to, quilting and gardening.
Patience, people. There is a point to this narrative coming very soon.
The point being that I promised the children to clock off at a more reasonable hour every day and not work every weekend. Maybe indulge in an hour or two of doing something else – anything else – to calm a feverish brain before going to bed. I thought a bit more work might fit the bill, but the kids said a resounding NO.
I then hit upon the idea of making a small quilt for my nearly 3-year old Great Niece in these under-duress downtimes. Not the fabulous, gigantic affairs I have been known to complete – who has that sort of time or energy any more – but a small project which might be fun and calming. (This last sentence may have been included to stay the wrath of girlfriends and those still waiting for a fabulous and gigantic quilt from me.)
A.n.y.w.a.y.s….
My youngest called from school this evening, ostensibly to enquire 'how everything was' but was really to interrogate me as to what I was doing, how long I was doing it for and would it include some of the promised downtime.
"Yes," I said.
"Send me a picture," he said.
"Are you kidding me?" I said.
"Shouldn't be a problem, Mum, if you've really made a start on that quilt and cut up some fabric already," which is what I had, apparently, said.
"Son, tell me you're not asking for PROOF that I am telling you the truth? Tell me it isn't so," I said.
"Yes, I am asking for proof," he said.
Git!, I said (under my breath).
"To be clear. You want me to take a picture on my phone and send it to you, so you can be sure I'M NOT LYING," I screamed.
"Yes," he said quietly.
So you see…that picture may look like the start of a quilt to you, but it represents the end of being able to lie to my children for me.
A very sorry state of affairs, I think you'll agree.
HMS HerMelness Speaks
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