Anytime we go anyplace I still get a little rush from my new bike and riding it in this beautiful town. For about half a minute life seems idyllic.
Then we get home and the boys start bickering.
Right now, for instance, idyllic life is not. Three is moaning on the couch next to me in my office. I had to bring him in here because he is coming down with another wicked cough and refuses to stay in bed without me by his side, lest I forget for just a moment his agony. I imagine he will be home with me tomorrow, and already I see our weekend plans slipping out the window. In the meantime, I have a big translation due tomorrow that I’m behind on, and Lou keeps climbing up on to my keyboard so I will be forced to pet her.
Oh wait, there she goes, curling up next to my monitor. And Three has drifted off to sleep now, under the first quilt I ever made for the boys. Six is upstairs snug in his bed and I probably won’t hear from him until morning. I can put my music back on now and make myself some tea. Roll up my sleeves and get back to work in the quiet little nook where I have made my office.
So maybe idyllic is the right word after all. Or close to it. Idyllic with a dash of chaos.
Kind of like riding a bike in Italy.