Saturday is a funny day. I now work Monday to Friday. Through the better part of their elementary and early high school years I worked Tuesday to Saturday. If I had to do it all over again. I would have made a different choice. Which is not to say I spend a lot of time lamenting what has gone by - because I find that to be rather futile. It does me no good to think I wish I had done something else or made a different choice. I need to deal with the NOW.
These days Saturday mornings are quiet. My now 18 year olds sleep in when they are not working. Mr W is also have a bit of a sleep in. I am sitting quietly in the sunroom. It is mild enough not to have the fire place on - I am bundled up in my flannel pjs and big, old comfy hoodie about to enjoy my second coffee.
I just decided to make some oatmeal. I hear some little sounds stirring from my daughter's bedroom. She has a project she needs to finish this morning. Spring break is over and the final push to get things done before graduation is becoming very real. After deliberating and procrastinating she has decided where she would like to study - but has missed the deadlines for Sept 2013. It is actually not a bad thing. I am of the opinion of a year of working and some part time studies and fending her way might be good motivation for when she finally begins studying again.
The son on the other hand is all over the map. Here and there. Maybe I will do this and maybe I will do that. Not a lot of doing going on. I won't lie. It is definitely a challenge. On the one hand I get how overwhelmed he is by the choices he has to make going forward. On the other hand - he has not exactly taken advantage of the gentle guidance we have tried to offer so there is a part of me that says you are going to have figure it out. Hard.
I too, am struggling with doing. I still have not figured out why I am not using my camera. I am going to the library more. I am reading fiction. I am writing. With structure. I am forcing myself to follow prompts and to do the work. I am hyper conscious of the time that is passing.
photo by mr. w