Nothing really matters

Anyone ever feel that since you’ve had kids, you’re on page 1 and that your partner has skipped ahead and is up around page 27? And that once the kids are in bed, there’s a chance that you might be able to get back on the same page, but you’re too exhausted to even do the dishes let alone participate in a two-way adult conversation.

If Anthony is talking about the price of hay, I’m thinking about how we’ve got no bread and I want to ask him if it’d be bad if Elsie had another lunch order. If he’s talking about whether this rain will destroy the quality of the wheat, I’m making straight-mouthed faces like I’m listening but on the inside, I can’t believe I hung the washing out just before it rained. I knew it was going to rain. I should have just put it on the clothes horse. And my pyjamas are out there.

It’s not that I’m not interested (Anthony may beg to differ), it’s just that some days you feel like you haven’t got much left to contribute, because in comparison your day and your thoughts, while challenging and complex a few hours earlier, now feel simple.

But for 23 hours out of 24, I love simple. I love where our kids are at. There’s no getting up in the night. There’s no issue with friends at school. There’s just grocery shopping and washing and vacuuming and one or two after-school activities and wondering what to have for dinner each night.

It’s an easy place to be in. Simple and easy. And it’ll never be again.

You go to the races and you let everyone wear what they like.


The photo doesn’t show Elsie’s blue leather boots with no socks. I kind of wish it did. It would be proof that we can all have a brilliant day, regardless. Regardless of any of the challenges on the farm or inside the house, nothing really matters.

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