This time last year I was fully embracing my inner urban gardener, cultivating a couple of window boxes and pots from scratch and nurturing a jasmine, which was given to me as a present. My little balcony was becoming a pretty, twinkly haven. The only thing missing were fairies. They’re real. ^hard stare^. Granted, the weather hasn’t really enthused me to get out there yet this year, but also the thought of emptying the brown, weedy stuff from the boxes does not fill me with joy, but it needs doing. The jasmine is hanging in there. The twinkly lights are good and dead.
I also haven’t shaved my legs in aeons, and don’t even ask about my ‘garden’. Whaaaaaaaaaat? No dating, no beach – no lady-maintenance. These things take time and effort….. it’s all so bloody exhausting. Bear with me, it’s all relevant.
I’m also trying to make a few changes in the flat. The trusty Kallax unit is still in the entrance, gathering dust and other crap, after I got new bookshelves TWO MONTHS ago.
So what’s my point? My point is – I can’t take care of more than one thing at any one time – INCLUDING PLANTS AND LEG HAIR. So if the cat is fed and watered and played with and snuggled, quite literally nothing else is possible. My brain can’t handle it and my body can’t juggle it. I genuinely don’t know how it’s done – the mind boggles and it stresses. me. out. One damn thing at a damn time. How do grown-ups do it?
Much admiration is beamed right outta my face and rapturous mental applause thunders on a daily basis, for those who manage many things at once. Namely two children. Or more. I’d have to run a roster system of who got bathed (including myself and another half, if there was one. BAHAHAHAhaha……… ah). If I was preparing dinner, washing wouldn’t get done. If I was gardening, the kids would have to get themselves to football practice. If I was preparing for work in the evening, they’d be no bedtime stories. Brush one kid’s hair and get them dressed – the other one goes to school looking like an extra from Les Mis.
Giving up literally everything else in the world (books, depilation, gardening…. breathing) and resembling a yeti for the foreseeable future, to be able to manage the simple things – like ensuring the kids don’t go to school in their pyjamas – is my ‘reasons why I don’t have kids’ #74.