Yesterday, I let my baby paint with watercolors at the homeschool table. Susan says I should never do that.
Susan may be right.
It’s a good things she’s washable.
Today felt like I was pulled in 49 different directions. Emeline wanted to make a new monster to enter in the fair. I was talking her through it and rethreading the sewing machine while doing lessons with Milo. Why is it that I spend more time working on my machine, threading, untangling threading mishaps and just basically bad-mouthing my machine than I do actual sewing? Is it supposed to be that way? I feel like I’m missing out on some kind of special sewing machine bond that will make me love my machine instead of regarding it with suspicion. Will it actually sew an entire seam without clogging up this time?
It makes me anxious and frustrated. I end up yelling at everyone over everything.
Right now I’m looking at a pile of blankets, clothes and a cardboard box piled on the table behind the love seat. When/how did that get there? Excuse me while I interrogate an older girl.
I know it’s someone’s fault.





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