Quiet(ish)

Snowflakes in the window

When Friday hit this past week, it became clear that this was going to be (by design, and by necessity) a "quiet" weekend.  This particular month is, of course, ridiculous at the best of times, but - I don't know. We were all drained.  Me especially. My burning-lung cough was back in full force, and I unexpectedly had to have a tooth pulled earlier in the week, so.... my adventure-capacity was... low. 

Plus, rather than getting an "early Christmas vacation", the kids ended up going to school for most of the week, which no one had anticipated. As it turned out, after an "unexpected outcry" about shutting kids out on Monday, the provincial government deemed that, magically, the schools were safe to attend the next day.  The teachers are still carrying out work to rule, but otherwise it is business as usual.  

I found Linden "studying' in his room: reproducing pictures from a natural history encyclopaedia (and then adding ghosts).

So... a quiet weekend.  In many respects, we accomplished just that.  Juniper got to obsessively read to her heart's content.  Linden came up with his own projects, and happily did some solo playing in the scant blanket of snow outside (taking it upon himself to shovel the driveway and clear off the car, which was pretty freaking adorable):

Shovelling the driveway

Quick break to lie in the snow (and surreptitiously shove some in his mouth when he thought no one was looking)

A 5-year-old's work is never done

We also got the last of the decorations up inside the house:

Juniper untangles the Christmas card cord  (in her fanciest attire, of course)

Seems pretty idyllic, right?  It was... when it was working. Like most things in life, however, nothing ever truly pans out the way you envision.  Clark and I have reluctantly come to realize that "quiet weekends" can only be partially quiet to function properly. There is a dangerous reality called "stir craziness" that, once reached, will make all quiet, idyllic scenarios explode in your face.  The kids will go from playing happily to screaming at each other.  I will end up (ironically, I know) giving a wild-eyed and slightly demonic-voiced lecture about being kind, rational human beings (and catch myself just short of threatening to cancel Christmas). 

This is why (for my own future sanity, among other things),  that I must both admit and remember that it is pretty much always necessary to plan an outside activity of some sort, even on the most deliberate of quiet days.  A walk in the woods (or even around the block).  A trip to the library.  A quick playdate.  Anything, really - as long as it is a planned diversion.  Perhaps with this newly remembered bit of wisdom, the rest of December will run along VERY smoothly.  Hahahaha!  See you next week!