For the first time in days, I have both hands free and nobody is screaming. Ryan is in the new hammock in the backyard, reading with a sleeping baby on his tummy. I should be sleeping, but instead I have made ham sandwiches with home grown lettuce and home-made plum sauce. The plums grew in our backyard, too, and Ryan made the sauce.
We are thoroughly domesticated. Our veggie patch will never grow all our food, but it’s growing all our salad greens and we’ll soon have a bumper crop of corn and tomatoes. We’re getting so much satisfaction in growing and cooking your own food.
Soon I’ll have the baby back so I can feed him. There’s a quiet satisfaction in that, too.
Between the baby, and the garden, and our hiatus from the office, we seem to have grown a lifestyle our great-grandmothers would have recognised. I like that thought. I don’t think I’m destined to be a stay-at-home-mum forever, but there’s value in these quietly domestic activities that often gets ignored.
The baby has already outgrown his smallest clothes, and the lettuce in the garden is close to going to seed. I don’t think this quiet domestic period will last very long for our family. But meanwhile, I’m still getting a quiet satisfaction from feeding the baby and feeding ourselves.