The Hawks

Yesterday, we had gorgeous weather. The sky was blue, the temperature was cool and comfortable, the sun was shining. And we had magic -- the hawks who live in the woods nearby must have been feeling the spring, too, because four or five of them were flying and calling together in the sky over our house. As high as they were, I think my husband and son scared them off with their noisy electronics as they tried to take pictures, because they left soon after we started watching them, but then came back, and stayed flying nearby as I watched them from the shade of our roof overhang. Later, one perched in a tall pine across the street, and sat there watching the neighborhood for a long time. She was still there when we left to do some errands, but gone when we got back.

So watching hawks took up some of my time yesterday. I also spent a long time in the evening looking at the town report of the town next to the one I grew up in. It made me so homesick for the East Coast, where they still have Town Meetings where everybody who wants to can have their voice heard. Maybe it's only workable where the communities are relatively small, I don't know, but it still seems like such a good system.

So, apart from those two worthwhile activities, what did I do yesterday? Why did I go to bed feeling that I had accomplished little of any value? When I woke up this morning, I thought it over. I baked bread, I made yogurt, I baked a turkey breast for dinner and bread pudding for desert, I made lunch for my husband; breakfast, lunch, and dinner for my children; cooked special food for my husband to eat after work since he doesn't like turkey; went to the library and the hardware store; reorganized some bookshelves -- how does all that translate into feeling so lazy? It's not in the high-energy league of Jennifer and Lesley, but it's hardly nothing. (Sharp-eyed observers will notice that there's no formal schooling in there, which may be part of the problem.)

I think that's one of the worst things about staying home with kids. Somehow, it's easy to devalue what gets done, and only see what doesn't. If my husband had come home and made some remark about lolling on the couch eating bon-bons (or whatever) (not that he would do that), I would have been indignant, but also speechless and secretly wondering to myself whether my day really had been worthwhile.

And it's odd how I can be home with my kids all day and still feel that I haven't really spent enough time with them. Today, when we'll be out and about pretty much from now on, I guess that won't be a problem. I'll be able to account for my schedule -- guitar class, lunch, writing test, grocery store, park day, dinner -- in a way I couldn't yesterday. We'll talk in the car. Maybe we really need our down time and personal space at home. I don't know.

I just know that I think it's odd how I can be busy enough to be tired at night, to have no time to exercise or read for pleasure, and yet still feel that I haven't done anything and that I'm really going to have to try harder.