Back again

Well, after an unintended absence of two weeks from blogland I'm back. Not that I think many would have noticed my lack of contributions but I've missed sharing and tuning in to my online circle of friends.  The last couple of weeks have been particularly manic in the Little House and each time I've tried to sit down and write, my mind (significantly smaller than most) has been too full to produce any coherent post - only the written equivalent of gibberish! Finally, feeling refreshed on this super sunny Saturday morning, I thought I would try and identify what exactly has caused so much 'to do' - so here are my Top 3 Stresses which I suspect are shared by many but probably managed a whole lot better:

(image credit: badmommy.com)

1. The Special Event

This last week has been our local primary school's centenary celebrations and like many schools they decided to turn this into a special event and a chance for some educational enrichment and so we had... 'Edwardian Week'.  A whole week, I ask you!  A whole week where S was expected to dress up as an Edwardian and take part in thrilling activities such as... finger knitting. It's the dressing up bit that caused the most stress.  S was determined to wear this hideous shiny 100% nylon dress from the dressing up box but I couldn't imagine it would be very practical and not at all Edwardian - more Bordoirean!

Quick! Wave your red petticoats!

 I did some research but whatever search terms I put into Google I was always presented with pictures of Edith Nesbit's 'The Railway Children'; it would seem that as well as risking life and limb playing on railway lines, Edwardian children wore peculiar sailor outfits and lots of smocks. I hasten to add that I possess no sewing skills whatsoever and do not live near any family members who might be called upon to help. Finally in desperation with a late night dash to Asda, I settled on a vaguely vintage-style dress.  Once paired with ribbon and S with her hair in plaits the look was not exactly right but it was getting there.

2. Missing Husband

Good listener - Dorothy

I could mean 'missing' as both an adjective and verb here.  It wasn't that I didn't know L's whereabouts - he was in deepest darkest Reading - and he was only gone a few days, but the challenge of managing house, children, animals and getting to work on time proved doubly exhausting and I take my hat off to single parents everywhere! L usually works from home and so his absence meant trying to find childcare at either end of the day and then there's the dog's bladder to worry about. Depositing youngest child before 7am at a friend's house is truly a test of friendship if ever there was one. The house was decidedly tidier and quieter without him but my motivation to cook something healthy lasted all but a day and on the second night I resorted to takeaway fish and chips.
On the third evening, already dressed for bed, I realised that I hadn't shut up the henhouse and worrying about foxes, negotiated my way across the mossy chicken poo lawn in my slippers to put them to bed.  It was still light and missing an adult to moan to I shared my woes aloud with Dorothy, our speckledy hen, which would have been fine if a late night dog walker hadn't been going past to hear me! 

3. The Embarrassing Incident

I was quite pleased to have almost got to the end of a trying week when it happened - the embarrassing incident that creeps up on you just when you least expect it. Being a teacher there are many opportunities to embarrass yourself in front of a whole class of teenagers and this week one such opportunity arose. There I was at the front enthusiastically reading 'Skellig' (great book by the way) entertaining the restless with a suitably Skelligy voice.  But I grew weary of standing and I perched on the edge of a small wooden cabinet.  The weight of my significant posterior was all too much and the top shelf gave way with explosive force.  Papers, pens, books and I slid to the floor in embarrassed heap.  There was a hushed silence and then much hilarity ensued.  It's not every day that your heavyweight teacher breaks the furniture! In the end I had to laugh too and I was pleasantly surprised by their concern, even though I know they will dine out on retelling that story for weeks - thank god we have a strict 'no mobile phones' policy or I'd be on the week's picks on youtube! Now where did I put the Weight Watchers recipe book...! 

Some might say that none of these are particularly stressful events at all and when compared to the endless stories on the news of tragedy and loss they are indeed trivial. Still, stress is relative and the only way to combat is to either change the situation or if you can't do that then change your reaction to it - humour helps, I think.  What are your top stresses and what do you do to manage them?  

S with her finger knitting (note the Edwardian colour of the wool!) 

This moment...

Inspired by Soulemama's {this moment} - a Friday ritual. A single photo - no some words, capturing an image from the week. A simple and funny moment that I would like to pause, rewind and enjoy again.

This week I discovered that hens really don't like snow. Brave Betty, one of our more adventurous chickens, ventured out the hen house but staved off the chill from her feet by alternating standing on one leg!

Hen or flamingo?

Those crazy chooks!

We recently acquired four chickens (apologies to purists who prefer the more precise and purposeful noun - 'hens'). I use 'we' in the loosest sense as really I had no part in this decision and I wasn't too enamoured at first with the idea at all.  I find those beady eyes and the unpredictable flapping a bit disconcerting.  My mean-spirited response to their arrival was that they had better be L's birthday present as I envisaged the great expense required in purchasing materials for a kind of poultry-style Grand Designs not to mention the extortionate veterinary bills to treat some unknown bubonic chicken illness they would be sure to develop.

Priscilla

Betty Blue and Nugget

Cove Hen House

However, so far, I have been proved wrong in my misgivings.  Cove Hen House has been fashioned out of an existing garden shed and various objects already languishing in the barn including a rabbit hutch and a wooden frame from a fabric wardrobe of all things. In an attempt to help me 'bond' and to encourage the girls to look after them, we have each been assigned a hen of our own.  Mine is somewhat of an oddity. Dorothy is a 'hybrid' (don't ask me what this means in genetic modifications of the chicken variety). She is a peculiar colour mixture of grey and black giving her a sort of dotty appearance (hence the name).

Crazy Dorothy

Whilst the others do expected chicken verbs- pecking, scratching and squawking, she indulges in, quite frankly, rather psychotic behaviours such as staring for inordinately long periods of time at the wall, chasing sparrows and head-butting the bushes.  She is the only one not to have done her duty so far and lay an egg and she is definitely the ring leader when it comes to great escape episodes over the garden wall and into the neighbouring turnip field.  Nevertheless, she has a sort of chickadee charm and I am warming to her, though if I have to chase her down the lane one more time, doing my own version of a crazy strictly chicken dance, then I may be warming the oven!

Linking this post up with 3 Children and It and Oldies but Goodies