I woke up all prepare to be depressed, because it's four weeks exactly since Mum's death, but I have just found the envelope with some chainmail links I ordered sitting on the table. So today I have a beautiful project to do, making necklaces for some friends, and I can happily ignore my children while I work. Assuming they'll let me work. This is a big assumption.
Geoff gets to go on an exciting Costco run this morning, and if I cheer up enough and also am ready emotionally to brave the -20C misery outside I might take the children to the indoor playground, even though it's bloody awful outside and there would be two different buses plus me, a double stroller, and four children.
I'm looking forward with fear and hope to the day when the girls can walk on their own feet. The problem is less that I think they can't walk, because they're really good at walking and at running away briskly, it's that I have a lot of trouble with having to run after two three year olds. In my experience, three year olds specialize in running away. And if there are two of them, they can run in opposite directions, probably towards traffic. This has caused me to keep them in the stroller even though they're getting a little too big for it.
Probably I should do something depressing like take them on their own trips out and practice walking without running away. Bah.