I think it was Buddha, or Gandhi, or perhaps Richard Gere who talked about gaining enlightenment through the fighting of desire. The desire for stuff.
I've been thinking about this battle for some time, as we try and live small and simple with our single income and small mouths to feed. I'm not buying any new clothes for a year, and we have to think about every purchase these days. My spending is much more mindful than it ever was, and I like to make things where I can.
But it seems Ivy is a bad Buddhist. I took the kids shopping on Friday for a few bits and pieces (cabbage, wallpaper, night-vision goggles) and when home-time rolled around, Ivy threw a major wobbly and shouted, repeatedly, ‘I want to buy MORE STUFF!!!’
Time for some wholesome, non-cash-related fun: sorting out the dress-ups into a basket, after checking it out from every angle first.
And then washing-basket-as-a-train fun, and some clutching of Tiny Teddy (used, obviously, in the ironic sense.)
T-Bone, a completely adorable cherub, on the move and into everything, is currently the bane of Ivy’s life.
He’s constantly pulling her hair, taking her things and climbing on top of her in a frenzy of sister-worship. Yesterday she asked Keith to take her to the toilet, where she sat, quietly singing. (In the interests of cuteness-detail, her favourite tune is the alphabet song, and her version finishes ‘now I wonder what you are, will you please read me four books.’) When Keith asked ‘Are you doing a poo, Ivy?’, she replied ‘No Daddy, I just taking a break.’
She stayed there for twenty minutes.
Just taking a break.
The pump to the water tank has been sickening for a while and finally went to the great rusting ground in the sky this weekend. We’ve been living out of buckets and debating how ‘clean’ the washing-up needs to be to count as ‘finished.’
Visited the lovely Carol today, and between cups of tea, chockie biscuits and toddler tea-parties, Keith and I availed ourselves of the shower facilities. (We did ask first.)
Meanwhile, I've been making wedding lists and Keith is obsessively playing with his Rubik’s cube, which I bought him to wean him off his other obsession, some computer game called Civilization. Here he is in geek heaven, a sheet of scribbled algorithms at his side.