Whoever called Sunday a “day of rest” must have had darn sight stronger boundaries than me.

Even though it’s only the third day of a new year and no-one of sound mind is even thinking about work until tomorrow, I’ve managed today to juggle two client jobs with three bottomless-pit-stomached teenagers and I still feel like I’ve not quite passed muster with anyone.

I walked the dog this morning, skidding along the ice, while the three teenagers in my house lounged in their beds playing XBox.  Dashed back in, microwaved my luke warm coffee rather than making a fresh cup, so I could get to my client call on time and put the phone down 40 minutes later to go and furnish said kids with crusty warm baguettes stuffed with bacon and sausages.

As I finished my own small roll, it was straight back to the kitchen to start preparing a roast lunch.  What was that about?  Guilt, that’s what.  I felt guilty that each time these particular brothers come over I tend to give them something quick and very simple (burgers, pizza…) and I figured that it was high time to show them I occasionally cook a proper meal.

Did they care?  I doubt it very much.  They moved between the Old Firm soccer game on the TV (Celtic v Rangers), the pool table and the XBox and I doubt they were waiting to judge me on the crispness of my roast potatoes or the meatiness of my gravy – though thankfully we all seem to have passed the test.

In between cooking I was working on a client’s new site and then it was a 50 km round trip to deliver the lads home.  Stayed only 3 minutes to chat to my own friends before heading home to continue working all evening.

It all seemed a tad frantic for a Sunday – is this the shape of the year to come?  Have I learnt nothing in 2009 about over-promising?

It’s not as if I bore my lot with quiet fortitude, smiling sweetly and playing the ‘loving mother’ card.  Not me.  I just get cross and complain and become a bit of an old misery guts to be around.

I still have much to learn.

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