On paper, Spain has it all: History! Architecture! Culture! Cuisine! Art! Nature! Beaches! But the reality is curiously subdued. I did not love Spain.
This is the first time I’ve ever lived in a house that wasn’t a rental. I’ve never painted a wall. I’ve never hung a picture. I’ve never dug in a garden. I’ve never invested in my living space. And I’ve never been allowed the freedom of making a mess.
I don’t know why I thought having kids would be fine because I don’t cope very well with tiredness. The biological imperative to procreate has had millennia to find ways to override common sense, I suppose. Dinnertime can be particularly rough. The combination of a bad night’s sleep, a long physical day of looking afterContinue reading “Love in the time of child-rearing”