A recipe for calm

I was out for the day yesterday, and when I came home, my kids were over-screened and tired of each other. Sam went to a friend's house but the other three were home with me and cranky as bears.

I thought a big snuggle would help, so after supper I called them for a coze on my bed. They started sniping and snarking at each other, and it soon turned into a knot of unkindness.

I knew they needed a change, a reset, something fresh, but I was also tired and didn't want to go out anywhere. Two dirty pairs of feet were wrestling near my face. 

"Let's do a foot spa night," I suggested, grasping at straws, and they all stopped, delighted. 

"Really?"

"Really."

We set up candles and filled the tub with hot bubbly water. Vava laid out clippers and nail polish. We covered a folding chair with a soft blanket for the pedicuree. For a true spa experience we added sliced cucumbers and epsom salts to the tub, which elicited oohs and ahhs (and a few attempts at soggy heads-or-tails). I found a peaceful spa soundtrack and turned it on.

They sat on the edge of the tub and luxuriated in the sounds, the scents, the feel of a foot scrubby mat. They laughed and chatted and I brought in drinks and Eevee came in for a curious sniff.

After the foot soak they changed into pyjamas and we painted each other's nails.

Finally we ended up on my bed again, relaxed and happy. I read them a few chapters of Pascal's current bedtime book, and then they all piled on top of me.

"Group hug!" they squealed.

"Seriously, thank you Mama."

"This was the best night I've EVER had."

"Thank you for taking such good care of us."

And it was so simple. So small. Just some deliberate softness and togetherness after a day apart.

I love these lambs.

(this last pic! we'd been doing silly faces and then V said, "let's make the face we'd make if we got to see Papa right now!" and it was the happiest one.)

[And a brief aside to my Christian friends, because of all the political uproar about the last supper vs bacchanalia vs Olympics that's roiling around: 

We don't honour Jesus at the last supper by hating people, even if we might think they're mocking him.

We honour him by doing what he did at the last supper ... He washed their feet. Even Judas's.  xo]