do it yourself.

Being out of action has made me realise a few things.

Crutches are a pain. Figuratively and literally. I think they're purposely designed to take the focus off the pain elsewhere by giving you excruciating pain in your underarms.

I must spend far more time than I realise wiping counters, putting agway toys, and vacuuming, because the house has descended into a sticky, crumby mess.

On Friday, I had a moment. I was exhausted. I was sore. And my small ones were being naughty in the way small children sometimes do when they know that Queen Mummy Fun Police is out of sorts and it's the end of the week and they're bored. The mutiny had me so frustrated that when it came to lunchtime I placed bread, butter, cheese, knives and plates on the table and told them to make their own sandwiches.

They couldn't do it. Not wouldn't- they actually thought it was fantastic- no, they couldn't grasp how to spread the butter on without tearing holes in the bread, how to cut their sandwiches without their plate sliding all over the table.

And I realised that I need to stop doing things for them that they can do themselves. Levi-pie loves cooking- they all do, but him particularly- and he's perfectly capable of making himself a cheese omelette with only a little stove-side assistance from me. He adores doing it, and wants to at least once a week. There's no reason he can't make a sandwich. Or make his bed. Or pick his jarmies up from the floor. Or feed his dog.

The same, of course, applies in differing amounts for the girls.

Operation: Basic Life Skills begins as soon as my knee has healed up.