My days are spent wrangling children, chipping dried manure from boots, washing jeans, and frying calf nuts.
Sentiment: NEGATIVE
I have great childhood memories cow-tipping, going off and getting lost in the bog for hours, and coming home covered in dirt.
My life is gardening, cleaning around the house and power washing.
During the week, my days are consumed with school commitments, play-dates and work for Baby Buggy, a nonprofit I started, which collects kids' gear for parents in need. So on weekends, I look forward to uninterrupted time with my family.
I'm taking care of the children, doing a bit of cooking and trying to do a bit of DIY around the house. But that's not going too well.
On the weekends, I do the usual parental things, going to the boys' football tournaments or getting out for a hike along the Great Wall.
My greatest pleasure is going out on a horrible, cold, wet January morning to pick the vegetables for our Sunday lunch, putting them in a muddy pile on the table, and then spending 45 minutes washing and preparing them. I like doing it because it's so different to what I do in the week. The same holds for cleaning the car or shining my shoes.
My first job was cleaning sheep pens.
There isn't a spare minute in the day. I have spent my life doing everything. I work. I go home. I do the shopping. I cook. Then there's the laundry and the dog. Most of my life, I have been a working mother. And even when I wasn't, I still did it all.
My regular life today is reading books, making dolls houses, sewing dolls with my daughter and barbequing.
I came home every Friday afternoon, riding the six miles on the back of a big mule. I spent Saturday and Sunday washing and ironing and cooking for the children and went back to my country school on Sunday afternoon.