This weekend I made granola and yoghurt from scratch (well, as much as you can really while not actually milking the cow or harvesting the oats).
Today it's all about image and truth and how telling the truth can portray a completely false image.
Because see how I just showcased my superiority in the department of health and lifestyle while still remaining likeable by being faux-modest about my achievements?
But I am leaving out some Very Important Bits.
Such as: we have live in help. Making granola and yoghurt is a choice. I didn't have to clean up after myself, I didn't have to make dinner, I didn't even have to worry about unpacking the bag of wet clothes we brought in with us after we went swimming this morning - the bag I didn't pack either, just checked for the essentials. This leaves time for whims like reading blogs and then deciding to follow suit.
Another important bit: both my children like to take a long afternoon nap and miraculously, they manage to do it at the same time most days. Leaving me with time on my hands, as cycling hero S. generally needs a nap as well around that time and I am not much of a daytime napper.
Third bit of importance: we didn't have internet. Or tv. And our DVD-player isn't talking to the tv for some weird reason. And in order to make myself finish the biography of Singapore I have thrown all fun books out of the house. So, really, this was the only option left to me apart from actually reading the biography of Singapore.
Even so, while boiling the milk for the yoghurt, E. (who's officially potty trained in the sense that she knows how to use her muscles to hold it in and refuse to go to the potty or the diaper or basically anywhere until forced by nature which is why the granola includes lots of stuff like bananapuree, coconut fiber and dried prunes) did a humungous pee on the floor and I had to switch off the milk and drag the wet clothes of her and clean her up and then soothe baby J. who'd gotten quite upset at all the upheaval and needed a cuddle of his own before I could to return to the stove.
Not to mention that the cable guy dropped by (YES WE HAVE INTERNET NOW HELLO FACEBOOK) who needed my input while I was monitoring the granola (it's prone to burning unfortunately) and when E. discovered I was doing internet-y stuff she wanted to watch Youtube videos and threw a bit of a fit when I wouldn't let her on the grounds that the internet wasn't actually up and running yet and I was running back and forth between oven and toddler all the while trying to keep a normal conversation going with the cable guy.
Having tried out the recipes, I'll probably delegate the task of actually making the stuff to our live-in help, otherwise known as "Gem", in future, which in a weird expat-y way of thinking entitles me to claim the cooking as my "own" even though I've only given instructions (come to think of it, that's the way professional kitchen work anyway, isn't it? I've cheered myself up now.)
But the picture makes me look all Scandinavian and homemaker-y and competent.
I like that. Just know: it's not the truth - not even a version of it.