11:00 a.m. GMT
Once the children are dressed, I usher them into the garden, where they bounce on the trampoline and beg me to allow them to play with the hose. Sometimes I will bounce or “wrestle” with them for a bit, and this makes them very happy. It has the same effect on me as well. After a while I finally relent and allow them some water play, with a hose, buckets, and a miniature plastic kitchen set.
With the kids sufficiently distracted, I head inside and begin cooking, keeping an eye on them from the kitchen window. I first decide to make chicken stock with leftover carcasses.
Simple Chicken Stock
1 chicken carcass （without meat） and 1 whole chicken without breast meat （or 2 of either one）
10 mixed peppercorns
1 medium yellow onion, skin on, cut in half
1 medium red onion, skin on, cut in half
2 garlic cloves, skin on
2 celery stalks, quartered
2 carrots, quartered
A handful of parsley
2 bay leaves
Salt
1 sprig rosemary
2 sprigs thyme
If you are using a whole chicken, cut it in pieces at the leg joints. Put the carcass and chicken pieces into a stockpot and cover with water. Bring to a boil and skim off the scum that rises to the top. Add the other ingredients and simmer, partially covered, for as long as you want but at least 2 hours.
Strain through a sieve into some vessel and allow to cool, then refrigerate, or divide among freezer bags and freeze.
12:15 p.m. GMT
The older generation of children awakens. They enter the kitchen and make quick work of an entire loaf of bread, two pints of cherry tomatoes, four avocados, six eggs, two pints of blueberries, four bananas, twenty rashers of bacon, one liter of almond milk, six Nespresso pods, and a liter of orange juice before retreating to the TV room or their bedrooms, where they tell me they are doing their schoolwork. I believe them, even if I don’t. Felicity comes down and serves the little ones lunch after I have changed their waterlogged clothes. I am off to clean a bathroom or two, do some more laundry, or vacuum something that I just vacuumed three hours before.
1:45 p.m. GMT
Felicity puts the two-year-old down for her nap, the five-year-old listens to his audiobook, and I make marinara and prep the eggplant for the pasta alla Norma.
3:00 p.m. GMT
When all is prepped and the kitchen is cleaned once again, it is my intention to write something, read, or catch up on emails. Instead I pick up the New York Times crossword puzzle to clear my head, and promptly fall asleep.
3:30 p.m. GMT
I awaken with spittle on my chin and too few clues answered. Glancing at my watch, I rush upstairs to awaken the two-year-old from her nap. When I arrive Felicity is already changing her while doing a conference call. I know she wants to give me a dirty look, but she is a much better person than that. I take the child, finish the diapering, re-dress her, and head downstairs. I give both children a snack and we play together in the garden. We bounce on the trampoline, do chalk drawings on the patio, look for slugs, and maybe do some painting. It is at once lovely and exhausting. We are laughing one moment and the next someone is weeping, and I am adjudicating, saying things like, “Let her have it for a few minutes and then you can have it.”
“What’s a few?”
“A few is three.”
“Three minutes?”
“Yes, three minutes. And then you can have it.”
“Will you time it?”
“Yes, I will time it.”
I do indeed time it, but the two-year-old screams when whatever object they both covet gets taken from her. Play begins anew, but then the spat starts all over again.
4:30 p.m. GMT
I look at my watch and will it to be five p.m. Cocktail time.
4:45 p.m. GMT
I acquiesce and make a Negroni. It is said that Negronis are like breasts: “One is not enough, two is perfect, and three is just too many.”
Today I am tempted to see what happens if I drink four.
5:00 p.m. GMT
The older children have now come downstairs to eat an entire meal before I make them an entire meal for dinner. Thankfully, as penance, two of them take the little ones up for their bath. Felicity enters the kitchen and begs for a Negroni. I gladly make her one, as I hate to drink alone, although I have been known to make near-daily exceptions. And anyway one is never really drinking alone. Someone else is always drinking somewhere. We prepare the children’s dinner, lamb chops, rice, and string beans. I switch to white wine and thank Christ it is evening.
Lamb Chops
— SERVES 4 ADULTS —
A glug of extra-virgin olive oil
3 garlic cloves, halved