It's been a very long week. Today is Saturday, supposedly the most relaxing day of the week. Not so much. One kid sick...the other had to be at school at 6:30 am for his weightlifting meet...trip to Lexington to replace sick kid's phone (broken phone knocked into a glass of water when he raced to the bathroom to throw up because fever-riddled body wouldn't hold anything down)...four hour shift working concession stand for girl's basketball tourney (baseball fundraiser)...more errands...Mount Laundrymore.
That last bit sounds whiny, and it's really all just part of being a mom. Parenthood is full of days like today. I guess I'm feeling a little selfish. I edit and tinker during the week, but the real writing happens on the weekends. I look forward to at least four or five hours of writing time on Saturday and then again on Sunday. I feel cheated when I don't have time to write. I actually had some time after dinner, but when I opened the file, the part of me that creates laughed in my face. I'm feeling pretty brain dead, and I hope tomorrow my creative self is revived.
I have always lived two lives. The one I roam about in everyday, and the one in my head. The story changes, but there's always a story there. I mentally write all the time...in my car, at WalMart, when I'm waiting on a kid, when I'm tackling Mt. Laundrymore, even when I'm trying to fall asleep at night. I have one storyline that's been there for over 20 years. Maybe someday I'll write it down. It's weird though, the one I actually have written down doesn't play in my head when I'm not writing.
I made myself blog tonight because I was determined to write something...anything...even a whiny post about not being able to write. Tomorrow is another day, and I am determined to get words on the page.
Sick kid is now feeling well enough to aggravate me with requests that are becoming ridiculous. A good sign I think. I'm keeping my fingers crossed that tomorrow is a better day all the way around.
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