It could have something to do with my procrastination. I am a lifelong procrastinator. It is a pet peeve of mine with myself. I wish that I wasn’t. I try not to be. Really, I do. But I. just. am.
I have many excuses of why I don’t keep up with my writing…
I have a 2-year-old who thinks he runs the world. And if he doesn’t get his way, it’s the end of the world. (I’m talking a simple “No, son” sends him into a full-on epic meltdown, complete with throwing himself down on the floor & flopping around like a catfish out of water, & sobbing, then screeching, inconsolably, sometimes for hours) When he’s not busy being the little tyrant that he is, we’re busy playing together. That is the one thing I do allow him to still boss me about, demanding me to come play pretend dinosaurs or read him just one more Dr. Seuss book.
I have 2 large, energetic, goofy dogs that demand the rest of my free attention. I have a husband who deserves my full attention when he gets home b/c I do love him so very much & wish that I had more energy & time to devote entirely to him.
I have a constant pile of laundry that mocks me, daring me to just try to ever catch up completely. There is never a day when there isn’t at least one basket of laundry undone in my house.
And the rest of the house…well, let’s just say Martha Stewart would definitely NOT approve of my clutter & dust & unwashed baseboards if she broke in. Fortunately, I highly doubt that will ever happen. I am not & will probably never be one of those people who is constantly cleaning everything in sight & requires things to be just so. In fact, I am lost without my piles of clutter. When my husband goes on a cleaning spree & moves my piles, I have no idea where anything is anymore b/c I knew exactly where everything was before it was “neat.” Luckily for me, my husband loves me & my non-cleaning-obsessed self. (Thank you, honey, for tolerating my mess)
I actually feel terribly guilty that I am not an OCD cleaner that has the house spotless & sparkly when the hubby walks in the door. I really do mean to get around to these
mindnumbingly boring menial cleaning tasks at some point…but it always seems to be later. I wish I was a domestic goddess effortlessly.
I have been a captive of the Terrible Twos for the last year & a half. My son started early. I used to be impressed when he reached every milestone early…not so much these days. No, I spend half my days praying that the Terrible Twos will not run over into the Terrible Threes & Fours. Not that I’m not impressed with his intelligence or his independent little self. I am. I just wish I could see a light at the end of these tantrums.
It amazes me how quickly the last few years seem to have blurred right past me. I have been procrastinating about blogging for the last 2 years…that makes me sad. Writing used to be my only salvation to my sanity. Lately though, I tell myself, “Oh, I’ll blog when everyone’s asleep. Got too much to do right now.” That would work out splendidly, except that the Meat Man falls asleep on the couch at about 8:30 every night. But the Little Tyrant is still all energized from his late-afternoon nap he has become prone to taking from about 5:45 to 7:45.
And so, my son demands my attention more than my personal time. Does it make me a horrible person that I would LOVE to just lock him in his room for some me time? I like to think it doesn’t, that every stay-at-home mother with a tyrannical 2-year-old has these thoughts. I hope I get some credit for not giving into them. I have trouble even letting him out of my sight for a few minutes, for the simple fact that he is very sneaky & adventurous & there really is no telling what kind of
fun trouble he’s going to get into in just a few moments.
By the time my planned blogging time rolls around, say around 10:00 or 11:00, not only is my son still awake & “Mommymommymommy”ing me to DEATH, I am so plum wore out that I can’t even think straight, let alone try to form a coherent sentence that people could read. But, I am going to try to get back in the habit of writing just a little bit every day.
Hopefully, my boring stay-at-home mom life won’t bore ya’ll to death.
Until next time, One Very Tired Mama