I have been struggling.
I don’t admit that kind of thing easily.
Yesterday I tried to run away from home, but the freeways & construction would not let me. No matter how hard I tried, I kept getting turned around in the direction of home.
Mr. Smith is busier than ever. Our business is growing.
The children are more demanding than ever.
The days are shorter and longer than ever. There just aren’t enough hours in the day.
And at the same time, there are too many hours.
I have so much to do, and so little time to do it.
I am exhausted, but at night I lay awake and worry about all the things I haven’t finished.
Photos to scan, photos to take, photos to make into art.
Photos to move, data to move, hard drive space to free up.
Recipes to try.
Recipes to share.
Things to write about.
Things I want to write about, but can’t find the right (write?) words.
Things I said that I shouldn’t have said.
Things I didn’t say and should have said.
People that I let go and miss.
People that let me go and I miss them too.
Instead there are tantrums, insane hours, negotiations, worry, crippling guilt.
Parenthood of two children under five.
Not glamorous, just is.
It is what it is.
All that other stuff will have to wait.
Curly noodles to cook, Legos to locate, costumes to wear, games to play,
drawings to hang up, parks to explore.
Everything will be okay.