I lie in bed at night thinking of all the things I want to do the next day.
Ambitious things involving crafts and gardening and cooking and cleaning. And of course, writing. Catching up on email, and the semi-professional obligations I’ve said “yes” to. Reading to, playing with, and otherwise teaching my son, being a good mom. Doing all the activities with him formerly performed by his daycare teachers, whom I only half-jokingly said I was paying to do a better job parenting than I could.
I lie in bed in the morning, wanting, above all else, to go back to sleep. To just get a full night’s sleep. Please, please, please let me sleep. Dammit, child, why won’t you let me sleep?
I drag myself up and out to find a kitchen full of dirty dishes, a living room floor covered in toys. I just cleaned these! A washer full of wet clothes and a dryer of clean ones waiting to be folded. Didn’t I just do that?
I hold in the tears and frustration while my son puts his head under my nightgown, exclaiming “I see your butt! I see your poopy butt! I said that!”
Pulling up my underwear and putting him in time-out I wonder if, by his nap time, I will have accomplished anything other than a list of regrets.
Postscript: I decided to enter this in the weekly YeahWrite writing challenge for “personal essays and traditional blog anecdotes.” It’s my first time around, and I’ll be the first to admit that my NaBloPoMo writing is not up to my usual standards, but it is a great way to get new ideas and find new bloginspiration.
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