Author: mrs

I feel overwhelmed.  I keep getting confused about what this blog is supposed to be about, and husband keeps reminding me that it’s supposed to be about our experience of this crazy year.  So really, I can write whatever the muffins I want, because it’s all relevant.   What is my role?  Before we started this…

October flew by at a pace which I found perturbing.  Why?  Because I knew that November and December would be even more whiplash paced.  So now we’re here, nearing the end of the year, and I’m wondering where it all went.   It’s Thanksgiving.  We usually host, but this year we had planned to go up…

Life is hard and scary.  Bad things are going to happen.  Hard things are going to happen.  Something big, bad and scary is going to happen to you, guaranteed.  And once you start living your life in fear, it’s easy to find the next thing to be afraid of, and the next and the next,…

This was supposed to be a travel blog.  In fall of 2018, I got the urge to do something crazy.  I convinced husband that we should take our kids (then 4 and 1.5) to Europe.  We thought it might be our last chance for a long time, since European travel might be near impossible if…

Last night 1 year old and 3 year old apparently conspired to keep us from sleeping.  To be fair, we helped the cause by staying up until 10:30 watching a movie.  I got maybe 3 hours of sleep last night, and I feel pretty exhausted.   But I took a shower!  And I cleaned my stove. …

I bought the thing I want to sell online, tried it out, and discovered that I hate using it.  So that’s an opportunity.  If I hate it, others probably do, and if I can make it just a tiny bit more pleasant to use, then that’s a problem solved, and an opportunity to market it…

I’ve been working on a blog post, but 3 year old keeps jumping on me, and she just ran off with a basket of clean laundry.   I’m discouraged.  Writing is hard.  Writing while actively parently 4 children is…painful.  Literally.  3 year old just smacked me. Why does it matter if I take a shower?  Why…

The last 24 hours have been illuminating.  I’ve been pausing throughout my day to reset and ask myself what is most important to me right now?  I’ve realized a few things. My days lack intention I run myself ragged bouncing from one thing to the next, racing to do the thing that appears most urgent,…

So what could I accomplish if I felt like 200%?  What could and therefore maybe should I expect from myself if I gave myself what I say I need? I think it’s time for an experiment.  For the next week, I’m going to be ruthlessly selfish (that’s what it feels like, anyway).  I’m going to…

If you asked me what is the most important thing to accomplish in a day, what makes me feel like a human, nay, like a superhuman, what one thing that, if checked off my list, makes me feel like countless other things are possible–I’d say, getting a shower in the morning.  And yet.  Most days…

Since we committed to working on this goal, we’ve had to stop making excuses, and just face up to doing some very hard things.  And as we’ve done that, a lot of sludge has been coming out.  Insecurities, weaknesses, old wounds, lies we’ve told ourselves for so long that they have taken on the appearance…

Husband wants me to commit to blogging every day.  How do I feel about that?  I want to be good at writing.  I want to be really good at writing.  I so much want to be good at writing…that I don’t write.  Pretty much ever.  I never feel like I have the time, focus, energy,…

Ok, husband.  I have been cleaning my stove every day since…

It’s embarrassing how infrequently I clean my stove.  It gets dirty basically as soon as I clean it, and then for the next week or so I get a pang of anxiety every time I walk into the kitchen.  I tell myself I don’t have the time, and it feels like that is true.  I’m…

I would be so creatively productive if I could just shower for like 3 hours a day.  The shower is my thinking place, where I come up with my best ideas, where I get my thoughts in order, and where I compose my final drafts. Yesterday in the shower, the image of bread came to…

The 6 year old just came up to me and asked me to smell his teeth.  It’s a Saturday. So there’s no time.  And no energy.  The 3 and 9 year olds fight, and the baby climbs on you, and the 6 year old sends an endless stream of monologue into your ear as you…

The baby has his hands down his diaper and I don’t have time to write. I never have time to write, or to practice the banjo, or to mop my floor, or to read Dracula, or to put up art, start a business, shop for clothes that fit, organize the garage, or basically anything that…