Why can’t it be bedtime all day?
Trying not to be noticed
It’s the only time he plays quietly by himself…
Bedtime
Category Archives: Parenting
Inspiration
Why is it that the harder you look for inspiration the less likely it is you’ll find it? I think that’s what separates the wanna be writers from the actual writers. ‘Wanna’ just doesn’t cut it.
Today I want to write. Okay yes, I was inspired to write this, but could I come up with an idea for a story? Not a chance.
Distractions don’t help. Which is why I get antsy when I know I have to entertain people – even my kids. Don’t get me wrong, I love my kids more than anything. But writing isn’t just a past-time for me, it’s a need. Particularly when I do get inspired by something. But today it’s the worst of both worlds.
I want to wanna…
A sad state
It astounds me sometimes how holidays have changed for me. As I child I looked upon them with such anticipation – with the same degree of excitement as I see in my youngest son now. He is filled with glee at the thought of hunting for chocolate eggs, even though he won’t eat them. So what has changed? Why am I not able to see life as I did, through the eyes of a child?
I think it’s only because I choose not to. The changes that occur within myself I have the choice to modify. Ah, the disillusionment of adulthood. A sad state of affairs indeed.
I need a glass of wine.
Published on VenusBlogs.com
I had an article I wrote published today on VenusBlogs.com.
Flying the Coop
I remember the day he was born – or rather the week he was born. He was my first. My water broke slowly over the period of that week and I slept so little that I was able to read a 1700 page novel in three days. When it was time to push (sans epidural – they didn’t offer them in the province of Quebec at the time) I did so for hours before they told me a physical defect in the base of my spine would make it impossible to deliver naturally.
You can find the entire article here.
Milestones
Life’s milestones come in so many shapes and sizes. While many are like gigantic boulders others can seem like pebbles at first. But even a pebble can create a ripple.
Today my firstborn, my baby, who has somehow so quickly reached a height of almost six feet and eighteen years of age, moved out. A huge milestone for him and what I thought would be a smaller one for me.
But now I find myself thinking about how empty my house feels, even though my other two children are asleep in their beds. There’s no one to call down the laundry chute to say good-night to before I go to bed. I’ll turn off all the lights without worrying if he’ll trip over anything should he get up in the dark. The ripples have spread, just as my son has spread his wings and proverbially flown the coop. Just like that.
March Break Blues
It’s snowing. And I’m thinking to myself, why the hell is it snowing when it’s almost the middle of March? And then I remember, oh yeah, I live in Canada.
I’m also right smack dab in the middle of March break. Kids are home and the youngest one is looking for something to do, as usual. I know what I want to do, but sitting around while I write, for some reason doesn’t seem all that fun to him. He wants my attention. Constantly. OR he wants my laptop, which is not very conducive to getting any writing done either.
So I pawned him off.
No, I didn’t sell him, though sometimes I’d like to. I gave him to a friend. Somehow I think he may be returned however.
Sad but True
Ever have one of those days when you haven’t had any sleep the night before, and you’re just about to finally fall into bed at 9:30pm and you get a phone call from a customer you deliver the newspaper to (for a stunning compensation of 11 cents per day) to let you know that your eldest son didn’t deliver their paper today (and neither did you because you spent the day in the hospital with your youngest son) and all you want to do is cry?
I wish I could say me neither.
Forty-something and still growing up
What is it about my life that at what should be my bed time I start acting like a teenager? I know damned well that I’m tired, and yet I refuse to do the sensible thing and go to bed.
I think that maybe it’s the quiet which lures me into wakefulness. When it’s quiet I can concentrate on writing. At night I don’t have to worry about the phone ringing to tell me someone has been misbehaving at school and can I please come and pick him up. During the day I’m so worried that my creativity will be interrupted that I would rather procrastinate by playing Bejewelled than run the risk of starting and having to stop. Then there’s the fact that at night I can act like an adult: having a child who refuses to play silently by himself (and by that I mean if I don’t play with him he screams at me until I do – long story) is hardly conducive to sitting down to a peaceful cup of java and a pleasant read. Oh, and wine of course. THAT I can enjoy a glass of after the kiddies are safely tucked away in bed.
After all, isn’t being a teenager all about wanting to grow up? Yeah, I’ll bitch about how tired I am in the morning…
Maybe I’m not really grown up after all.
lindaghill.com 