I’ve been pretty disappointed in my lack of blog posts lately. I tend to think I’m failing when I can’t meet my own (admittedly redonkulously high) standards. I want to blog once or twice a week, but my time is getting chisled away so much that I just haven’t been able to. That sounds like an excuse, but it isn’t. E’s up at six-thirty every morning and, if I’m lucky, will nap for an hour, or even two. But that doesn’t make the dishes that he won’t let me get done (hugging my knees while jumping and chanting “Up! Up! Up! PEEEAAASSEEE!”) or the laundry I can’t get put away.
That leaves after bedtime (between six and six-thirty). Which is when I cook dinner – anywhere from one to two hours, depending on the complexity of the dish and how smoothly it goes. So now we’re around eight. This leaves, at best, two hours before I really do need to at least get ready for bed. I was staying up until one or two every morning to get blogs out but the exhaustion caught up.
Don’t fear; I am making notes and have several half-finished posts, so when I do carve out some time in the near future there is plenty to work with. Don’t give up on me yet; y’all can’t get rid of me THAT easily.