The babysitter gets here in an hour and I haven’t done my writing for the day. Yikes.
Then it suddenly dawned on me that I’d bought the regular Seventh Generation diapers instead of pull-ups (bonehead) so I called diapers.com to make the change, and now she’s coming in 45 minutes. Shit. Gotta love diapers.com, though. They’d already shipped my order, but are sending the pull-ups free of charge, even though it was 100% my mistake, and told me not to bother shipping the others back, just donate them to another mom. Now that’s customer service!
Alright, so, what the hell can I write about now that I’m ready to go?
Yoga update: The tightness in my hamstrings has finally passed, but my hips are still screaming. Two teachers in a row did Gomukhasana or Cow Face Pose, an intense hip opener I generally love, but this week found torturous. Probably exactly what I needed.
Uh oh. Harlan got sleepy face up from his nap and the only word to cross his lips since has been, “Mommmmmyyyyy.” He wants hugs, kisses, cuddles and love, but only from the one parent who’s supposed to be doing her rapidly disappearing one hour of writing today. Good work, daddy. He’s playing the guitar, which seems to have pulled the boy’s attention away from his mom at least momentarily.
Okay, that only worked for three seconds.
Now Daddy’s trying to convince him to color psychedelic turtles with him.
“I just want to play with you,” he says, hugging my leg. “I want to sit in your lap.”
So there he is perched, as I attempt to put fingers to keys for a few measly minutes, with the babysitter coming in 20. Okay, in a desperate move, Daddy offered to watch a Huckle video with him and that did the trick.
I’m totally panicked about my promise to write for an hour a day, not because I’m not finding the time. In fact, today’s been the first challenging day, and that’s because we had a family day. I did yoga early, we went to the Children’s Museum and then came home and napped (Harlan and I “napped”)—and suddenly it was 4:00. But basically once you decide to make the time, you find that the time is actually available.
What I’m panicked about is what the hell I’m going to write! There’s one last chapter of my book that I need to revise a bit more based on my writing group’s notes and another essay I could take another stab at, but then —
Saved by the bell!