This Is Gonna Be A Lot Harder Than I Thought.

The Sleeping Cupid (1904) Illustration from “Vivilore: The Pathway to Mental and Physical Perfection”

Where is all the excitement I had for writing two weeks ago?  I think I lost it somewhere on the second floor of the house between the hours of 2 & 7 a.m. Friday night.  That was the third night in a row that I was up with a snotty-nosed Cora.  I feel bad for the kid, but I’m now totally devoid of energy for anything beyond the bare necessities.  This week those tasks including making two birthday dinners complete with cakes, helping my mother-in-law prepare for a trip out of town, responding to student thesis projects, trying to finalize the guest list for Thanksgiving, and baking 8 loaves of bread for a school Thanksgiving project.  (More on this later tonight if I can muster the brain power.)

OK.  Enough with the whining.  You’re busy too, I realize.

I think the positive thing I need to focus on now that I am sitting down and putting letters to the screen, is that I am feeling good about it.  It doesn’t feel like drudgery, I’m not checking the clock to see how much longer I have to work, I’m not jumping over to Facebook every few minutes to see if anyone “liked” my latest status update.  I’m just here, thinking and writing.

How can I find time for more of this?  How can I make time for this reflective writing practice once I’m teaching again in January if I can’t do it now?  But It’s probably time to explore some child care.  But, while I want to let go a bit, while I long to have time for myself, I also realize that my time with Cora is fleeting.  Before I blink my eyes she’s going to be as old as Rosa.  And I already feel like I’m missing out on things because I give her as much space as is safe to venture around the house on her own explorations and occasionally plop her in front of the t.v. once in a while so I can get the dishes done.  What’s she being exposed to in those moments?  What connections is she making that I’m missing?

Of course this could all be avoided if Cora hadn’t given up napping.  But, in the end, I won’t be with her for every moment in her life.  I guess I ought to start letting go now, before it gets much harder.  But not too much, afterall, she’s only 2.


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