I’m so busy, my head is spinning.
Like a whirl pool it never ends…..
Friday morning dawns, and I pry myself out of the dream I’m having; we’re on a family holiday in Sydney, staying on the beach but Boatman is working. I’m trying to entertain the kids and show them the sights, but I don’t want to leave him out of it all. I have a brilliant idea, but as soon as I go to write it down, it is forgotten, and I am left staring at the blank piece of paper in complete frustration.
I just want to write.
I get the kids off to school for the last day of term two; so excited that for the next four weeks I won’t have to rush us all around every morning. That when I leave for work in the late afternoon, my girls won’t cry because they will have been with me all day long, and maybe things will be a little easier.
That maybe with that little bit less stress, and exhaustion, I might have time to write.
Please give me time to write.
It’s Bridie’s sport carnival this morning, so I do the right thing; cut up the large chunk of watermelon, and run the field up and down, taking photos for the school newsletter. I sit with her at recess and play counting games with her friends. I see BJ on the playground, and tell him I love him so much. “I love you too,’ he answers as he snuggles into me. I see my Taylah and she runs up to hug me. I help Ava navigate the big kids play equipment on the red playground.
And then I leave early, feeling guilty, because I’m not staying like all the other mums and dads. Because I can’t stay. My floors are dirty and my washing basket overflowing, and IBOT is still unread, and I really want to write.
I need to write.
Three jobs I’m working these days. Three different roles I own, and whilst a part of me loves the challenge and the extension and the fullness of it, another part is bone weary with exhaustion. I go from mum, to bottle shop worker to ‘famous’ author. I title I will not own until I sell a million copies (if ever), but my friends keep throwing at me. And all I want to say is ‘I’m not famous!!! I’m just Jess. And I just want to write.”
Somebody let me write.
I miss my husband.
Two nights a week is not enough of him. 7 nights a week would not be enough of him. But me leaving as he comes home, and then crawling into bed beside his sleeping form, does not work any more, if it ever did. And it is making me resent all the other people.
All of them.
The one’s who want to catch up for coffee, or who bail me up in car parks, or in shopping centres and won’t let me leave when I have a hundred things to do! Like clean that floor, or read those IBOT link’s or make my family a meal. Or even, have a sleep, so that on the two nights a week we do have together, I can actually enjoy my Boatman, instead of falling asleep at 8 o’clock due to absolute exhaustion.
Missing my love.
And desperate to write.
And so I push aside the guilt of leaving the sport morning early. We arrive home and The Wiggles and Bob the Builder keep my baby content, whilst I ignore my floors, ignore my washing, and ignore the tiredness.
Because I need to write.
Because I love to write.
And because it’s friday, there will be time later to clean. There is no work to go to, and just a night ahead with my bestest best friend.