Thursday, May 16

Proceed With Caution

Warning: The following post is a result of my need to dump the contents of my brain. Well at least some of it. It may or may not read with much sense. Read on at your on risk.

I am at that point, which I come to often I must say, where all else must come to a grinding halt and I must write. I can not hold it in any longer. It feels like forever since I made the time to just blindly write. Just purge all thoughts and words that are cluttering my brain. Which is never good for my brain or body. Writing is a lot like running. I need to do both. Often. Running and writing though not at the same time cause running writing is something entirely different.

I wonder if my girls will ever get the thrill of learning running writing? Or will it become obsolete an unused. The demise of english and writing as I once knew it makes me cringe. I wonder how Shakespeare would feel about it?

There was a time when I would read him all the time. Shakespeare that is. That is what school is about. Well it was when I went. Saying that makes me feel old. Really old.

I struggle some days with this whole age thing. How old one is, as opposed to how old they actually feel/look, combined with the appropriate levels of experience for said age. I am sure that by this age my life was meant to have equated to more, yet at the same time that is not to say I am unhappy with my lot.

Actually I struggle with lots of things most days.

Today I struggled to take the child to school and stop at the shops to get supplies for dinner. I cancelled a library play date, that wasn't really a play date so much as me looking after a friend's child while she had a job interview. Nothing that can't be done here really. Which is what is now happening.

It is that time of month, (you're welcome, I know you a pleased to know that, sleep easy tonight now won't you?), the last thing I feel like doing is siting on the library floor playing with two three year olds. Much better they come here and amuse themselves whilst I lay on the couch feeling sorry for myself and the curses of womanhood.

Which reminds me, I really should check in with Miss 12 about the whole period thing... I certainly struggle to think that I have a daughter tinkering on the precipice of entering the passage way all that is womanly. Surely that is still years away isn't? It certainly feels like it should be years away.

On the upside I think I have just about finished a post to young girls of the world regarding the subject. Or at least in my head I have had some good ideas about said post. Sadly my ideas don'e always come to fruition. I can think of at least a dozen instances where I have promised a post that never eventuated. Sigh. One day.

Sometimes my list of post possibilities is so long I get overwhelmed and don't know where to start. So I end up with a garbled jumbled mess like this. Though experience has taught me that some days I just need to get this nonsensical stuff out so there is room for my brain to organise what is left.

Generally though by the time I have sorted it all out, the time for writing has come to an end. I am sent crashing back to the reality of being a mother with the cries of children in need of whatever it is they don't have.

For now though I have at least sorted through a few of the jumbled thoughts that are currently plaguing my internal air waves so I guess I should tend to some of the many other neglected areas of my life. You know like the dishes or the mopping or something equally exciting. Though not the washing. Today is a washing free day on account of me dedicating the start of the week to it.

Oh the joys.

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