I almost quit blogging last week. So often I feel pressed for time, unable to find the time to write the kind of thoughtful posts I’d like to write, and unwilling to write too many of the sort of stream-of-consciousness quickie posts I can dash off between diaper changes and dinner prep. Other times, when I do spend time writing a long, substantive post, I find myself feeling guilty afterward because there were so many other things I left undone in order to write it.
Having made the decision to educate my children at home, I am committed to providing them the very best education that I can, and that makes it difficult to find time to read, exercise, keep up with the news and politics, check my e-mail, cook, keep the house from becoming a disaster area, work on my book and blog. It’s all too tempting to park them in front of Animal Planet or Tom and Jerry while I write or surf the internet or experiment with some complicated new recipe. For the record, the TV is off right now. They’re playing some sort of game that involves a lot of blankets, pillows, couch cushions and kitchen utensils. They do play independently quite a bit, which I think is good for them, but it goes in spurts, and there are times when all they want to do is play computer games or watch DVDs, and grumble when I say no.
At the risk of allowing Brigette Russell’s blog to sound like Bridget Jones’s Diary, I’ll also admit that I’m having a devil of a time taking off those last 6 or 8 lbs. of baby weight. I’m hovering between p + 6 and p + 8, with p = pre-Portia weight. (Can you tell I used to be an algebra teacher?) No Joanne Watson am I, clearly. I suppose 8 lbs. isn’t too bad after only a little over three months, but still, it’s frustrating when I spend all those hours on that cursed elliptical machine that I could use in so many other ways. Now, of course, I’m not doing it at all, since I’m sick. I’ve had laryngitis for days and literally cannot talk at all, can only whisper a few words at a time. Try making a housefull of small children mind when you can’t talk to them. I won’t even go there. Back to time…
I keep thinking, if only I could find the right schedule — no, the perfect schedule — then everything would fall into place. Except there isn’t any perfect schedule, and maybe not even a right schedule either. I realize that the answer is to prioritize, and eliminate those things that can be eliminated in order to do a better job on the rest, and this past week Moralia almost got prioritized away. It still isn’t completely out of danger, but I’m leaning toward clemency.