there's so much noise
Multiple people scream-talking
at once.
A chorus of mommy mommy mommy
A meltdown
if I don't answer fast enough.
I can only do one thing at a time! I shout.

They don't understand.
they do
but they don't care.

_ _ _

His tiny hands pull the banana off the counter.
Nana! Nana!
I reach to help
but the tiny hands pull it away.
I wanna do it.
I watch as he twists and squeezes,
the fruit growing soft inside the peel.

I need to help you, buddy.
You can't open a banana without help.


A meltdown
because he can't open it,
and he can't let me help him.

He doesn't understand.
he does
but he doesn't care.
_ _ _

The tiniest whisper
You're going to miss this.

It's what they always say
Enjoy it while it lasts.
The years are short.
You're going to miss it.

But there's so much noise, I reply.
Everything takes so much longer.
It's so much messier.
It's so much harder.

You're going to miss this.

But you just don't remember, I argue.
You forgot.
You blocked it out.

You don't understand.

_ _ _ 

A bucket of Legos upside down
Paper dolls line the kitchen table
Sticky watermelon juice trails along the counter
Dishes piled high in the sink
Three baskets of laundry
I told myself I'd fold two days ago

He runs up to me
buries his head in my chest

He looks up
eyes bright
face shining
blond curls bounce in messy ringlets
Plants a wet kiss on my cheek
Hi, mama.

I pause
stare at him for just an extra heartbeat
We smile at each other
His nose crinkles
His eyes squint

And then the heartbeat is over
he starts to run off
I pull him back for another wet kiss
Pause for another heartbeat

I already miss it.

Out of Shape


The reason I don't just totally give up on this blog, stop paying my yearly fee for domain hosting, is because I like knowing that there is a place waiting for me to come write even if it's been months (since January???).

I write a lot for my day job. Emails, mostly. I laugh when I see the memes about removing exclamation points when sending professional communication, because sometimes I do need to take a few out. It's not always easy to strike the right balance of friendly yet straightforward. And copying/pasting from the email I sent last week with yet another reminder of a missed deadline with a "as per my previous email" line tacked on for good measure is (unfortunately) too passive aggressive and generally frowned upon.

I was reading something recently where the person was talking about writing being a muscle, and how you have to practice and work to get in "writing shape." Maybe that's why it feels like writing for fun is so hard right now. I'm definitely in no kind of shape, writing or otherwise.

Sometimes I wonder about the things I spend my time on. I'm the first to admit that I have a hard time relaxing, and when I do have a spare moment, it's important to me that I don't feel like I've wasted it. There are some things that never feel like a waste of time. Running never feels like a waste of time. Praying doesn't, although I don't do it as often as I should. I suppose cleaning the kitchen doesn't, though who ever wants to do that?

It feels like a constant juggling act. Choosing which balls to hold, which ones to toss, and how many to try and keep in the air. As I sit here typing, I can feel Baby Bum number 4 rolling and punching inside me. I don't take for granted this new life that we are preparing for to join our family in August. Our last baby (pending some kind of crazy event). Growing a baby definitely is not a waste of time, although it does feel a little like we are resetting a clock on our lives. Another newborn stage of being so tired, another attempt at breastfeeding, another terribly sad first day of daycare. Not that I'm ungrateful, but I'm also starting to look forward to what's on the other side of the pregnancy/baby stage. Remind me I said that when I'm snuggling a cozy newborn.

Is writing this post a waste of time? Were all the hours I put into writing posts the last ten years a waste of time? I guess it depends on what you consider a waste of time to be. Certainly something that brought me joy isn't a waste of time. Something fun. Something creative. I feel this way about working on my scrapbooks, which I find so fun, and yet when it's over I wonder if it's ridiculous to have spent so much time on a single spread of pages. But, I mean, is it a waste of time to spend a week working on icing sugar cookies for a birthday party only to eat them?

Do people feel like this about their hobbies? Maybe you can relate a little bit, or maybe you have no idea what I'm talking about. But I'll tell you one thing: it feels good to exercise my creative writing muscle even just a little.