Hi friends. This time, I've got my hair up in a towel. Baby is taking an exceptionally long morning nap, and I really ought to seize this opportunity to do my hair, brush on some make-up and clean up the breakfast dishes before lunchtime - all things that happen too seldom.
But I happened to have my computer on my lap and my kids are distracted doing something other than climbing on mom - but not making trouble quite yet. The window there is about three to five minutes. So while my hair is drying itself into a frizzy mop, I'm here instead. Because I'm beginning to think that writing is something that has to be stolen, and that makes me feel more like a thief - the cool, ninja kind, not the kind in a ski mask who holds up a convenience store - than a mom in a messy house with a lopsided towel turban.
Then again, when I've gotten the kids to bed tonight and wonder what I should do with that hour of freedom, the thought will cross my mind, I should write something. That thought will be promptly trampled by a stampede of easier, less worthwhile activities, which I will not disclose here...though really bad netflix movies or sappy kindle freebies might be involved....
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