It’s time to blow the dust off this blog, seriously. I had this self-mandate that I would spend the latter portion of my maternity leave on actual leave, and this blog is one of the things I let slide.
I’ve spent the past three weeks adjusting to my new reality of work and baby management, which is best represented by a visual of myself tottering around in heels with a ginormous bag over each shoulder, lugging an infant carrier and swearing as only the parent of a pre-verbal child can. Add to the picture: two dogs galloping along with me. This morning, as one of my bags slid off my shoulder, threatening to crush poor Otto in his carrier, I told some guy at the ECE center that I was falling apart, but actually? I feel pretty together, all things considered. I was a mess two weeks ago, but now I’ve upgraded myself to frazzled.
I have even managed to do some writing, and once we graduate Otto into his own room, I should be able to get a reasonable amount of work done after he goes down for the night. It’s an exciting prospect, especially since I’m itching to get back to my novel. My writing group was really kind (and not just out of pity) about the last chunk I submitted, and the other night I sat down at my laptop and spontaneously solved a structural problem I’ve been wrestling with. Huzzah!
Because my writing time is so very limited these days, I’m also the victim/beneficiary of the feast-or-famine phenomenon. This means that because I have next to no capacity, I’ve been deluged with story inspiration.
It’s such a pleasure to have stories to chase again, but a bitch to not be able to chase them. Soon, soon.