Again, some more!

Wow.

Ok. So there was supposed to be some writing about awesomeness of three year olds and their view of the world, and maybe something about six year olds and the continuing drama and what it's like to try to manage child care for first graders (spoiler alert: it sucks; there aren't many choices in my neighborhood.)

But what this is really about, what has consumed me, is that half marathon standing between me and all rational thought. It's tomorrow. It's tomorrow; it's tomorrow.

My favorite shorts are drying on the rack in the basement. My jacket is currently rinsing. I've stretched and gotten ART (ow) and taken my iron. I've run and run and run and run and run.

I don't feel ready in the slightest, but apparently, either I will or won't be tomorrow.

Tomorrow.

Writer's Block

I wake up at 6:15ish each day - and get things ready for the day - breakfasts, coffee, clothes, snacks and then at 7, I shower after Husband is out and down, and get myself ready and then I get us out the door.

And then I'm at work and I'm worrying about, oh, tons of stuff, and writer's block. It's with me everywhere. I'm worried at work. I'm worried in runs. I'm worried and irritable at home.

I leave a little after 5 and get myself home, racing through the door and cooking dinner, most often in my suit, and from there, I try to change and it's already 7:30, and the kids need to start getting to bed at 8, and I've fought the homework fight and we finally get them to bed and we come downstairs and it's after 9, and writer's block.

I have 45 minutes until I go to bed, but there's nothing on to watch (what the hell is wrong with TV execs?) and I go to bed.

During runs the thoughts don't flow anymore. I think about my feet pounding and pushing me forward and making the distance. I worry about relationships and people and work. Always work and what's next. What's next? And writer's block.

Words won't line up for me. They refuse - dancing just out of my reach. I have flashes before I fall into a fitfull sleep of the amount of things at work piling up that I need to get to that won't come - words finally aligning somewhat, but not in the way I want, but during the first half of the night, before a child wakes me, they slip away again, leaving me disjointed, and anxious and exhausted again at 6:15.

I'm running Saturday mornings. Which is hard, brutal, really, to wake up the first morning of the weekend for a growing distance, but then, I've got the rest of the day to hang out, and then Sundays are gymnastics, but at an hour that allows me to a) sleep in a bit and b) have a decent breakfast with the family before we head out. It might be the sweet spot. It's ok.

My neighbor came over a few weeks ago and asked me if I was training again - when I replied in the affirmative, she asked abruptly, "don't you think that's too much?"

I don't. Is it? Is that the thing that's wonky?

I yuv you ma-ma, MasterP says, I yuv you the moshe. (hee. awww. me too!)

Things are good. Really. They're ok. I'm ok. The trip to the Dominican was awesome, and I kid you not - resort weddings are fantastic. FANTASTIC.

I'm busy now, but what is the thing that keeps the words at bay?

I can't help but think that people are noticing by now, but I can't find them anywhere I look. And beleive me, I've tried. I've looked everywhere.

Can you think of somewhere I haven't?