After all that talk about not being able to get a decent night’s sleep, I’ve completely set myself back by staying up later than planned.  Last night, I was all set to go to bed.  The kids had been fed and watered.  My face had been scrubbed, my pj’s were on.  Then the Hubs and I got to talking about our week-end plans, parenting challenges we faced this past week and how to manage them. Then, it was 11:15 and I was kicking myself for falling short of my goal.  My sleep was restless.  I was hot. I was cold. I stuck one leg out from underneath the blanket to bring balance to the force and that didn’t help.  My boot was too tight. Then it wasn’t tight enough.  Then I took it off, but realized, I didn’t want the blankets pulling on my foot and causing a prolonged extension of my tendon for the duration of the night. So, I put it back on.  I was finally drifting off and felt the urge to pee.  I tried to ignore it, but my brain ran down the facts of why holding it was a bad idea. Hello, UTI.  I peed. I washed my hands. I crept back into bed and V cried out in her sleep from behind closed doors and across the hall.  I counted to ten and all was silent.  I closed my eyes. I skimmed the surface of sleep, not quite submerging, knowing that the alarm was going to hoist me back to consciousness.

Today, however, I planned to try again.  My goal was to be in the bed by 9pm.  Shutting down the house (i.e. kids squared away, kitchen clean, laundry done), I was going to take this evening to burn through a baking project that I committed to for Saturday.  As luck would have it, I pushed through the Betty Crocker business and got everything wrapped  during the after-school rush.  I was simultaneously baking, making dinner and issuing directives to my minions. Set the table! Wash your hands! Get ready for lacrosse practice!  It was a well oiled machine. By the way time the wee ones were in bed, the eldest home from practice and in the shower, it was 8:15.  That gave me a good hour or two to devote to writing. So I did. . .I wrote a healthy, photo studded recipe Friday post.  For Friday, not today.

Today is the first of May. I have been pretty inconsistent when it comes to posting on the first of the month. It’s not that I have some obligation to fulfill, nor have I been challenged in some way, but to me, a first of the month post is a clean break from the previous month and a committed start to the next.  I am consistently inconsistent about it, though.  As I started to gather up my things and make my way to bed, I remembered that today was the first.  While tomorrow’s post is in the pipeline and ready to go, I had nothing to say for today that I hadn’t already said for tomorrow.

The Hubs and I were sitting at the dining room table, working in tandem, when he abruptly snapped his computer shut, flashed me a peace sign and made for the upstairs.  It was 10:35.  What in the world? What happened to my evening?  I was going to bust out a post, maybe click around tumblr a bit, read a few chapters in my book and then go to bed.  10:35 and I’m still fully dressed, face unwashed, wondering how in the devil I’m going to get 24 cupcakes, 1 layer cake, myself and V into the school auditorium tomorrow without incident.  10:35 and I could see all that potential good sleep swirling away from me like Calgon laced water down the drain.

So, I decided to call it a night, only to have the Hubs call me to carpet about it.  With a pep talk to rival Mickey, he convinced me to keep at it, offering to stay up with me until I was done — provided it was a wrap by midnight. Are you kidding me? Midnight? I haven’t seen the far side of 12am since NYE and even then, it was because I had my eyelids propped open with the toothpicks from my martini glass.  But I digress. . .the prospect of staying up until midnight was SO unappealing, I just grabbed the first meme I could find, banged out a couplet about it and was ready to post when the Hubs called me out again.

Standing behind me, he simply asked,”Is this your best work?”

the face i make when i know i’m wrong.

Damnit.

I’m not under the gun, contractually obligated or even financially compensated for writing.  I write because I love to do it. I write because if I don’t, I can’t function properly.  To quote Gloria Steinem, I write because “Writing is the only thing that, when I do it, I don’t feel I should be doing something else.”  And right now, despite my desire to lay my head on my pillow, I am perfectly happy stringing words together for you to read.

I want to write.  I want to share my writing process, which is not that different from how I ended up drawing something from nothing at 10:30 on a Thursday night. I want to tell stories, share experiences, and draw out responses.

I also want to go to bed.

11:05.  I’m kind of cross-eyed with fatigue right now, but the Hubs is cheering me on like I’ve hit the final mile marker on this race and all that’s left to do is break the tape.

*cue up Chariots of Fire*

Fingers flying, I’m coming into the homestretch. I’ve only got a few more lines. It’s closing in on 11:15 and. . .

SWEET FANCY MOSES! HIT THE SAVE BUTTON!! HIT THE SAVE BUTTON!!

It’s time for bed.