I want to do so many things. My brain is alive and itching with all the things I want to and need to do. Each morning I wake up hoping that today will be the day when I have the time to do them.
I want to write pithy and interesting blog posts about my thoughts that are not pregnancy related, of which I have many. I want to include pictures, which I’ve taken but not downloaded. I want to write the outstanding review posts and especially the guest post I’ve agreed to do for a site that I really support. I want to update my Project 365 photos that I’ve taken but just haven’t uploaded. I want to comment on the many many interesting posts that I’ve starred in my reader before the moment is lost.
I want to finish Mini Mck’s new curtains, in a fabric I love, to go some way to finishing his ‘big boy bedroom’. I want to knit excessively and finish the ongoing project that is actually for me. I want to take up the maternity trousers that I bought when pregnant with Mini Mck, which I have never worn.
I want to get ready to do a car boot sale, to make some much needed cash from the stuff we no longer want and probably never needed. I want to write and more importantly start crossing things off ‘the list’, you know the one that inevitably gets written when a baby is imminent.
I want to practice some ante-natal yoga and do some deep breathing. I want to lie down in the afternoon every now and again and meditate or even fall asleep.
I want to write e-mails and letters to my friends that live too far away for coffee, especially the ones that are the other side of the world. I want to see the ones (or at least some of them) that are close enough for coffee or lunch. I want to finish my book and start another one. I want to read a magazine.
When I say I want to do all of these things I mean it. It’s not a case of having lots of things to do and no desire to do them. The desire is there.
The reality is that the energy is not. I spend the day keeping up with the boring chores and an energetic, but certainly not boring, toddler, who is once again needing a bit more of us at bedtime and through the night, making the evening shorter still.
So despite wanting to do all of these things, what I actually do is crawl into bed at 8pm, watch something light and fluffy and American on the TV for an hour, read a page of my book and fall asleep. Waking the following day to try again, with big plans and even bigger hopes that today will be the day I get to do what I want.