working from home

Time. There isn't enough of it. Pretty much every minute of my 24-hour day is filled to the brim with things to do. By 9pm, I find myself staring at a blank computer screen, wondering how I plan to catch up on all my thoughts. 

Last night, I nearly threw in the towel on this blog of mine. It's been quite some time since I've written anything of real significance, and I sort of hate that the blog is turning into a picture montage of all our latest happenings. I mean--I guess I'm grateful for this space that allows me to record most of what we do through pictures because heaven only knows how slow I am about getting pictures printed so at least the pictures are current, but man, this blog is boooorrrriiiinnng! 

Between my regular mom/housewife duties, which keep me busy from 5:30am-7:30pm, with little to no breaks, I find myself swamped with work from 7:30pm-10:30pm, and the creative part of my brain is dying in the slowest and cruelest form. Every once in awhile I'll have a thought pop into my brain and tug at my heart strings, and I think, Oh just put work aside for a few minutes and write it down, but then the practical and annoying side of me reminds the creative side that there just isn't time for unpaid writing. I'm getting really annoyed with the practical side of me. 

Although I am thankful for a small part-time job that allows me to work from home, working from home is a double-edge sword. I am grateful that I don't have to find childcare for my girls and that I don't have to travel anywhere to work, but working at home is so hard. I don't have any personal time. If I take personal time, it means I lose time working, and I find myself frazzled on Sunday nights trying to finish all the articles that are due the next week. And sometimes, even when I don't take any "me" time during the week, I still find myself at my wits end on Sunday nights because I want to be doing anything else but work. I'd clean toilets over working on a weekend. 

I know this is a momentary phase of my life. Tim reminds me constantly that it won't always be this way. I too whisper it to myself on a weekly basis when I see a book on my nightstand that's been sitting there for months or when I see the rough drafts of the children's book I started a few months ago hidden under an ever-growing stack of papers. 

Life is what it is right now. I can't really complain about anything except a lack of time to read and write, and in the grand scheme of things, that really isn't anything to complain about at all. There are people in this world struggling with far worse, but I just needed to get that off my chest because the anger and frustration has been building, and rather than blow up at Tim tonight as we're climbing in bed, I thought I'd let it out here. On my space. On my terms. With no apologies.