People, it is hard to write lately. Not for lack of anything to say, mind you. But lack of free hands.
Sasquatch is still in the phase where he prefers to be held or on a human. And because he is my last baby, I find myself reluctant to shunt him to his crib.
Plus, co-sleeping makes the night feedings bearable and he is really an easy baby and I think if I used a cloth insert, he would sleep all night. (I already went a size up for cloth diapers. An insert would make him enormous.)
Shoot. I tandem breastfeed at night and in the morning because Glow Worm falls asleep at the breast (or comes really close) and that is way easier to deal with than his usual shenanigans.
Yes. I breastfeed two babies at the same time (I’d post a pic but even I have my limits) and cosleep with them, too. This helps me to sleep earlier because it’s really hard to get out of bed while wedged in between two sleeping babies. (Albeit, one is 3 years old.)
Seriously. How did this become my life? Welp, the tandem co-sleeping life chose me, I didn’t choose it. (This sounds like a great title to a really bad mom-rap.)
And during the many periods of breastfeeding, instead of writing posts on my phone (the technology exists and is actually pretty easy), I waste time playing Two Dots. (I got Cookie Monster hooked on the game, too. In fact, ALL my kids like it.)
I tell myself it’s because I prefer the tactile feeling of typing on the laptop. (I do so enjoy the clickety clack of a keyboard. Something about it just does it for me. Plus, my thumbs are fast but all ten fingers are even faster.)
Yes, I know I could turn on the keyboard sounds but that just pisses me off. And even though my kids can sleep through the apocalypse (yes, all four of them), I don’t actually want to test that theory by making more noise than necessary while they are sleeping.
Also? STOP POKING HOLES IN MY EXCUSES. It’s annoying.
So I end up wasting all this prime writing and thinking time not doing anything productive (even reading fiction books would be more productive) and my inner critic rears its judgy head and wonders why I haven’t done more writing already.
I am such a jerk.
Truthfully, I am having a hard time adjusting. Not to motherhood for the 4th time. That has been pretty chill and easy. (Sorry. I have easy babies and a super awesome and useful husband.)
Rather, I am having a hard time adjusting in the same way I had a hard time with being pregnant. Nothing was actually hard hard, but my brain still hasn’t figured out that oh yeah, I pushed a turkey out my vagina and perhaps that might have changed my life somewhat so writing will no longer look like it used to and won’t for at least a year so get used to the new normal – it’s not going anywhere until you pump enough milk to leave. (So lazy. Not happening.)
So what if the formatting is not as pretty or easy as it used to be on a laptop? Or whatever small thing is causing resistance?
If I want to write, I will write.
So here I am: writing.
Is it the deep or soul-searching stuff I have on the back burner? Nope. It’s not even the useful and informative crap I have queued up mentally.
But here I am. Writing.
Cheers to the new normal.