I have a million posts that I want to write, and a million chores to do, and a million other things that I just want or should do. Everywhere I look I feel frustrated by the tasks I haven't got to yet. Yet today, yet this week, yet this year. Yet this lifetime.
I have felt this way forever. As long as I can remember. Some days I can let this frustration drive me. Other days, it gets me down. For a long time, I would make lists, create checklists, now even those things seem less like tools and more like chores. My lists are too long.
Although today I have aspirations of checking off items on my mental checklist, I can already see the day unfolding before me. Boxed in my time constraints. Naps, lunch, husband getting home from work, daughter getting off the bus, dinner, baths, bedtime book. You know the story.
When I sat down to write this, my intentions were to post to picture of my son attending preschool for the first time. It is a darling picture of him standing before the school sign, just like the one I took of Allison last year. He has an exaggerated and proud smile, one that I appreciate even more for all those time when he just wouldn't. But I can't get blogger to download the file, for some reason. It is cuter than cute, and I am so proud of him. I will have to get back to posting that pic.
My beds aren't made yet, and there is wet laundry in the wash that I will get to later. Mason is crying loudly and has been a bit of a tough cookie this morning. We are going. To the gym, where I will bribe my boys with 25 cent gumballs to play nicely in the daycare while I create an hour of time for me. Time for me.
I can't find the time, I have to make it.