Skip to main content

Up in Smoke

It is half-way through October. The landscape is changing. Fall is right around the corner. And I haven't done half the things I said I wanted to do over the summer.

I had these grand plans of writing weekly. And here we are... my fist post since September.

I should be ashamed of myself. I really should..

Life is passing my by. My grand ideas are just still ideas. Everything I wanted to do, I've only made baby steps toward. Because life and the responsibilities of "adulting" are getting in the way.

I have one of those fancy Happy Planners. I am addicted to it. But truth be told, it is way more cathartic for me to just design my weekly spreads than it is to actually put something down in writing. I wanted to write something everyday. But waking up at 5:00 am.. and not getting home until 6 pm everyday takes a toll. Not to mention, having a rambunctious 20 month old. I just want to talk to her. Play with her. Instead, we get into our routine of dinner.. bath.. and fighting bed time until she eventually passes out between my husband and me.

Then.. there is my husband and me.....

There is very little time for us. Between his work and other extra obligations, we just do not have time for each other. We are playing catch up on the DVR or he's working and trying to spend quality time at the same time. Which isn't quality time at all. Which has left me with no time to do what I want to do. Who is going to watch the baby? There is no way I can get 1 page of writing in let alone an entire draft of something.

I had all these grand dreams this summer. The organizing I would do. The things I would make. The loads that would be lifted. Nothing has really changed. I feel like it just all went up in smoke.

I feel like I need a manager for my life. A person who can be my personal assistant/driver/organizer/chef/maid. I barely remember to sweep up the corn chips my kid ceremoniously flung out of her hands. Laundry stays unfolded for days.I barely remember to brush my eyebrows... and the day starts all over again.

My grand ideas

 My grand ideas about writing and going to conferences. My grand ideas of a fully, Pinterest-envy worthy home. My grand ideas of projects to do with my kid. My grand ideas of elaborate self-care rituals and being a size 8......They are still grand ideas.

I am hoping I can relax the closer it gets to January.. but the holiday season will mean endless baking, endless crafting, and trying to get my house to look like the holidays for a more -alert toddler. Her first Xmas, she couldn't even walk. Now she is walking AND talking, already practicing her carols.

I shouln't make promises I can't keep, truly.

The weather is getting colder. I am getting tired. Season Affect is creeping in.. and I'd much rather cozy up to my afghan and a cup of cocoa or a bowl of stew... and watch Netflix than to do things I had on my ever, growing list of grand ideas. But then I realize.. if I want to achieve these goals.. I have to push through. Push. Through.

Until then, I'll keep making plans.....and just seeing what happens next.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

2018: A Year Without Fear

I used to make these lofty, resolution goals each year. The older I got, the grander my ideas became. That is until I reached the age of 30 and my entire life shifted.

At the time, I was divorced, living totally on my own, trying to rebuild myself financially and trying to figure out my next move toward happiness. That was at the time I started this blog.... which started out as my chronicling the dating and mating of a 30 something divorcee' in the South's Largest Metropolis. I was trying to date. I was trying to establish myself financially. And I was trying to find my purpose.

So much has changed in the almost 9 years since I started this blog. I've traveled alone. I gained and lost friends. I got into a Ph.D. program. I got re-married. I lost my mother, my best friend.... not to mention my uncle, cousin, and aunt. I gained a sweet baby girl.  I went from getting my bliss.... to trying to balance that bliss with my own life..... Yet in trying to find the balance, I alw…

The Ides of Birthdays

My 39th birthday is in two weeks.
*sigh*
You know, I feel like I write the same type of blog around my birthday every year. I get extremely introspective and pensive about the whole thing. But this is my last year of my 30s and I am feeling all of the feelings that have ever and could be felt. I hate trying to bring this up to folks.. who are always wanting to remind you of "well.. you got this.. you got that...". As if you haven't dealt with depression long enough to realize it doesn't matter what you have... if one piece is missing.. it throws it all off.
While yesterday was the 3rd anniversary of my mom's passing, I realized she wouldn't be here for my 40th. That was a hard pill to swallow. I thought for sure we'd be celebrating a lot that year... my Ph.D... a baby... a big, fancy car..... all of that. I only have one of those things so far but still... I was hoping that having her hold on at least until then would be the icing on my cake.
My life feels…

I Had Hope For Other Hair: Confessions in Black Motherhood

I had hoped for other hair...
(My Little One Reading a Book Before Bed)

... for my daughter.

No, I didn't want her to have "good hair"... hair that ebbed and flowed close to the weight of Whiteness. I didn't want that for her.  I didn't want her to have hair that was deemed "managable" or "a good grade". as if you can give hair letter grades or grade it on a curve.

I just wanted her to have any hair other than MY hair. She inherited my hair. And I cried.

When I found out I was having a girl, anxiety was replaced with dread. "Dear God.. I have to learn how to do hair". See, growing up, my mother was my stylist, even way into high school. So in between salon visits, she would relax or press my hair. She'd style it or comb it. And I never worried about it. I tried and tried to do my own hair... and failed. The only style I could keep up were Brandy-inspired box braids (which some poor, Senegalese woman would do for hours) or a very sho…