I work all week, all day, I come home and take my son to practice or dance or whatever he has that night, I do errands, I pick him up. I come home again, I cook dinner, I put him to bed, I wash dishes. I go to bed. I get up and do it again the next day.
So on a Saturday morning I wake up, make breakfast, and FINALLY, FINALLY, for the first time in a long time, sit down and actually feel a sense of purpose in my writing. And then?
"Mom, mom, will you play with me? You never play with me. When is the last time we played?"
"I'm working on something for a little bit. Can you play on your own for a while?"
"You never play with me." And then, tears and a scrunched up face.
And me? Instant anger.
Should I feel frustrated? I have a good life. Am I focusing on the wrong things? Or not focusing at all? My to do list is long and it is self-imposed: write a blog, paint, work out every day, talk to friends, read myriad books, travel, cook healthy foods from scratch, develop new product ideas, fix up my house, fix up my rental property. Do I need to do all these things?
What's important right now? My son.
The little temper tantrum I just threw? Not a grown up thing to do.
But I do need time to myself to do some of these things. Or at least one of them. How do I fit it in?How do I become more efficient?