Just another day...

In my quest for creative freedom, I thought it might be helpful to share just what I'm up against.  Let's start with Tuesday night.  Cue 1 a.m. wake up of the 3 year old, with full on tantrum screaming in a night terror that lasted 20 minutes.  During this time, I have to hold him in full restraint from behind so that he does not bite and scratch the crap out of me.  I finally get him to bed when the toddler wakes up.  He had his vaccinations on Wednesday morning, so of course, he is going to wake up screaming with slight fever and extreme crankiness.  Around 5 a.m. I get them both back to bed.  Climb into bed myself.  Cue 6 a.m. wake up of my daughter who is getting ready for school.  Off she goes by 6:30.  I head back to bed for 2 hours while my mother-in-law (who I am grateful to for sleeping over) gets up with the babies.
Our new sitter starts today so that I can attend my writing group.  At writing group I am literally slurring my speech and feel like I am going to fall asleep in my latte.  Fight my way through, share some writing, give some feedback, and then I'm heading back to the house to relieve the sitter.  Toddler refused to nap for her, so I put him down for a shortened nap because I have to leave an hour after I get home to pick up my teenager from school early so that he can babysit so that I can take my daughter to a doctor's appointment.  A three year old who insists on running through the office jumping on chairs and a toddler who screams the entire time are my joy as I try to dismiss my eldest from school.  I leave, spewing apologies to the office staff, when my three year old tantrums in the foyer because the door with the handicapped button has already been pushed and we have to wait for it to close so that he can push the button himself.
Home again to get my teen settled with the babies, pound down 2 mugs of coffee and a 5 hour energy because I can't keep my eyes open, then off to the doctor with my daughter.  Nothing major wrong, just a slight virus, but she should stay home for the next day.
Wednesday night, bedtime.  Toddler goes down without a problem, but my threenager is repeatedly getting out of bed.  Trying to stick to the recommended system of walking him back to his bed, but have done it so much, I've already walked 1/2 mile in my own house, so I lay down with him until he falls asleep.  Quick bath because I deserve one and I haven't showered in two days, then off to bed.
Cue 2 a.m.  and I hear banging.  Said threenager is up, has turned on all the lights, and is cleaning his room and losing his shit because he can't make his bed "just right".  Convince him to come to my room to sleep, he brings with him a blanket and his now stripped off pajamas.  They must remain in a ball in between he and I in the bed and I mustn't touch them in anyway.  Try to fall asleep on 1/4 of a mattress and no pillow.
Next morning, doctor's appointment for me.  Waiting for the sitter, I happen to glance at Facebook and see I have a message.  She isn't going to make it, her daughter is sick.  It is now 25 minutes before my appointment that takes 20 minutes to get to.  Throw a diaper bag together, put jackets over the toddler and threenager's jammies, and put them in the car.  Last minute, remember to put stroller in the car.  Forgot the diaper bag.
Get to the doctor's office and it is literally the size of a closet.  No room for a stroller, though I jam it through the door anyway.  Cue toddler screaming that he wants out of the stroller.  Try to distract him with YouTube videos of trains.  9:15 appointment.  Get seen at 9:45.
Nurses insist on taking the babies and my daughter out of the room "so the doctor can concentrate".  I can hear them screaming down the hall the whole time.  Finish with the doctor, nurses bring the babies back.  My toddler is literally climbing up one woman as she tries to hold him, like trying to hold a feral cat.  I apologize profusely.  They feign understanding, but I can see "get the fuck out" in their eyes.
Driving home, my head is pounding and I am holding the steering wheel so tight my right hand goes numb.  Trying to practice my yoga breathing, but all I can think of for a mantra is "fuck".  Try to go Seinfeld with it and "serenity now" my way through.
Toddler falls asleep on the way home.  He's down for a nap now, and though I have told them repeatedly to stay downstairs, my threenager and daughter are having belly races down the stairs.  It's only a matter of time before they wake him up.  I've accomplished nothing today, save this blog, which I am writing so that I don't go insane.  I daydream of time management skills and setting boundaries as I down another cup of coffee.

Lame Duck

O.K. folks, here we are, officially in "Lame Duck" season...the time between Christmas and New Year's Eve when resolutions are born and old habits prepare to die.  I've never been one to make and keep resolutions, but this year, I'm holding myself accountable.  I really need to change my mindset.  I'm constantly stuck in this vicious circle of "brilliant" ideas that never come to fruition, closets that never get organized, kid crafts that go horribly wrong, and general malaise for everyday life.  I'm a dreamer, I spend most of my day day-dreaming of what I could be doing, should be doing, but I just hang there like a dense fog, taking up space and doing nothing.  I started this blog (years ago now) after a recommendation from a therapist to journal to motivate self-change.  I have a notebook, a sacred notebook, that I keep with me always, but it's meant for ideas, not the mundane chaos of my daily life.  I was supposed to write on this blog, to put myself out there---his thinking was that if I made my ideas public I would hold myself accountable and actually produce the things I wrote about.  Not so, my friends.  My brain is far too tricky for that...first I would only write about things I had  finished already, then I put off writing altogether because I knew I'd never accomplish the things I was writing about.  That brings me back to New Years Resolutions.
I'm like an old car...one that you have to roll and then kick-start while shifting gears.  I need momentum to get going.  I can't just whip out a resolution on New Year's Eve and start it the next day.  So I'm taking this time to build up my momentum.  Putting this experiment out there is actually kind of scary.  The accountability.  I second guess myself so often that I talk myself right out of doing the things I want to do.  This time though, I have a plan.  I've joined some online FB groups that support creativity, I bought a physical day-planner so that I can mark off and see the time I have to work on a project, and I'm in the middle of hiring a reliable sitter.
I'm hoping that this project, this time I will spend "Wrestling My Muse", will be therapeutic as well.  I tend not to be too public about it, but I do have a mental illness.  It's getting worse, not better, with age and I think that some of my depressive episodes can be linked directly to not giving fruition to an idea that's nagging me on the inside.  That said, I know that in my manic moments the ideas flow forth from an unfettered faucet and I can scarcely keep up.
So that's it friends, I'm officially on the mat.  Wrestling my soul to the ground to eek out whatever nuggets of beauty may reside inside. Wish me luck.