Life is complicated. Mine seems more complicated than everyone else's. (Now I realize this probably isn't true, but it's my blog, so I plan to tell you what I'm actually thinking instead of being logical.)
I have a lot of hats. Too many. I'm tired all the time. Every day has obstacles. Every day I consider quitting something.
Some days are just a game of strategy, like playing cards. Some are flat-out wrestling matches.
(Prepare yourself now. I'm going to get really real with you.)
Some days I forget things like meal times and birthdays and the fact that we need clean laundry. Sometimes, I forget what time we are supposed to leave, who we need to buy a birthday present for, where we are having dinner, where my keys are, when the library books are due, and which sofa my three-year-old hid my flip-flops under. And as far as our daily life, I can never remember what six-times-seven is or which child hates tacos and which likes salsa.
While I'm trying to balance being a wife, mother and writer, things often get muddled. Let's face it, for me, writing is easier than laundry. It's more fun than dishes. My computer never talks back or spits up or makes a mess. Writing is easy. And I love it.
But that doesn't mean I love my crazy life any less.
When it comes down to it, I will always choose my husband and kids over writing. They are more important than this. I tell my hubby that often. I would always rather snuggle with him on the sofa than write about a hero that is just a shadow of him. My kids will always be funnier than any character my brain could dream up.
I do not want to look back in twenty years and wish I had made more pigtails and played more hands of Uno. I never want to regret or feel like I wasted these few years I have with them.
Sometimes the balance isn't easy. Sometimes slowing down and shutting my computer is hard. But time spent with my family is never wasted.
Sometimes the choice is easier than I think it is.