When we were away, a coffee mishap fried my laptop. I’m not going to name names, but the guilty party is about two feet tall and was not the intended recipient of said beverage. I could stomp around and cry and shake my fist, but I know firsthand how helpful tantrums are. So we bought a keyboard for our iPad until we can afford another laptop for yours truly. Not quite the same, but it could definitely be worse.

The important thing for me is to just keep writing. I am the queen of procrastinating and have to actively fight the urge to suddenly become really productive at everything else that can definitely wait. In the past week, for example, I have been experimenting with healthy muffins and mini muffin-sized versions of bigger things during my allotted writing times (aka nap time). Yesterday I made mini banana muffins, mini frittatas and mini meatloaves. Did I write? Well no, but look at everything I have to show for it!

Look, I’m definitely not saying getting creative in other ways is a bad thing nor am I against taking a mental time-out (trust me), but I know damn well when I am avoiding and deflecting.

So here I am writing, although I feel very uninspired and reluctant as hell. And I’m not really loving the feel of this keyboard just yet and my feet are cold (and there’s this other really good recipe I’m itching to try out immediately), but even if I had my old laptop before me in perfect condition and my house wasn’t an icebox, there’s no real guarantee I’d be that much more inclined to write. Let’s be real, I’m not quite as consistent as I probably should be at posting. I know it, you know it. And what happened to me writing about my kid? I keep talking about myself these days. What’s that all about? Is this a mommy blog or what? I’m confused.

Admittedly, I’ve been finding it challenging to complete my musings about being a mama. Half the time I don’t know how to get it all down fast enough and the rest of the time I’m second guessing myself. Leni is seriously hilarious right now, even when she is driving me batty and wasting time with all this bullshit insecurity is diminishing the likelihood it will all get documented. I mean there are so many good poop stories I may never remember because I failed to write them down. Ok so maybe I’d be happy to forget a few of them, but you see where I’m going here. And my feelings about my mama role are constantly shifting from one hour, day, week, month to the next so it’s definitely worth tracking that whole evolution.

Anyway…wait. What was my point again? Something about focus and consistency? Oh hell if I know. My toes are freezing!