My children are a primary example of the distractions I have to endure. Love them dearly of course, but it is hard to do the things you love when you have a tiny human face pressed up against your own larger human face. So very hard to do things when this happens. Not to mention my own little problems with lack of productivity. I find myself procrastinating just because everything whether its a small amount of things to do to a lot seems too daunting to even attempt to do. Like the laundry mountain. There’s always laundry mountain…laundry mountain never goes away. And don’t you dare attempt to conquer laundry mountain when the youngest born is awake. She is the monster of laundry mountain. She will tear said laundry asunder and use the baskets as her cave of solitude. Elder brother will attempt to lure the monster away for punishment and then the fighting ensues.
I keep telling myself that this was why I was an only child. While I think my mother may have murdered us both if there had been another kid in my family. I for one enjoyed the lack of drama. Though I do have a feeling that if I had a sibling they would have been the drama queen of the family. All the while I’d sit in the corner smiling innocently. My parents had it easy. My husband’s mother cursed him with a child just like himself and so far my son is just like him. I quiver at the thought of teenage years. Here’s to crossing my fingers and hoping my daughter doesn’t want to be like daddy too. Love the man, but he was a rebel. Not sure if I have the strength to handle the kind of stress he put his parents through during his teens. But I have a few years yet to deal with all that mess.
Maybe I will tackle this eyesore of a bookshelf and give you all some pictures of my work space. ^.^