All right, here’s what I’ve decided with regards to my Writing Troubles: I’m just going to write more often, whether or not I have anything to write about, because most of the time the best way to get better at doing a thing is to do the fucking thing. Unless what you’re trying to do is fit back into the pants that weren’t too tight a week and a half ago in which case you might have to stop doing a thing, namely eating those Christmas-tree-shaped Reese’s while telling yourself that technically a tree is a vegetable.
Anyway. I am allowing myself to enjoy the blank-slate feeling of a brand new year even though what would really feel fresh and different at this point is the children being back in school. We have had a very pleasant winter break filled with outings, games, movies, and general festivity, but let’s be honest, family time is more delightful when it’s the exception rather than the norm. Plus, everyone got an arsenal of Nerf weaponry for Christmas so I could really use a teeny tiny break from the constant soundtrack of saliva-laden bullet noises, pewpewpewpewpew. Oh, and who was the grade-A moron who thought it would be fun to gift them with a shitload of empty plastic bottles to fuel their water flipping obsession?
I say all that, but I know how it’ll feel when I take them to school on Wednesday: like something special has come to an end. No more lazy weekday pancake breakfasts and impromptu afternoon walks and Schwarzenegger film fests, back to homework and alarm clocks and routines. I’m ready/not ready for it to be over.