i know it is midnight, and i know i should be asleep, but i am driven to stay awake and write. not that my fingers are so efficient – i have to type softly and be careful not to touch my nails to the keys as i might wake up the baby- and not that i am really inspired. I am not. but yet, i am writing. life is like that: i am greatly inspired with wonderous thoughts while in the shower soaken wet, or while walking down a quiet path (sans writing device) but in the moments when i have the tools and the time, I am speechless.
i am a writer, sometimes, a thinker the rest of the time. i am a mother, one of those annoying career women who decide that having a child late in life is the “right” thing to do. dont get me wrong, i do love my son, but i had no idea the impact motherhood would have on my marriage, my freedom, my sleep or my life. i dont get enough sex and i am not sure i want it… and i dont get enough sleep, and i am sure i want that. we dont travel anymore as we found it far more stressful than if we just stayed home, and although i have a nanny (I know, boo – hiss) I have a guilt that comes with trying to work while my one year old is pounding down the door.
My husband resents the time i do not set aside for him but what he does not realise is that it is time that simply doesnt exist. unless, of course, he is willing to sit with me in the dark at midnight and watch as i type with the pads of my fingers (no caps i am afraid) and ponder what my life might have been like if i hadnt been driven to become a mommy.