The prodigal returns

Ahhhh, the joy of typing for pleasure and not for work-sheet production--the cheerful clack of the keys as I mistype and then hastily backspace through three sentences The soft roar of the overburdened computer. The finding of goodies dropped between keys by munching children. (Is that a cookie bit? Mine-sies!) A moment to myself and the universe with whom I commune. Via Internet. Because the medieval notion of ether-filled space was a bunch of hooey. Unless you follow recent astrophysical discussions, wherein the speculation is that there is indeed something filling up the nooks and crannies of our hitherto-thought empty cosmos. Go think about it in gospel terms. It's mind-blowing.

I needed a break. True. The world was crushing the life out of me. Too many demands for too little time, and the thing that could go with the fewest screams of despair was blogging. But, now that I think I have a handle on it, I'll try to squeeze in some deep/humorous/oddball/wacky/just-too-strange-for-explanation musings occasionally.

I've spent the time well: read some relaxing books (murder mysteries--relaxing because at the end of the book I'm still alive), knitted a few Christmas stockings (latest count: 3.85--and sill knitting), finally got the schedule mostly squared away.

The last one was the biggie. We had had the same schedule, with some minor tweaks, for years. It was a good schedule. It worked for us. I could live quite happily within its limitations and strictures. Slight problem: the kids have gotten older, and the burden of responsibility grows heavier for them. (Permit me a small, slightly satisfied, cackle--BWA-HAHAHAHAHAHAHA! Who's feeding the dog now, kiddos? Who's feeding her now?) And yet, we still have the standard-issue 24 hours per day. (I'd like to discuss that someday with someone who can do something about it. It would be a lot better for those of us with older children if our days could be variable in length--longer on the days we have too much to do, and shorter on the days when we all frazzle out a bit at the ends. Maybe a dial/watch sort of thing with a twisty bit on the side to speed up or slow down time. That would do us quite well, thank you.) So, our time for lunch kept bumping into our schedule for piano practice, and then they both jostled up against my (mostly imaginary anyway) free time, and the science and the math and the heart-to-heart discussions about feelings and aspirations just sort of had to work their own way in somehow. It was not a happy time.

In desperation we did what I suspect all successful parents do: we juggled everything around, reconsidered every aspect of our time-stressed existence, made a few changes, chanted a few calming mantras, ate some chocolate, and came up with a new schedule. A new way of looking at the day for a family that cannot define itself as "family with small children exclusively" anymore. In the process I've had to give up some things I enjoy--like 90% of my computer time. And my children have had to learn to get their rears in gear earlier in the day. (Me? Well, I'm still working on that one. Thank goodness for a husband who can wake up at the crack of 6:34. Most of the time.)

So, here's the concept: I will continue to write, because something has to be done to get all these random thoughts out of my head. Call it catharsis of the brain (because catharsis of the bowels is so MUCH more disturbing). The entries may be less frequent, and certainly will be less polished, but they will be written by someone who isn't trying to type with one hand while she combs hair, makes lunch, and corrects math tests with the other.

Balance, people. That's what it's all about.