I have become completely starved of time.
By time, I mean time to do the important things.
I can blog, tweet and knit whilst O is feeding. And he now feeds all evening.
I can’t do massages or homework while he is clamped on.
This is now becoming a problem as I am unable to do my homework in the evenings. I’m currently feeding to get him to sleep so I can squeeze in an hours anatomy and physiology.
I must not let this overwhelm me.
No, I’m not pregnant.
No, we’re not getting a dog/cat/hamster/rabbit/gerbil/rat/guinea pig/chinchilla/horse/crocodile/wooly mammoth.
Something faaar more exciting.
Today we went to the Lovely Ladies Christmas fayre. (It’s not really called that but the ladies are actually really lovely.)
I am terrible at places like bootsales and fayres. I’m not awesome at picking up a bargain and each ten pence item feels like a win until I go home with a car full of crap no one else wants.
However, after meeting 82 year old Canadian Joan and having a lovely cuppa and a chat with her, we ambled around the hall…and I spotted him.
My gorgeous anatomically correct baby boy doll.
He’s slightly weighted and a little scrunchy. His outfit is handknitted (not by me but that definitely wins him brownie points) and he is just…
Well, you can see for yourself.
He’s mine. He is to go in my collection of doula things.
He is in for a life of being knitted for, being breastfed, cradled, worn, carried, pushed out of a probably knitted pelvis, having his nappy changed…
I can’t wait to play…I mean use him.
Well, I would love to say I’m dedicated to my story and I’m going to polish it until it is beautiful and shiney but I’m far too fickle for that. I also don’t think there are enough hours in my lifetime to make it into something wonderful, which is a real shame because it potentially tackles some sensitive issues.
However, the creative journey took me down some unexpected paths, some of which may need further investigation.
I might finish it. I owe it to Julianne to at least finish the first draft I guess.
Being inspired also has a profound sideaffect of providing me with a gateway to more inspiration. I’ve had ideas for at least two more “novels” this past month and started a jumper, and have ideas for my new big knitting project. Not at all handy when I’m time-starved and trying to learn anatomy and physiology and massage routines.
Maybe I am just meant to live in a creative chaos.
All new parents crave that elusive 8 straight hours of sleep.
Well, last night I got 11pm to 7am.
Sounds awesome right? And it would have been amazing had I not made some rookie errors.
I didn’t pump when I got in. Just fed off right boob, then to bed.
Left boob was FULL! When he woke up this morning it was 15 hours FULL. And lumpy. And super sore.
He fed. A lot.
He then puked it back up all over me and the bed. See I forgot that he can’t handle large volumes of milk on an empty tummy. I thought we had got past that. Obviously not.
I bought him downstairs amd decided to pump off what was in right booby as that is the fast flow hardcore boob.
I pumped off almost 5oz from one letdown on one boob.
The vitamins appear to have given me super boobs.
Normally I get 4 oz from both boobs after 2 letdowns.
And it is a pump and dump.
About ten seconds ago I updated my word count.
I have done it.
Holy fucking shitballs.
And I’m celebrating by sitting in a dark room with two sleeping kids.
Now I have an issue though. The story is not yet complete. I waffled. A lot. Meaning I’m probably only about two thirds of the way through.
Do I put it to one side, chalk it down to experience and stop chasing the stort which has frankly turned a little sour, or plough on, try to finish and keep updating the NaNoWriMo site?
Something happened. I’m not going to go into detail as I will have to go scrub myself obsessively in the shower for half an hour to wash off the shame. Don’t worry OH, it has nothing to do with any other people. It’s all me and my crazy head.
Anyway, the only way I have been able to move on and actually function these last few days (yes, the shame was crippling) was to wash thoroughly, scrub myself in the shower and then deactivate my account.
Only for a bit. I’m sure I won’t be able to stay away. I already desperately miss the community, but I just can’t right now.
Even writing this makes me feel a little sick and the crime wasn’t even that bad.
So…I’m still on facebook, email, blogging and for those of you who are WriMos – NaNoMail as deskmonkeymummy if you want me.
The upside was I needed that feeling to write 7000 words on Friday night. Not all bad.
I did it.
Under 10k words left to go.
This challenge was impossible, it was unattainable, unachievable and I’M FUCKING DOING IT!
Just under 10k left.