Saturday should be a sleep in day, but that never seems to happen for me.
I woke up a half hour earlier than normal, shrugged and went about my day.
I finished my first draft of book 5, did a list of things to do, did laundry, cooking, cleaning and childcare,
even launched my author page, at long last.
And my energy was gone by 5 pm.
Through it all, my sense of purpose flew,
atmospheric in its intensity,
until the time fatigue took over the wheel.
It was a mixed bag of emotions as the exhaustion took hold,
with good, bad, and overwhelmed fighting for supremacy.
I try to piece it all together while breaking it all apart,
just the usual good and bad
of daily life.
I sit on the couch and breathe again, watching as my little love tries to figure it all out for himself as well, and think about how it’s just the size of the problems that change, not the problems themselves.
And smile when he figures it out.