Hi everyone! Yoohoo! *Waves madly with both arms while onlookers surreptitiously bow their heads or pretend to focus their attention on something desperately interesting on the horizon. I’m back! You can all breathe a collective sigh of relief in the knowledge that, nine months after signing off from this blog to succumb to another bout of babyitis, I have returned to the land of the mentally capable and am ready to focus (some of) my attention back on my writing blog. With a freshly minted two-year-old in the house, not to mention a nine-month-old who only wakes once, or three times, during the night, what better time is there to limber up my neglected writing muscles by diving back into the bog? I mean log. I mean, er… did someone say Giggle and Hoot?
I have come to realise over the past nine months that there is no, and never will be a, perfect time in which to start writing again. Newborn feeding every two hours? I’d be lucky to put on clean clothes in the morning and avoid getting the coffee beans and dog food pellets mixed up. Hubby was not impressed by his freshly ground cup of dog food in the morning, but it turns out that the dog is quite partial to Arabica. Chubby bubby starting to crawl? I’m far too busy installing baby gates and a laser tripwire alarm system to even think about writing. Toddler making constant, conflicting demands, then having a meltdown when these are not met and doing something akin to breakdancing on the kitchen floor? Excuse me while I slip away into the garage and bang my head against the beer fridge. And it won’t get any easier as the little tikes grow older. Kids at school all day, every day? I do believe there is an unfinished bottle of Sauvignon Blanc in my fridge. Relax, relax. I’m joking. There is never an unfinished bottle of Sauvignon Blanc anywhere in my house.
So, having come to the realisation that not only is there never a perfect time to embark on any venture, and, therefore, that this is as good a time as any to do so, I am also acutely aware that there are many, many writers out there blogging about writing and motherhood. And the vast majority of them are far more talented (and probably a bit less lazy) than I am. But you know what? There are also plenty of sensitively made, finely acted television shows being produced, but that hasn’t stopped them from commissioning another series of “I’m A Celebrity Get Me Out Of Here!”, has it?
I’m not getting ahead of myself, though. Oh, no. For however long I will continue to wake up in the middle of the night with the Wiggles’ classic “Fruit Salad (Yummy Yummy)” playing on a loop in my head, I will NOT be attempting to write a best-selling novel. Or prize-winning short story. Or semi-comprehensible snippet of flash fiction. Nep. But I do figure that by getting back into a regular* blogging routine (*and by regular, I mean sporadic) I may at least sharpen the writing side of my brain and just get a general sense of being back in the game. Because you have to be in it to win it. Or even to get a tick on your attendance record. Which is what life’s all about, really. Here lies Joe Author. His writing wasn’t much cop, but at least he showed up. After all, nothing comes to those who sit on the couch all day eating Cheezels and watching Dr Phil. Except perhaps Centrelink benefits. And heart disease.
So, while I’m still knee deep in nappies and Peppa Pig branded products (seriously, is there any item in this world you can’t buy with Peppa’s snout emblazoned across it?), I’m also powering up my laptop and giving it a fair go. I don’t promise that my blog posts will be informative or entertaining, or that I won’t forget to post my next blog entry because I’ve been too busy picking play dough crumbs out of the carpet, but anyway, here I am, back on the blog. Run good people, run while you still can!