What (Not) Blogging Has Taught Me

I've blogged ten times since I began blogging. In the beginning, I had ambitions of blogging once a day. Ha! Here's what this experience has taught me: it's hard to write. The actual writing part isn't hard for me--it's the sitting down to write part that gets me every time. Once I'm here, I love to spew all my thoughts, ideas, and opinions. I think all the time about what I'd like to write. I just can't seem to get to my desk to do it. With four kids and all their activities, a husband who is working on his doctorate and who works all the time, a dog, two hamsters, a fish (named John), a house, never-ending laundry, and a part time job with full time hours, it seems that writing often ends up on the back burner. When the kids go to bed at 8:30, I have a choice to make. Should I start some laundry? Should I read a novel? Should I organize the paperwork that's taking over my kitchen? Should I read a book about improving my writing style? Should I scrapbook a few pages? Should I organize my scrapbooking area? Should I write some overdue thank you notes? Should I eat Oreos and watch mindless TV? Should I blog? Should I work on my own novel? Should I curl up in my bed and find some glorious shut eye? Too often, the Oreos and sleep win the debate. That's why I'm overweight and under-published. My life is not really suited to writing, but my soul needs to write like my body needs water. It's definitely a conundrum. I'd like to write about it more, but I need to go paint my daughter's newly refurbished vanity. And I need to hang her border. And I need to start some laundry...