I can’t write a blog. I’ve thought about writing a new blog. I’ve almost–twice–in the past few days sat down to write a new blog but the fingers won’t type. The brain’s not firing anything anymore. And I’m afraid of posting how blah I am because someone might perceive that I’m down, and I’m not down.
What I am is sleepy.
And a wee bit homesick for the old Jane, the one with energy and ideas and creativity and passion. The Jane that I inhabit now is big and beginning to get crazy back pains and eyelids feel perpetually weighted as though I didn’t get enough sleep and frankly, I’m sick of talking about pregnancy and being pregnant. I’m sick of having little on my mind but getting the remodel finished so baby has a room and oldest son has a room and I am dying to get the crib out of storage and the new crib sheets washed and the newborn clothes washed. I want to get on with life, to the next stage of it as right now this feels like an elephant pregnancy–endless–and I’m ready to have my mojo back.
I need my mojo back.
As at this point, I don’t have a book, and I’m not actively writing. I don’t know why I don’t write. I think I’m just too busy yawning.
But happily, cold is gone and the crazy, busy, long weekend of 3 days of all day water polo games at the Spring Siesta Tournmanet is over, and Surfer Ty arrives late Thursday night for a handful of days. I’ll be so glad to see him. Hopefully he can find food for us for dinner and maybe I can get him to rub my back where it aches and fingers crossed all our doctor appointments a week from today will be good. Our Mac is a really little baby and while doctors aren’t ‘worried’ they keep wanting to see us and measure Mac and chart his growth and it gets me anxious. I feel Mac moving all the time, which is good, but enough with the ultrasounds and appointments. I just want him out and in my arms where I can see him and hold him and know that he’s okay.
Maybe this is where my mojo’s gone. To making Mac.
In that case, losing my mojo’s a beautiful thing.