Runaway Muse

I've been in transition. I've gone from 'puke my guts out I haven't had more than 2 hours of sleep in a row for almost 2 YEARS' to, 'I only had to wake up 3 times last night for the kids'.

What I'm saying is I'm getting slightly more sleep... and with it my creative energy is flowing back. I'm still aware of my limitations, so I made a deal with myself not to pressure my muse to preform in any way. That means no structure, no deadlines.

It's been wondrously fun. My muse has been running from on project to the next like a kid on her first day in preschool. I've been writing songs, sharpening my portraiture work, and teaching myself new curious skills like brewing jam and reupholstering furniture.

The jam turned out great. I want to burn my kitchen bar stools.

I'm also teetering on the brink of not always being the most patient, engaged mother. Nothing like having a little 1 year-old minx confetti-fy the foam padding you've just hot glued into place on the freaking kitchen bar stools for the 5th time... to make you want to want to snap. And yet-she's just trying to help.

And I just want to write that Governor Generals Award novel.

But my kids need me, they need me to be more than a just slave to my muse. And they need me to help them find theirs.

And my muse needs to cool her heels a bit...

I suspect this is a struggle I will have for my entire life (unbridled uninterrupted creativity versus the work and focus it requires to be an engaged mother/wife/friend). Balance, I think, is nothing more than delusion. The best I can hope for is to trapeze from one extreme to another.

So tonight... I'm going to kiss my babies goodnight, and ask my husband about his day.

And then I'm going to eat whipped cream and binge watch Netflix.