I’m doing this 5 minute writing challenge again..and late. Again. Same old song and dance, just sort of new move in the dance each week. Today, posting on Saturday morning. And you know what? That’s ok. I take Five Minute Friday as a suggestion to start thinking about writing. Only takes me a day or so to react. Yes, I’m aware of the irony, and the name Five Minute Friday. But, regadless-I’m still giving myself grace and yet also a pat on a back for doing it.
So, moving on-
A reminder in case you’ve missed it, this is the Friday Five Minute writing challenge, and the details are below in case you want to play sometime too-
This is a weekly writing “game” from my bloggy friend Lisa-Jo Baker, who blogs (and writes heart-breakingly, beautiful words and stories) at http://lisajobaker.com/
So, here’s the challenge, should you accept it: you write for 5 minutes with freedom like you have no fear or shame. And then you have to be brave (or pretend to be) and link up to her blog. Encouraging the writer who links up before you is part of the deal, too. This last rule is crucial, as we all need to encourage others. Why encourage another writer? Because at one point or another in our lives, we all need encouraging too.
Each week is a new word, a new thought starter, and you have 5 minutes to write….and are you ready? go-
I’m frustrated, ready to shake off the day, the last emotional meltdown my toddler had makes me just want to sit on the couch, be still for a moment and let go of the frazzled seams of the end of the day and get into my book.
I get cozy, grab my book, my water and head to the couch.
Ahhh, my mind and body says. Mind you, I only have one child and another on the way, this is going to get very interesting how I handle this with 2 children, 2 emotional children and a mom who’s emotional endurance is akin to that of a couch potato’s endurance for a triathlon.
And then the dog needs to go out. Again.
And then the child needs attending to. Again.
And then the dog needs back in. Again.
And then I need more water. Again.
Again, again, again some days, it feels like that’s all I do. Get up again, sit down again, try to relax again, hoping for this huge block of time where no one interrupts me or needs me, a la Virgina Wolf with a room of her own. With perhaps a lock on the door. Maybe, just maybe, sound proof walls, but you didn’t hear me say that.
My agains are not pretty.
But I still smile, trying again, as you know what? Even in my mess of frustration and bad attitude, He reaches for me, loves me, finds me, again. Again and again.