The impossible.

It’s 9 p.m. on a Wednesday night. My two-week summer staycation is officially in full-swing. Riley has been knocked out for more than an hour; neither of us are sick. There is yummy food in the house, I’ve finished editing 4 out of my 5 big projects (only a handful of pages to go!), and I’ve managed more than a few good deeds for the day.

There’s a couple TV shows on my queue for me to catch up on, but really, after taking a long soak in the tub with some bath bombs and hunks of cucumber over my eyes, I’m all relaxed-out. Next on the agenda? Making fliers for my editing business! (I desperately need to drum up some more business before the school semester ends in the States!) Then, working on my fiction-writing.

This, right here? The ability to check everything off my to-do list without losing (too much) sleep? It’s exactly the opposite of what I thought motherhood would be like, and I keep on waiting for the other shoe to drop.

[NOTE: Just as I was typing that last sentence, Riley woke up, looked at me, drowsily picked up his bottle, and went back to sleep.]

A-writing and a-flier-making, I go!

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