I am my own worst enemy.
No-one expects more of me than I do of myself.
I have too much on my plate and I feel bad if I don't put my hand up for more.
I just joined the parent committee for Zig's kindergarten. I am in charge of Grants.
I signed up to be a parent helper for the reading sessions at Luca's school once a month. I really should have selected fortnightly.
I am organising Harlow's baptism. Exactly a month later, she will turn one. Another celebration to consider.
I won't bore you by listing the million and one things that are involved in running a household of five people. You already know it all. You are faced with the same challenges. I know I am not unique.
And then there is this space. It is always on my mind. I fall asleep writing posts in my head. Many of them never make it to this page.
I know I've sung this sorrowful tune before, too. I am sorry.
It's just that I realise I would be a better mummy if I wasn't a mummy blogger.
I feel as though I am in a constant state of chaos because I do not have time for everything. It's Sunday night and instead of sitting on the couch watching stupid tv with my lover, I am blogging about how blogging is burying me alive.
But how do I walk away from everything I have built here? I don't want to walk away.
But it would be one less pressure in my life right now. A significant freeing up of my time.
I don't know what this post is about. Harlow is sick with a cold AND teething, and then there's my questionable mental state.
I have to make some adjustments. That might mean cutting back on the number of posts I do. If I knew I only had to publish two pieces a week that might help. At the moment, I have set myself up to always fall short. I can't keep putting myself through that.
I need to try something else.
I hope you'll stick around while I figure it out.