“But I don’t have the time!” I yelled.
“So you need to make time!”
We were arguing…sorry…sensibly debating, why I didn’t have time to blog.
Arhh! I hate that saying, ‘make time’ What does that mean? How do I make time?
I can make decent lemon curd sandwiches when the kids can’t decide what they want for breakfast. I can even, sometimes, stretch to making pancakes if I am in a good mood and am up at 6am. And sometimes, sometimes, I can even make the beds before leaving for school.
Mr Dear Emma and I often fantasize about what we could get done if we didn’t have to sleep. We would pad about the house to soft music and low lights doing all the things we never get round to doing. Him making more homemade wine, writing all those stories he has, reading all those books he’s amassed. Me making a freezer full of healthy meals, so I would never be stuck at dinner times, and ridding the lawn of dandelions. Together ticking things off the to-do list, Freeing up space on Sky+, replacing that broken banister spindle, watching those DVD box sets still in the cellophane, completing tax returns, shopping around for cheaper house insurance.
I hear Margaret Thatcher could survive on less than 3 hours sleep a night. Some might say that, judging by the job she did, she really should have had more – but I bet she had really cheap house insurance.
Anyway, this is me blogging the only way I know how. Squeezed in between school runs, cutting out, sewing, cursing when the needle jams, 3 day event-ing – not the horse variety, but the Designer/Makers fairs, invoicing, posting, emailing…..blah blah…Oh, and making quick after school teas from the contents of our fridge. Thank God for quick cook pasta and pesto!
Dear Emma’s blog won’t be about me. Who on earth wants to know about me? It’ll be about having an idea and making it happen, about an inspiration and making it real, step by step, mistake by mistake, skirt tucked in knickers, witchy-warts and all. It could be ugly, but then, surely there’s beauty in that too?
So here is me making time to sit down and write a bit of blog. Yes, there’s toys on the stairs, ironing in the basket and the milk still on the step. We slept in as usual but hey, I’m not paid to run the country.