Outta My Grasp

Between requests for snacks, lunch, sips of coffee, and requests to play Peter Pan, I’m grabbing five minutes to write.

I should be playing Peter Pan.

But I’ve been up at 4 am thanks to a viscious combo of nursing and insomnia and a husband’s alarm that hates me and  torments me by chirping without fail each time my eyelids fluttered down to rest.  My whining was in full swing around 7:30 am.  It sounded like this:

Me to Little Friend (stepping past her to grab Little One who was choking on saliva or milk or dust bunnies): “Excuse me!”

Little Friend to Big Friend: “Mama’s angry at me!”

Me to Big Friend: “All I said was excuse me!!!”

I’m ashamed to say the whine in my voice was a thousand times more strident than anything Little Friend has dished out to me.  Big Friend, rightfully so, looked a bit kerfluffled at my 32-going-on-3-years-old meltdown.

This is all just to say that my writing, like my withering ability to act like a grown up in the face of a bad morning, has been out of my grasp recently.

I sit down to write something droll.  Pithy.  Insightful.  Heck, I’d settle for something slightly mundane.  And the right words seem to swagger away from my fingers; I’m left with sentences better left in my draft folder.  It’s all just kind of meh.

I’m hoping the writer’s block will unclog soon.  Unfortunately, it appears that my attitude is taking inspiration from my flagging writing ability, in which case, heaven help those who reside under my roof.

Here’s hoping some Tinkerbell fairy dust will work some magic on me this morning.

In the five minutes I took to write this post, Little Friend has managed to wake up Little One from a nap while procuring my rain boots to clomp around the house and dragging her suitcase behind her.  It’s out of my grasp, people.  Is there such a thing as a “Z game”, ’cause I’m as far from my A game as I can get today.  All the same, I’m grateful to Lisa Jo Baker’s 5 Minute Friday prompt that’s wrung words out of this withered soul!