Mr HB and I went for a walk the other day, and for once he wanted to talk about my writing (this never happens). It turns out he wanted to check whether I still wanted to be a writer. ‘It doesn’t seem to make you happy. At all,’ he said.
I was a bit shocked! But then I remembered. His perception is based on me whining: another rejection, another novel that will have to go in a drawer because it doesn’t quite work, another opportunity that went to someone else, another year with not much or no money.
So I reminded him that I don’t do this for money (just as well!). And I told him that, contrary to appearances, I love to write. It keeps me sane. That feeling, when I get into flow and an hour goes by …
It is not the right time of year for having the children at home. With Valentines smack in the middle, I predict the divorce rate will rise…
Instead of braving a range of elements: rain, wind, snow … we set up pillow forts and hid under blankets with our devices. I worked out I could watch Netflix on the laptop with my headphones – score! The kids morphed wing chairs into gamer chairs by moving them in front of the TV, and built more forts, this time in the Minecraft ether.
We’re economising due to the impending house move, so we treated ourselves to Morrison’s make your own pizza instead of takeaway, Next in Fashion with the curtains closed instead of the cinema.
Valentines worked out OK for me: Mr HB was off to Aldi. I received a bunch of reluctant roses.
You’re one of five girls!
That must have been quite the queue for the bathroom,
do you all get on,
who is the funny one?
A lot of bitching, I bet,
stealing make up, swapping clothes:
how did your dad cope?
Who has the most money,
are you jealous of the one who is the most successful, professionally
who is the favourite?
Not all girls spend hours in the bathroom.
Not all girls hate each other.
Not all girls are funny (but yes, we all claim to be the funny one).
Not all girls bitch about each other.
Not all girls steal make up and clothes.
Not all dads need a son to complete themselves.
Not all girls equate money with success.
Not all girls fail to be proud of their siblings’ achievements –
and we all agree on the favourite.
I give in. I really do.
We now have two enforced periods of no-screen: Wednesdays after school (which is now library day) and Sunday mornings.
My oldest will actually come to church, despite their firm atheism, just to help the time go by. This week I asked them to make me another picture challenge for a blog post. They weren’t happy with the drawing, but asked me to recreate it for them.
So here we are:
This is my life. Every minute that is not a scheduled screen free minute is now spent on a screen. Going for a walk has become a mental battle before it gets anywhere near physically punishing. You don’t want to know what the screen time graphs I get from Microsoft look like (yeah, cheers for that, Microsoft).
I’m not the only one, am I?