Slacker...Thy name is Jennifer

So, I've been rather lax in keeping up with the whole website/blog dealie.  The last month and a half have been busier than I would have liked, but what can you do?  I've been dealing with a huge transition in my job duties at the office, the complexities of trying to keep a toddler in bed at night without involving duct tape or the authorities, the anniversary of a death and the actual death of a friend, trying to write one book and finish the final touches on another...the list goes on. 

And it's now drive-in movie theater season, something I've missed out on since 2007.  So there's that. 

I'm realizing that there just aren't enough hours in the day, not if I want to sleep for some of them, anyway.  Michael refuses to stay in bed at night - there are at least five occurrences nightly of me or Aaron yelling down the hallway for him to get back in bed or we hear little-boy giggles in the hallway as he sits on the floor and sticks his fingers in the ferret cage or feels the need to hide behind the fishtank stand.  I never knew that watching TV at night or trying (futilely) to write was interesting to a three year old. 

I've reached the level of frustration where I burst into tears last Friday night because he refuses to sleep and I just didn't know what to do with myself.  We've tried a number of methods to get him to stay in bed.  They work for one night and then the next...epic fail.  And apparently now this is translating to weekend naps.  Aces.  This past Sunday I spent two hours trying to get him to nap.  Aaron had gone out to lunch with Shayne and I had a few blessed hours to try to work on a book.  Well, it went right to hell.  There was no napping.  None.  Not even for a minute.  Aside from blinking, that wretched little kid didn't even close his eyes. 

At one point, which almost pushed me over the proverbial edge, he came trotting out into the living room to show me the lovely paint job/faux tattoo sleeves he'd given himself with the little kid (thankfully washable) markers that Aunt Karen had given him for his first birthday.  One arm was green, the other brown and red.  I can only reason that this was Aunt Karen's way of saying hello to us.  He still isn't ready for those markers, lady, but I'm glad you've kept your sense of humor.  Rather than tear my hair out of my head (first instinct), I just laughed and busted out the bucket o' baby wipes and thank goodness it came right off. 

This alone is enough to keep my nerves taught as a mofo and then adding in the commuting, the working, it's just ridiculous.  I'd like to go back to working out in the morning but lately I can't bring myself to even get up on time, let alone early to exercise.  Forget reading a book - and I have about six on my bookshelf that I've bought and have yet to crack the spine of a single one.

So bear with me a little.  I'm working hard to try to finish up the final touches on Letters to My Child so that can get out there.  That book being as near and dear to me as it is isn't getting out of my hot little hands until I'm good and ready to send it off into the world.  It has to be right; it has to be perfect.  And it's not perfect yet. 

I'm trying, peeps, just like everyone else in the universe.  So I'm not in hiding or on the lam or anything like that, just a total slacker in the whole blogging department.  Not that I think anyone was overly concerned that my drivel was absent over the last month and a half.  I'm pretty sure you can all sleep at night.

Here's hoping I can, too.