i am blogging again

Something about three children and too many interests means I keep coming to blog but end up distracted, or pulled away, or out of ideas, or simply out of practice. I’ve written the first lines of seven or eight posts and all of them linger in the drafts folder, because when I come back to them I’ve lost my train of thought. I still don’t want to give up on this thing though. I still want to be a writer and it seems as thought after my journal, which I have kept up with, blogging is the easiest way to flex the writer’s muscles.

I read (and subsequently lost) an article somewhere about the difficulties of being a highly creative individual, because having many interests and skills means that either you flit from passion to passion and never stick with anything, or you have to let some of them drop away. I am wondering how to figure that out for myself. I love too many things – writing, drawing, garment sewing, quilting, knitting, web design, photography… and even if I had no job and no kids, I would still not have enough time to perfect them all. So what do I give up? What do I do when a new interest is piqued and I chase off after it like Lucy with a butterfly? I don’t know. I love the whole package of a handmade life, where I only wear clothing I’ve made myself (right down to the bra and undies), and then I extrapolate to making the wardrobes of all five of us, plus making all our food from scratch and then I’ve fallen down the rabbit hole again and I’m exhausted and order pizza.

I have zero answers yet. I’m on a bit of a knitting hiatus after Lent, where I knit every day (minus two days where I sewed instead) but I’ve picked up some sewing projects. I am back on a writing kick, hence the blogging return. I have all sorts of imaginary projects on the go. I was going to post some of the things I’ve finished this year so far, but the time got away from me again and now I have to quickly wrap up and then run to school to pick up Lucy. Part of the solution to my creative dilemma will be this sort of thing, slotting my endeavours into the spaces where they fit between naps and school runs and soccer practices and piano lessons. That’s the beauty of the little life I have – it’s as varied and changeable as it is mundane and repetitive. On the good days, I can even love it.

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