My life has been these past few weeks. Chaotic in a mind-frazzling way. Because I’ve felt a bit of weight on my shoulders from the deadline and my ears have been getting tired at the sounds of constant screaming and sobbing due to this. Combine the deadline and clingy bub together and there I have a pretty good explanation as to why journalism and mothering don’t always mix.

Thank-you so much for all your comments re. my professional writing work. So sweet of you to care and offer advice. And it’s so nice to know that there are a few more journalists/mothers/bloggers out there too.

Did I come to a conclusion? Well, no. Last week I was in the midst of writing for a big project that had a looming deadline and I couldn’t pull out. So I let the washing and the dishes and the bed making and the whole house go while I typed frantically in the few spare hours when Ché slept. Amongst the stress and the tension I managed to complete the task and get positive feedback from my editor. I remembered how good it feels to complete a piece of writing and to ‘hand it in’. It’s also rewarding to see my name in print – but this job I’ve been offered means I’ll be writing as a ghost most of the time (ie. writing under another name or writing for a company).

Sometimes it’s hard to send your art into the world and not have your name on the tag.

It’s also amazed me in the past few weeks how deeply connected I feel to Ché at the moment. Perhaps because he has reached another level of understanding where he talks and points and listens…I have trouble being away from him. He’s such a joy to be around and I don’t want to miss out on anything. And I know that this writing job will require my full attention. And I’m not sure I can give it that right now.

I’m still juggling the pros and cons in my head while listening to everything that Daniel has to say too. He always says the right thing – even if, at the time, I don’t want to hear it. He’s my realist, my perfectionist. He’s a do-er and I’m a dreamer and together we’re pretty good. I’m so thankful that he goes off to work each day so that I can be a stay-at-home-mum. I really am. I’m even more thankful when he walks in the door each afternoon and the three of us are together again.

And then I forget about the chaos and settle in to the comfiness of our family and I remember what a good number 3 really is. It’s better than any sentence I’ve ever written – that’s for sure.