Linking up with my Friday peeps today at Five Minute Friday.
This should be a post about how every day I am practicing intentionality in my parenting.
But instead I would rather talk about my cats.
For the past few days, I have been under the weather.
Note: This phrase bothers me. What does it mean? Is the weather a big blanket? Is it the boss of me? Do I need to ask it to move over?
Anyhow. I have had this weird sickness that keeps rotating slowly through all of my body systems like a wrecking ball. And whoa, now I’ve got Miley Cyrus in this post which really proves the point that I am a bit woozy.
I have had a lot of time to ponder things.
In my job, couches, and blankets, and weather-related idioms are common. I write, and therefore sitting down is kind of part of the deal.
But, the trouble here is that my brain has been wrapped in the funk of sickness, and my writing has been sort of like this:
Article 1 on my desktop:
Children hard and parents don’t like them.
Once there was a woman. And.
Another attempt at any other article, take your pick:
It was a dark and stormy night. And?
And so on. When I am well, and all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed*, writing from home still doesn’t have a solid structure to it. Most days I get up, work out, read a little bible because I need the Lord after working out, drink forty cups of coffee, and then boom, I sit and write. And write some more. Plus, more writing. Then, I really mix it up and I re-read what I wrote, hate it, edit, and then write some more.
Mix this all up with fun household chores and me saying, “Do you need to go outside?” to my dog about five million times, and you get the idea.
The past few days? With the sickness? I get up.
Yes, that’s all. Sometimes I drink one cup of coffee, but since one of those systems that has been affected by this horrible bug is my digestive one… coffee tends to bounce around in there and cause problems.
I have never felt the sting of wasted time more acutely than when I started writing “for real” with my first book, Bottled. Every day was in my head, just me and my words, and found out something rather daunting: I am totally lazy. I am just not very good at a structured schedule.
This is fine and all, because I allowed inspiration to drive me, so writing at 11 pm while both boys are smushed up against me, mouth-breathing, in one bed because they had a bad dream, together, simultanously, and I have no boundaries? That was a writing thing.
Also, writing a blog post while I cook dinner that is brilliant and funny and is all just in my head? Also a thing. And I mean the blog post, not the dinner. The dinner was mediocre at best.
Writing an article that is due tomorrow, tomorrow? Totally a thing.
When I got sick, the deadlines didn’t offer me some Tylenol and left me totally alone. Also, I had no inspiration because I am sick, dude. My inspiration was shoved up under the weather, along with most of my excretory system. This was unpleasant.
And so, I give you this:
This is not actually my cat. This is some preshus cuddums I found on the internets. I wasn’t able to use a picture of any of my cats being totally lazy. They’re all sleeping upstairs and I’m too tired to walk up there.
So, did you know? Cats embrace laziness.
They don’t care. If they need a nap – they find an impossible location and it’s ON.
What have I learned from this? What is the furry take-away?
Dude. If you are sick, be sick. Rest. Email your editors ask for an extra day. Drink hot tea and sleep in cute, furry poses that make people squeal, “Ohhh! Preshus!” and lunge for their cameras so they can post you on the instagrams.
No. No, I don’t suggest the pictures part. Me and my wack-job bodily functions have not been all that photogenic lately.
Intentionality is intentionality, even when your intention is to do absolutely nothing but drink clear fluids for three days. It’s ok.
This illness has made me miss the days when I actually had the brain capacity to write.I won’t waste that. My intention is to make those days count. It’s a great reminder. Perhaps that’s why we get the flu – to remind us about how, once, we were well, and how grateful we were for those days, when we could walk down the hall in a straight line without feeling like we’re floating, in a dead fish kind of way.
So I woke up this morning and I felt… better. Like, not totally over the weather, but just…next to it. Like, the weather and I were giving a side hug. And thus, this post. It’s not a Pulitzer, but I’ll take it. A woman who writes about cats on a regular basis is not a Pulitzer woman. She’s just funny, sometimes, and writes things that hopefully make people smile.
And that has always been my intention.
Oh, and also this. The best explanation of intention that I know.
*Note: this phrase also bothers me. What does it mean?