Sitting down to make a daily entry in this blog I am gripped with a fear of not knowing what to write. There was no time to go online first and find the word of the day or the quote of the day. I pulled out the book I use for my group Daily Writing Practice, which is A Writer's Book of Days by Judy Reeves, and the prompt for today was; In the heat of the afternoon. Sitting here with jumper on, slippers and socks, it seems unlikely I'm going to write about some hot arvo, Aussie slang for afternoon. What can I write about then?

Perhaps how difficult it is to concentrate at times on writing. Right now my daughter is reading her Human Biology text book out loud to the baby. Her voice lacks that interesting up and down play and the baby is getting a little restless. My eyelids keep wanting to close. It's times like this where concentration dwindles into a puddle at my feet. No, that's me in the puddle. Perhaps I could write about when I get time to write.

since I had the baby, some five months ago now, I've written in my journal any chance I got. I took my journal with me to the hospital and scribbled whenever I got a moment. There weren't many at first, but I just grabbed them as they came along. Home again and it felt impossible. I don't think there was a moment when I could write at first. For one thing I was simply too tired. I'd get a chance to write and just nod off to sleep. I knew I could do little more than just write personal stuff. As the baby settled into something of a routine, that's a laughable statement, I was able to grab longer portions of time to write in. Whenever I was at the shops and the baby would fall asleep I'd sit in a cafe and just sip a long black and write in my journal.

Then there was the help hubby needed with this course. This could be another long story, but the short version is that he is dyslexic and needs extra help with everything he does, especially when it comes to reading and writing. I'd need to read out text book information, reread it and read it again. There were the assessments, too. He needed help with me telling him what they wanted him to do. You know how it is. Sometimes it's just easier to do things yourself than to explain exactly how to go about it. We'd also need to go over all the work afterwards to check it was all something hubby understood. We'd make certain changes and adapt the pieces according to his input, but essentially, I was the one writing up these essays, etc. At least I can say I have been writing, just not working on stuff I've really wanted to do. At least his marks have been very good. Each time he brings a marked essay I eagerly check for the mark received and comments by the teacher.

This has been an intense and difficult time of my life. My daughter, now 17, was also going through her mid-year exams a couple of weeks ago and also had the school ball, for which I made her a dress. My eldest son has been in rebellion against his dad for most of this year, too. The whole thing has been far more than exhausting. The whole thing has been beyond what I can humanly deal with. I've cried frequently in bed at night so no one else is aware. I've cried in parent rooms across the suburbs as I've tried to cope with all these demands on my life. All while capturing any spare moment to write my personal thoughts. I've read back some of the stuff I wrote and it's given me insight into my own personality and the pressures I've really been under.

I keep another daily blog on my daily life. I have a steady readership and love the community of diarists there. I try to write in my journal each day, too. But I've learnt to be flexible about these things. If I have to skip a day, I'm not under any stress. I just skip it and try to add the details I've left out in the next entry. I also scrawl out some bedtime thoughts. This is just a personal thing I like to do, but I've kept it up for the most part, especially in the last three months. At night I get time to write entries to this blog. Or perhaps I'll grab a moment in the arvo, like now. Anyway, my time is up. I'm out of here.