I have a problem.
All my inspiration for writing comes to me in the middle of the night.
THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT.
Like, right after I feed my little girl and tuck her back into her crib...I crawl back into my bed, and bam! It hits me. 1902182 things I want to write about.
My mind goes crazy. Crazy! I cannot get it to stop.
So, in efforts to get my brain to shut down again and go to sleep before my darling daughter wakes up for the 394083 time that night (okay, normally 2x), I whip out my iPhone, and in the notes section I write down a tiny blurb about what I want to write about.
My sis-in-love, Kesh, who is a mommy of two told me that writing down your thoughts is one of the best ways to get your brain to let you fall asleep when dealing with mommy insomnia issues. Because, you can't let yourself fall asleep for fear you'll forget whatever it is you're thinking about. Makes.total.sense, right?
The problem is? At freakin' 2am....4am...whenever I write down said blog ideas that keep my brain forever churning, they really are not that good of ideas, at all. But for some reason? My lazy brain at that hour of the morning has me convinced its awesome.
I don't know what the heck I'm thinking about, or making myself believe is some bright!idea!, but it's totally not that interesting, at all.
So, for instance...as per my iPhone Notes app, I could tell you about:
-Our incredibly new, annoying and LOUD neighbors that moved in on a 2!Year!LEASE! [Good, Lord, help me!] I could tell you about how sad I am that my other neighbors had to move to DC due to a job situation, and their baby girl who was born the SAME day, in the SAME hospital as Emeline, who was bound to be her BFF also had to leave. And how we never, ever, ever heard them EVER in the 2 years we've lived here. And suddenly? New neighbors move in, and POOF! Loudness! Not cool. [We own an end unit of a townhome, and share one wall with said neighbors...]
-I could tell you about last night when in my dream, my husband pointed to a jar and said, "Look, a bug!", and in real life, I JUMPED UP OUT OF BED, threw the covers off me, started to yell at my sleeping husband (who never woke up) and only THEN did I realize it was a dream. Bugs freak me out, yo.
-I could tell you about the random bursts of energy that are hitting me at 10pm at night, having me scrubbing out cabinets, organizing, re-arranging rooms, etc. I could tell you how it feels shockingly similar to nesting. I could also tell you to NOT get any ideas. We are not ready for another kid and NO I am not pregnant.
-I could tell you about my first post-baby experience at my gynecologist the other day. But, I think I should spare you the details. You can thank me now.
-I could tell you about our new solid-foods journey and how it's going smashingly well, but somehow, it's still not meaning more sleep. I'm at a loss, but also at a place where I'm kind of done with advice about it. I've taken advice, but now I'm just going to read a book and try to implement one thing. Mom fail.
So, now that I've told you about the things swirling around in my brain at 3am that I feel will make awesomely, hilarious posts...
I give up.
They are not that funny and/or amusing.
...and I'm spent.
PS: have you heard of the crazy blogomania giveaway event going on today? If you have time, check it out.