Sometimes.
There are certain benefits to living in a small village, in huts, without streets. For one, there are always other women around...bathing their children in buckets, smacking their laundry on rocks, cooking their rice over the fire. There is always noise and activity. There is always distraction.
Of course, the disadvantages of village living asI imagine it, namely malaria, lack of sanitation, abject poverty. I don't think I could get used to those.
When N is napping is when I am at my worst, although I so desperately need my "down time." As I'm getting her settled for nap my body is achingly saying, "It's almost mommy rest time." But once I have the time, I find myself putzing around the house. Or spending entirely too much time doing MOMS Club junk or, now, writing whiney posts like this.
I guess I'm not whining; this would be stating facts. I think this is just me. I've always been this way. Daggonit, I like to be entertained by other people. My brother was the type of kid who could play in his room for days with his Legos. I was the type of kid who loved when my nearly crippled grandma came over because since she could barely walk, she had no choice but to play dolls with me or let me play beauty salon and fix her hair.
Yes, I could turn on the tv, but that doesn't cut it (unless it is Battlestar Gallactica, and I have to wait for D because he likes that too). I could read a book, but I only like to read my books before bed. I could work on my holiday cards, but I don't really want to. I could practice my guitar, but again....don't wanna.
Oh Geez, my own blog is boring me. I am posting about being bored...and yet, I'm not willing to do anything to resolve it. I'm just over-analyzing the boredom.
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