So I haven't really been blogging since David's passing. Didn't feel like it and also, didn't have time, in between full baby, editorial and druidic duties. My posts in The Sun have also been reduced to once a week. I'd like to write more but these days, one just does not seem to have the peace needed to mull on a topic.
But a significant change is on its merry way, my friends. By the end of this year, I shall be calling it quits. Throwing in the towel. Making the choice – not a difficult one, I might add – to be a full-time mother and wife.
A sudden decision? Hardly.
Some of my friends are shocked at the idea, but I have been somewhat halfway there all these years, working from home and all. And it's not so bad, this desperate housewife wannabe thing. I get to live in shorts and come up with home projects. Try all those recipes I've been storing up. Perhaps even learn how to operate that new-fangled washing machine once again.
Why am I doing this? I feel that the next few years of my kids' lives (the first few are just as precious but they tend to bestow more favour upon food and sleep so the job is less enjoyable and gratifying) are crucial. Raeven is three and asking questions about almost everything her toddler mind finds conceivably curious. It is prudent that I should be the one to answer them lest my maid does more than her job – and that is, my job – for me.
The Hubby agrees, and hence, must take up the challenge of bringing home the whole piece of bacon, and not just the fat. And I will, for the first time in 16 years, stop bringing home anything.
Well, maybe I will doodle once in a while for my supper. Perhaps even – gasp – blog more.
Yes, bad habits are hard to break.