Indiana Momma

I watched a documentary about the real "Indiana Jones." It got me thinking. How are mothers like Indiana Jones?

For me, I am on the search for a "Holy Grail," that sacred peace that will preserve my sanity as dirty dishes fly at me like rolling boulders and I trip over cars and trains like booby-traps in a dark cave. All in a quest for that one thing that eludes me - time for myself- actually guilt-free time for myself.
A daily quest that should be easy to find everyday but more often than not I crawl into bed having not found it. 

Time to read.
Time to pray on my knees.
Time to blog, quilt, make felt flowers.
Time to exercise without 45 pound weights deciding to jump on me as I make feeble attempts at crunches.

These sweet moments of bliss usually just get started 5 minutes before nap time dramatically ends.

It always seems more important to be doing something else dishes, laundry intermixed with facebook and news posts. The latter two suck me in with a force too hard to resist for someone slightly lonely, terribly tired and definitely procrastinating on figuring out what to have for dinner.

It serves more as a pseudo-time for me - speaking specifically of facebook- because it fills a small void for connecting with people but also brews up a terrible case of mommy-guilt.

Seriously something has to give, some new schedule or paradigm shift needs to happen because unlike Indiana's quest for archeological treasure my quest is not so out of reach if I could only manage my time better and or use a little self-control.