To want is to b*tch


I want to take my daughters to the park. I want to cook fresh, healthy food for them. I want to make lovely dresses for them. I want to bake cakes and master cookies and create works of edible art. I want to start blogging again. I want to write a second book. I want to make yummy food. I want to have a lovely, clean house. I want to sort out my cupboard, the kids cupboard, Sam’s cupboard, the linen cupboard, the crockery and utensils cupboard, the cupboard-that- is- full- but- I- don’t- know- what’s- in- it*. I want to read more books. I want to read the books I’ve already bought on my Kindle. I want to watch and do the various lessons I’ve bought on Craftsy. I want to read the news. I want to Facebook my friends and Pinterest for inspiration. I want to talk to my parents (…more than just “how are you? Bye”) I want to do art with the girls and take them dancing and swimming and for gymnastics. I want to go out and socialise. I want to remember my friends birthdays etc. I want to get better at sending people gifts. I want to moisturise my body every day. I want to wear socks so my feet don’t get so dry. And condition my hair. I want to cleanse-tone-moisturise daily. I want to have nice hands. I want to have a Lara Croft body and eat cake. I want to exercise. I want to look good in the clothes I already have. That I cannot find. I want to organise my cupboard. I want to reorganise the guest room and get all the pictures/art framed. I want to plant the freesias and lettuce. I want to paint the Elsa canvas and finish the Winnie Pooh cross-stitch. I want to deep sleep.

I want to fit it all in 24 hours. I don’t want to lose my mind.  I don’t know what to do.

(*I’ve already sorted the Baking Stuff cupboard and the pantry, yay!)
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