Late night blog posts aren't always the best idea.  My thoughts aren't always coherent and if I'm being totally honest there is a bag of popcorn on my bed next to my new desk and a glass of wine I'm debating finishing because the wine isn't very good.   I should go to sleep, particularly since my two beautiful sons decided last night between 3 am and 6 am was the perfect time to be awake, especially since their dad is gone on a hiking trip. 

However, I have been reflecting quite a bit on the last 36 hours and the significance they have had in my business.  I have three other things I need to blog but I know I will regret it if I don't get these words down.

Yesterday morning I woke up and despite a rough night of sleep for both Noah and myself (10 month sleep regression is a real thing) I was excited.  I had a babysitter coming at 8:30 and I was about to have seven solid hours of work.  I set up a desk next to my bed and decorated it a little, it was cute.  I had window light and a good attitude and I was  under the impression I was ready.

After some cleaning up and breakfast with my boys and a trip to the store so our sitter could have lunch and I could get a latte, I was ready.  Look how ready I was. 

I started the day strong, editing, picking through images for an upcoming blog post.  My computer was running really slowly so I decided to do some administrative work during that time.  I emailed and I made lists and I texted my friend Tonie to congratulate her on her last wedding of the season before her baby girl is born.  I could faintly make out the laughter of my oldest son as he was listening to an audiobook for the hundredth time and I was so grateful I had tears in my eyes.  I had finally gotten what I had wanted, time.

I posted about how grateful I was and how my husband had helped me move past some doubts and insecurities.   I posted the nice picture of my desk.  I thanked God for the gift of time.  I pushed forward into the onslaught of work I have.

And then the realization hit; I had spent so much time asking for time, wishing for time, praying for time that I had never truly planned the next step.  I was all of a sudden afraid of what this time meant.

Fear of time, given time, is a real thing.  Until now I could simply say I didn't have time.  Now I had no excuses.  I was given exactly what I wanted and didn't plan well enough for the reality of that gift.  Instead I spent all my time assuming I would never get what I truly desired.     

So I found myself checking every social media notification.  I listened for the cries of my 10-month old, nearly jumping out of my seat to intervene with each and every sound.  I interrupted the perfectly lovely and capable babysitter what felt like a million times to let her know where the watercolor paints were and which snacks were appropriate for Jude and which were better for Soren.  Those were all things she could have easily figured out herself but in my attempt to run from time, I delved into the familiar habits of my daily life with kids instead of accepting this marvelous gift I had been given, maybe even earned.

I literally wrote myself post-its telling myself to stay put.

All in all my first day was a bit of a mixed bag.  I delivered a beautiful wedding gallery to a couple I absolutely adore.  I also spent a whole lot of time not really working at all.  My desk wasn't as pretty at the end, with donut bags and scratched audio book cds and cups and post-its everywhere. 

I didn't write three blog posts and I didn't do yoga and I didn't shower until 4pm. 

But I faced old fears and new fears head on with courage and hope so that the next go-round I have with the gift of time, I'll be better prepared.