Hi from my writing weekend

A rippling stream, a soft couch, morning light, quiet, (and anxiety).

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Three days after heading home from almost two weeks in England with my family, I drove in a minivan with three writer friends to a little blue house in the Catskills, next to an enthusiastically gushing stream (there has been a lot of rain here), to write for the weekend.

I have this fantasy version of myself that is unencumbered from mom guilt, exceedingly free. This person knows in her bones that every person needs time for friends, creativity, quiet, and a break from the relentlessness of momming a 2 and a just-turned-4 year-old. But the real me has a constant fear that I’m letting my kids down, letting my husband down—even though he has done nothing but wholeheartedly support me generally and this weekend away specifically—somehow letting myself down (how? I know it’s not exactly rational).

The real me is holding these two realities, this fantasy version and this very non fantastical version, and, here I am anyway. Curled up in the corner of my lovely friend’s couch with a coffee and my laptop and the sunlight pure and crystalline. It’s a huge luxury to wake up, pour myself a cup of coffee, and dig into reading, writing, and thinking—usually I wake up, pour myself a cup of coffee, change diapers, deliver milk and breakfast, and spend the first few hours of my day taking care of my kids and walking Ace. Which is truly a joy. Mornings are often my favorite time with them, cuddly and sweet.

But they’re also the time of day when my brain feels at its sharpest, and I miss being able to use it. Before I had kids, I’d often say bye to Tony when he left for work, take my coffee (always, coffee!) and tuck myself back into bed with my laptop. My bed was thus transformed into the “bed office” and I did a lot of my best work there. Since kids, the bed office has been on a long hiatus. Sleep is so much more precious.

Yesterday, I found myself wracked with anxiety. Outside, the trees danced in the wind. The air tasted so clean. But inside my brain, it was less gorgeous. Talking it through with a friend, I realized I was putting an enormous amount of pressure on this weekend. I was counting on it to rest and recharge, to finally win against this lingering cold, to be super productive with my new writing project, to soak up quality friend time, to sleep, to cook, to talk, to laugh, to be inspired…

What’s making me feel better is the reminder that this is not my one and only chance. Thanks to my very generous friend, there will be more opportunities to visit her beautiful home. I’m not going to write a whole novel in two days. All I can do is plant some seeds. Take the next right action. Write a few words. Be kind to myself. To all the selves.

xo,

Hannah

PS Simone turned 4 last week! She was thrilled that the lovely flight attendant gave her a sundae with a cherry on top—this was her first maraschino cherry experience and she was a big fan. She told me, “mommy, I love flying.” (She also watched 8 hours straight of kid TV.)

PPS Take a deep dive into making more $$ as a freelance writer with me and Hannah Selinger on April 22! Discounted tix are on sale!

PPPS I tasted of lot of string cheese and these were my faves. String cheese forever.

PPPPS I wrote about cooking with marsala for Wine Enthusiast.

PPPPPS (so many P’s!): I wrote about Portuguese olive oil for the Olive Oil Professor.