I'm a working mum. It's hard.
I work in a job that needs a high level of concentration, and by the end of the day all I want to do is crawl into bed and go to sleep.
Instead, I cook dinner for my children, help the eldest with his homework, catch up with my friends and usually late at night when everyone goes to sleep, I write.
I don't brush my hair in the morning, instead I scrape it into a ponytail, twist it into a bun and tie it up. No-one knows I don't brush it, I just deal with the knots later.
Half the time I don't cook a full meal. We have chicken nuggets and toasted sandwiches sometimes. It doesn't matter. My kids and I go to sleep having been fed and that's the important thing.
Last year I had a lot of stressful stuff going on in my life, and I buried myself in my writing for distraction as much as anything else.
So this year, I want to make everything better in my life. The thing that was causing me stress has gone, and I'm looking forward to relaxing more, taking more time with my children and enjoying my writing even more.
I don't have to crank out a new book every month, or ever two months. If I put out three new books this year, I'll be doing well. Having said that, I already have one written and almost ready to go in Loving the Rake, and I've written 10,000 words of The Accidental Sultan. So, I have a bit of a head start.
I'll do NaNoWriMo again this year, but not plan a book launch at the same time.
Watch this space. Already with things going better this year, I've had a whole heap of story ideas. I'm fighting one off at the moment while I finish off Taking Chances.
Now all I need is more hours in the day.
In a week my baby turns three. It has been an awesome three years. I seem to be raising a strong, independent young lady. Sometimes it is a struggle at her age, but if she stays that way as she grows up, I will be so proud of her.
It was her birth that inspired me to write Charlotte's birth scene in Another Chance. I have told this story on the old blog before, but with my daughter's birthday coming up, it seemed a good idea to retell it.
I was hospitalised with high blood pressure, and they decided to monitor me overnight and go ahead with an induction in the morning. My husband went home for the night to get some sleep about ten o'clock and I tried to get some sleep.
I'd been getting the odd twinge during the evening, and it hadn't amounted to anything regular. About midnight, it started intensifying, but at about 12.20am I was in a lot of pain. When the midwife checked me, my baby was ready.
It was like one of those crazy scenes in the movies. I was in the assessment unit, but hospital policy was that you're supposed to be in a delivery room, so off I went.
The doors between the different areas were pushed open by the bed with a crash. It was like being in a TV show. Mostly what I remember is screaming at the midwife for them to call my husband. He never stood a chance of getting there in time.
After I moved from one bed to another (no mean feat when you're labouring and wanting desperately to push) I was given the go ahead to push.
Two pushes later, my daughter emerged. My memories of that are pretty fuzzy, but I do remember saying it was too fast and I as pretty sure I was in shock from the speed of it all.
We nicknamed her "pocket rocket" to start with. To this day she does everything with such insane energy, she just never stops.
I love her with all my heart, and I just want all her wishes to come true.
Happy Birthday, Megan. You are amazing. Love, Mummy.
Today, I found out at what age little boys stop holding their mother's hand in public. Well, my little boy.
It doesn't seem that long ago he was a baby, but now he's running around with his laptop, playing Minecraft and talking about a career as a programmer. He wants to make computer games for a living.
He is eight and a half.
He was at his holiday programme today and when I picked him up, I reached for his hand as I usually do. Up until now, he's taken it, but today he shook his head.
I always knew this day would come. In fact, I used to tell him one day he wouldn't want to hold my hand or hug me. I just didn't think it would be so soon.
While I know he still loves me, and I'll still get the hugs, but at home and not in public, it sucked. My baby didn't want to hold my hand.
As upsetting as it is, I am really proud that he is independent enough to be like that. I look forward to seeing the man he grows into, and I'll remember these early moments of him grabbing his independence.
I'll always remember that little boy who used to grab my hand wherever we went, and I'll miss him. You're growing up far too fast, my baby.
Ariadne Wayne is the pen name of an overworked, often exhausted mother of two who frequently turns to the internet for relaxation. It doesn't always work...