I never could have imagined how much time a child takes. Before I had one I admit I used to wonder, baffled, what it was that mothers did all day. I suppose I thought the child would Play, burble away to itself for hours, at regular intervals I'd feed it and once a day I'd wash it and then it would Sleep, wouldn't it, for hours and hours. Like a little baby.
So anyway, I generally have about two hours a day in which to try to do my work - writing and/or painting and anything else that happens to be on the cards at the present time. Not including the housework, the housework can go to hell (until I feel like I'm drowning in mashed banana and dirty towels, when I shall scream and grudgingly do it), paperwork, any semblance of a social life, etc.
What's this moan for? I don't know. It's just to say I'm tired, and I have no time, and there's so much I want to do. If you listen hard you will no doubt hear similar stories all over the world, from people far less lucky than I am, with more children, less time and even more obligations. So I'll shut up and get on with it, and see what I can pull out of these two tired, sleep-deprived, worrisome, precious, precious hours.
The first thing is to sit for fifteen minutes and try to do nothing at all.