If not the mother of invention, let me at least aim for intention. For the list of things I intend to do is so long and varied, it taunts me and I have to argue back, just like the kids, with their, 'but, but, buts.'
I want to read more, watch more, walk more, learn more, create more, dance more, see more people. But first, I am a mother. Oh, yeah, mustn't forget, I (we) have created a couple of human beings and we're still putting in the graft. Hourly.
Another mother in the playground admitted she was, 'so lacking in ambition' and, once again, I thought: Hold on! Society only defines it that way. We are deeply ambitious that our kids get the best upbringing possible, by being there for their every need. By doing all the invisible stuff they are not aware of, but they'd miss it if we didn't, or if we left them in after-school clubs all week.
So, yes, I still hope to do so much more. And I will, when the planets are in the right orbit. Meanwhile, did I start a novel in the last half hour? Eh, no. After weeks of intending to, I managed to make an online purchase of two universal cooker hood filters with grease saturation indicators. Of course you wanted to know that. I bet all the best novelists have a) no kids or b) a nanny, and perhaps, c) oven hoods dripping with grease.