We're in a Perpetual State of Dust and Hairballs
And it's only going to get worse next week when I return to work.
So let's just say, for today, that the family will be supportive and cooperative when I start back to the full time work, full time mom, and part time fiction writer thing (we're pretending now)--by the end of next week I'd have a few chapters done on my latest book. And in this same fantasy land I'd have a query together for a few agents high on my list, an almost completed book, and a few blog posts to spare for days when I'm not enlightened enough to write anything worth ready (like today) or am too busy attending to the day job to think in a straight coherent thought.
Too bad it isn't going to happen. The family, sure in theory is quite supportive. In fact, the husband will take the children on occasion for an few hours so I can get some writing done. Or maybe he will occupy my son so that I can write, but then the wee-one will want to nurse. And then of course there is the whole we-have-to-eat thing. Because I do most of the cooking in this household, that food duty lands on my lap--unless of course it is one of those "special" afternoons when I am kid free. Oh, and laundry. And then someone decides to drop by. Or holiday shopping madness.
Sure, you say, take a kid-free vacation, you deserve it! And I do. Really. I know. But with a barely 3-month-old nursling and the holidays fast approaching--well 2 hours isn't going to get me nothing. It does allow for a bit of catch up. But lately, that would mean sleep, not so much writing (even though, I am trying. In fact, I gave up 4 hours of sleep just last night for it! And today, it shows. Hope I don't see any acquaintances at Target). Of course it is partially the time of year--holidays, birthdays (my son's on Thursday), winter, the damn darkness that greats me in the mornings and before 5pm at night--and come January I'll be raring to go again. Right? Well of course, who isn't? I mean it's a new year.
Just let me get to the vacuuming. Oh and laundry before the new year. Otherwise my home might become nothing short of a pig stye. Or a dust cave. Or maybe a litter box.
So let's just say, for today, that the family will be supportive and cooperative when I start back to the full time work, full time mom, and part time fiction writer thing (we're pretending now)--by the end of next week I'd have a few chapters done on my latest book. And in this same fantasy land I'd have a query together for a few agents high on my list, an almost completed book, and a few blog posts to spare for days when I'm not enlightened enough to write anything worth ready (like today) or am too busy attending to the day job to think in a straight coherent thought.
Too bad it isn't going to happen. The family, sure in theory is quite supportive. In fact, the husband will take the children on occasion for an few hours so I can get some writing done. Or maybe he will occupy my son so that I can write, but then the wee-one will want to nurse. And then of course there is the whole we-have-to-eat thing. Because I do most of the cooking in this household, that food duty lands on my lap--unless of course it is one of those "special" afternoons when I am kid free. Oh, and laundry. And then someone decides to drop by. Or holiday shopping madness.
Sure, you say, take a kid-free vacation, you deserve it! And I do. Really. I know. But with a barely 3-month-old nursling and the holidays fast approaching--well 2 hours isn't going to get me nothing. It does allow for a bit of catch up. But lately, that would mean sleep, not so much writing (even though, I am trying. In fact, I gave up 4 hours of sleep just last night for it! And today, it shows. Hope I don't see any acquaintances at Target). Of course it is partially the time of year--holidays, birthdays (my son's on Thursday), winter, the damn darkness that greats me in the mornings and before 5pm at night--and come January I'll be raring to go again. Right? Well of course, who isn't? I mean it's a new year.
Just let me get to the vacuuming. Oh and laundry before the new year. Otherwise my home might become nothing short of a pig stye. Or a dust cave. Or maybe a litter box.
