When I first started writing fiction again, I set a daily goal of 3,000 words. During that time, I probably managed to average about 100 words per day.
Then my infant got older. And started getting into EVERYTHING.
So I set a word count goal of 1,000 words per day. And probably managed to write about 50.
Obviously I needed to get realistic.
Now my goal is 500 words daily, and I actually managed to exceed that goal today. Woot. Go me.
The truth is, Dora the Explorer only lasts about 20 minutes. Play-doh holds my kids’ attention for about 10 seconds. And crayons and paper are just old hat to them.
I figure if I managed to squeeze out 500 words, it’s at least better than… well… nothing.
My husband, as wonderful as he is, snores like a damn freight train.
My 4-year-old still crawls into bed with us at night, and she particularly enjoys kicking my back in her sleep.
I’ve always battled with insomnia.
For the past week, I’ve been a fucking zombie. Coffee, tea, IV infusions of caffeine… none of it works to keep my eyes open. I’ve been thinking about propping up my eyelids with toothpicks in pure Looney Tunes fashion.
Anyone know the cure for sleep deprivation? Besides “sleep,” that is. Because sleep is one thing I’m not going to get any time soon.
On the plus side, I have sent my children’s cookbook out to the formatter and cover designer. With any luck, in a few weeks, I’ll have the Createspace proof in my hands. But other than that, I haven’t done much in the writing world. It’s kinda hard to write when your nose is stuck in your computer keyboard after you fell asleep in the middle of a sentence.
I guess my situation is basically “traditional.” Hubby goes out and earns the bread (most of it, at least). I stay home, take care of the house, raise the kids, and try to squeeze in a few hours of writing each week.
I used to think that being a SAHM (Stay At Home Mom) was the hardest job ever. But now I think I’m wrong.
I have absolutely no idea how working moms who are also dedicated to their kids ever manage to find a moment of sanity. You get up in the morning, get the family moving, go off to a (possibly) thankless job, come home, serve up dinner, help kids with homework, give baths, etc. By the time the evening is over, no one can blame you for flopping into a chair to zone out and watch Dancing With The Stars. On top of all that, you’re faced with the daily guilt that society throws at you for “putting your kids in daycare” or “missing quality time with your children.”
Yeah, taking care of a house and raising kids is a tough job, too. Yeah, I’m exhausted at the end of the day. But once dinnertime comes, I don’t feel guilty that Hubby is the one who feeds the kids or gives them baths. I figure I spent all day with the kids, so we’ve already had plenty of quality time. Working moms don’t have that luxury. Instead, their own sense of responsibility to their children means they have to devote their evenings to their families. Admirable. And, I’m sure, damn difficult at times.
There’s a battleground between SAHMs and Working Moms. I don’t know why. Let’s face it: Both jobs are freakin’ hard. As a SAHM, let me just say this: My hat is off to the dedicated working mom. Treat yourself to a pedicure this weekend.
So the “school year” has officially started in my home. For us, this means less TV, more reading, and more “kid centered” activities.
While I’m glad I no longer hear Dora the Freakin’ Explorer chattering in the background, the reduction in TV time means Kid #1 and Kid #2 are turning to me for entertainment. So I read them books. We do school “lessons.” We play. We cook. We go outside. We draw/paint/make a fucking mess all over the dining room table.
I made the decision last year to homeschool my children, which pretty much means I’m wearing an “I am insane” sign around my neck.
Now that school has begun, I feel this desperate urge to make sure my kids are on par with their respective grade levels, so I’m probably pushing them too hard at their school work. Yes, I know this is a personal problem that I have, not my kids. Yes, I know this is likely to backfire on me. What can I say? I told you I’m insane.
I haven’t written a word in ages, and I’m not motivated to write, mainly because I’m too focused on whether K1 knows that “M” makes a “mmmmmmmm” sound. (Damn phonics.)
But then last night I had a panic attack when I realized that, God forbid, if something happened to my Hubby, I have basically no earning power. (I have a B.S. and M.S. but no real job skills other than writing… which doesn’t exactly pay the big bucks.) So I said to myself, “Self, you need to get back to writing. The more shit you have out there for people to read and buy, the better chance that you’ll be making some royalties if something does ever happen in the future.”
Insane, right? I started wondering if I were the only insane mother out there, or if all moms are a little bit insane.
I’m hoping I’m not alone.
Anyway, today is Friday. And no one works on Friday, right? So starting Monday, I am back to writing every day. Even if it’s only 500 words. Something is always better than nothing.
And I guess I’ll just have to suffer through a background of Dora, Swiper, and Backpack while I’m writing those words. Because every sane mom knows that TV is sometimes the only distraction that works.
So my not-quite-2-year-old is somewhere in the ballpark of 18 pounds. She’s also short. She’s in the 3rd percentile for weight and the 19th for height. A shrimp, basically. (I’m 5’0″, so I’m pretty sure she’s going to be built like me.)
Anyway, during a growth spurt, she can easily consume 500 calories at lunch (especially if I’m making my famous brunch of eggs, hashbrowns, toast/butter, and bacon).
Apparently, there’s a government mandate that school lunches for kids–including high school kids!–be between 750 and 800 calories. To which I respond, “What the fuck?!?” What in the world makes government officials think that this is enough calories for young, growing people? Imagine a high school football player. That amount of food basically equals a mouthful.
Kids are fighting back, and this entertaining and engaging video is one example. (Another example is that young business-minded kids are smuggling chocolate syrup into schools and charging “by the squeeze.”) Check it out. If nothing else, it heartens me that our youth have found a creative and practical way to attack policies.
The weather is getting colder here, which means I’m bundling up at night. And poor Hubby has to look at me wearing sweatpants, a hoodie, and thick socks.
Yeah. Super sexy. I’m sure he can’t wait to jump on me.
I’ve been doing some shopping for some sexier winter pajamas. Lemme tell you: they don’t exist. I seem to have two choices: dress like a prostitute in crotchless panties and a sheer camisole, or cover-up like a granny with 20 cats.
My urge to look “cuter” in my sleep clothes is probably motivated in part by my weight loss. Although our family illness pretty much put a dent in my “diet” plan, I have actually stuck to a relatively Paleo diet for most of the past few weeks. The result: a four pound weight loss. Doesn’t sound like much, I admit, but I’m 5’0″ tall. Four pounds can make a difference on me. I still have another 6 weeks until my niece’s wedding. If I stay focused from here on out, I might actually hit my goal weight.
As for writing, that has been on the back burner. First K1 got sick. Then I got sick. Then K2 got sick. Then Hubby got sick. If it had been the Hantavirus instead of the regular flu, we’d all be dead right now. Everyone is just starting to recover, so that’s good news.
In the meantime, does anyone know how to make flannel look sexy?
Guess my family is passing it around. For the past two mornings, I’ve awoken with a fever, sore throat, cough, body aches, etc. Woot.
Thank God for Advil.
Yesterday I made Hubby run to the store for chicken soup, OJ, ginger ale, and saltines. He might as well have been carrying a sign that read, “Someone in my life is sick.”
