Being both a writer and a mom is crazy sometimes. Actually, it's crazy all the time, even without trying to find the time to write. And when I manage to find a few spare minutes, there is ALWAYS some sort of interruption. Guaranteed. Kids, phone calls, toilets over-flooding, you name it, it happens. Even at night, when the kids are supposed to be in bed.
So when I injured myself this past summer and required surgery, I was actually excited. Not for the surgery/recovery part, of course, but for the week my wonderful in-laws took my kids. Which left me with . . .
That's right--Hours and hours of uninterrupted (if you don't count my husband) writing time. Nearly a week in fact.
Or so I thought.
After a few days, I realized something. I don't like to write ALL the time. In fact, I don't like to do anything ALL of the time. Except maybe laundry.
So on days like today when craziness keeps popping up like those goofy looking creatures in Wac-a-Mole, and my writing time is quickly shaved away, I try to remember that it's good I'm forced to divide up my time. A blessing in fact.
Right??? (Sometimes I need this validated. :))