There must be some trick to writing with a small child about foot. I woke up earlier than I typically would thinking, ‘Good. I’ve got at least an hour to sit down and belt out something. Maybe even open up that novel.’
The novel must be thick with electronic dust by now.
I go in to make a pot of coffee and notice that the refrigerator door is jammed and won’t close. As I’m fiddling with it, baby boy starts to cry and my heart sinks.
Not today either.
I’ve turned on Saturday morning cartoons in an attempt to buy myself some time. It works to some degree. My child, though, he likes to crawl up on my lap where I’ve got the computer sitting and is presently pressed against my leg as he watches the colorful puppets and lively humans on screen. Every now and then he tries to scramble up onto my lap.
Most mornings I’d let him and I feel some guilt that I’m not this morning.
I don’t know how to find time to write when my best attempt is to wake up early and hope that he doesn’t get up for another hour. That he’s watching TV gives me a chance but I just don’t know how I can do any writing of significance when every five minutes he’s attempting to scale me. How do I do this?
My step-mother brought up putting him in daycare so I could get work done. I’m a little hesitant since my husband and I still don’t have work and this will just eat away at our savings. Is it worth it?
Meanwhile I lie in bed at night and think about the novel I’m not working on.