I frequently read about writing mothers who practice their craft in the margins of their days–a moment here, a moment there. This is one of my moments of margin: the hour or so between getting Elvie Kay up and getting the boys up.
I used to wake her at 5 a.m. (and put her to bed at 5 p.m.) but now that Jeremy is with us permanently, I have moved her schedule to waking at 7 a.m. and going to bed at 7 p.m. After feeding her and changing her that leaves me about an hour or a little more before the boys get up at 8:30, and I have time to write, if I can wrap my head around it. I have stories I want to tell, and this is my time to get them down.
It’s difficult to sit here and focus on that one thing. Invariably I glance up and make a mental note to clean the glass on the side door today–I ought to do it every day–no, the boys ought to help me do it every day. Focus! Write a few words. What’s that noise? What is Elvie Kay doing? Go to see…I left her here, where did she go? There she is…NO! Elvie! Don’t eat that! Come here to your toys…Sit! Stay! Three babies who sat for months but wouldn’t crawl and now I have a baby that crawls but won’t sit up…Wait, what was I writing about?