There are two times during the week in which I fall into my zone and work on my book. One is while my daughter is in dance class and the other is after Saturday yoga and coffee. The last two times, I’ve noticed two interesting things.
1.) Routine is NOT usually my thing. I hardly ever stick to the same schedule. But for this, I do. It is surprising what motivation toward a huge goal can do for a person.
2.) Once in the zone, it is difficult to get out. When I hear my daughter and her little dancer friends emerging from class after being deep in writing mode for an hour, I have to look up, take a breath, and remind myself of where I am. It’s actually kind of a cool feeling. Zoning out is nice.
My first draft is due on April 1st. Between now and then are meetings with my publisher and my Kula. My zone will be inhabited by others and the real work begins.
You just don’t get it. But I’ll explain it one last time.
This mommy thing is hard as hell. It doesn’t matter if I’m a stay at home mom, a work from home mom, or a work outside the home mom. Notice the common thread. I am always MOM. Mom is it. The go to. Where the buck stops. The end all be all. The final answer. The rock.
Would I have it any other way? Absolutely not. Do I regret this choice? Hell no! Do I wish someone else would take my place? Not in a million years.
Let me tell you what I do want. It’s very simple. It can be expressed in one word. You’ve all heard it, from the time you were a little kid. It’s what we all want from the people we love. There’s even a song about it.
That’s all I want. I don’t want to trade jobs with you. I don’t want to complain. I don’t think you have it any easier than me. I don’t want my job to be any different. I don’t want to make comparisons. I just want the respect that I deserve for doing what I do and being who I am. I am mom.
When I need help, don’t make me beg. If I need to leave, don’t make me explain. If I need some time, just give it to me. If I can do something for myself, don’t turn it into an act of congress. When I’m at the end of my rope, pull me up.
Every once in a while, just stop and try on my shoes. They won’t fit. It doesn’t matter. They’re not supposed to. But they fit me perfectly. Respect that.
Coughing, runny noses, sneezing, irritability, fever, tissues, tissues, and more tissues…
That was how we spent our Spring Break.
Luckily or not, my daughter never really ‘acts’ sick. She’s still got almost the same amount of energy as always. This is a problem, though, when I’m sick too. Why won’t she just curl up on the couch with me and be pitiful?
I’ve got to admit. The combination of no school, hubby gone for 3 days, lots of work to do, and dual colds could have done me in. There were moments, that’s for sure. But we survived. And we even had some fun.
“Writing 101, Day Fifteen: Your Voice Will Find You
You’re told that an event that’s dear to your heart — an annual fair, festival, or conference — will be cancelled forever (or taken over by an evil organization). Write about it. For your twist, read your piece aloud, multiple times. Hone that voice of yours!”
It’s just not the same anymore. I’ve said it over and over. There’s no other way to describe it. She’s gone. The new ones are hard to work with. They have these ideas that get everybody in trouble. They think too much of themselves to think of the team. They like to hear themselves talk. They don’t listen. Hate it.
But I think I might be over it. Or getting there. I’m sad to be excluded from what used to be great. It’s just not great anymore. She was the last part of its greatness. And now she’s gone. They can march on in their own way. I’ll catch ’em on the flip side. Maybe.