Caution: Run-on sentences that seem to take on the form of entire paragraphs. Why? I’m exhausted, and I can.
I woke up especially early this morning. Not because I wanted to get out of bed at 5:30 a.m., but because it was music and story-time day at the library. If I want to bathe without a 2 year old, smaller version of my husband flooding the entire bathroom floor, while playing her own EPIC version of duck pond in the bathroom sink while mommy showers, or turning the lights off, just as I’m attempting to shave my legs for the first time in three days, this is what I have to do. Within a 24-hour period, waking up early at least gives me an hour of privacy; a beautiful sliver of my own time to think, dream, plan, and smell nice.
The few hours leading up to our time together at the library was great! After demanding strawberries, pickles, and two frozen yogurts for breakfast, it was time for her bath. After scrubbing the frozen yogurt from nearly every inch of her body (and later the carpets), my self-declared princess decided that she would escape the evil villain known as mommy and run through the house, stark naked, dive into her Dora the Explorer ball tent, filled with 100 brightly colored balls, yelling “I pee-pee I-pee”, while laughing hysterically at her now breathless mother. Upon further inspection of before mentioned @#&$%*# tent, mommy finds that, in fact, princess has peed everywhere, but at least within the confines of the tent! I am then faced with the AMAZING task of soaking 100 balls and the giant, plastic, @#!$%&* blow-up Dora tent in its very own special bath, but not before I’ve given my child her own second bath. This is the fourth time today that I have used the bath/shower facilities in my home. HELLO CITY WATER BILL!!! I’ll need more book sales for this adventure alone.
We hop in the car. My child has everything that she requires: Goofy (one large and one small version of the exact same stuffed animal), her juice, a green (not any other @#$!&^% color) bowl of goldfish, a pacifier that she has nearly chewed the tip off of because she is in teething hell, and some random flashlight that I am NEVER to forget before leaving the house. Yup! We’re good! We are waiting at a busy, five minute long stoplight, which leads to the library, when I mistakenly ask, “Honey, are you excited about library time?” Protest ensues! “NOOOOOOO. Park and play, park and play, park and play”. You get the point, right!? We finally get to the library, she finds a friend, all is right with the world, and we play, story-time, and dance our faces off. Woohoo!
Then comes the grocery shopping. We Shop. It’s great. She behaves until we get to the checkout point of our adventure. All of the sudden, my sweet child transforms into a tiny spider monkey and declares, “Mommy pick up, mommy pick up!” Before I can even compute her demand, she stands up in the cart and lunges at me. I catch the airborne spider monkey, realizing that I am now suddenly wet. Coincidentally, I now smell like pee too. I attempt to check out, while holding a ridiculously sized purse, which keeps slipping off of my shoulder, and I’m trying to slide the #$%^&*@ debit card, while the spider monkey is somehow making her way from her position on my waist to some unknown destination above our heads; likely my own head, or even the ceiling, because after all, spider monkeys are sneaky little creatures. The man behind me is laughing hysterically at my chaotic checkout situation, but my hands are too busy to punch him in the face or to toss the spider monkey at him, so I give him my best %&*# you fake laugh. I’ll inevitably write him off as a douche bag, or maybe even Satan, in my next book.
When we finally arrive home, I give my darling toddler her third bath of the day. This time, it’s mommy’s fault for forgetting to change her diaper in between point A and point B. I settle her to sleep, allowing myself a solid two hours to work on marketing my romantic thriller novel and my short story. I am only able to write in the evenings, because it’s hard to concentrate with a spider monkey hanging from your leg, while attempting to form an intelligent sentence, not to mention an entire novel. No matter how hectic my days are; I adapt. Trying to strike the perfect balance between caring for a child around the clock, while attempting to build a writing career, is a trying task, but it’s not an impossible task. I love my family, and I feel truly blessed to have an opportunity to work at my own pace and on my own terms as an Indie Author.
This week in particular has been incredibly trying. My teething toddler contracted a wicked cold from the deepest pit in hell from her adorable boyfriend at the library, decided to drop her midday nap, and she also learned how to spider monkey her way over the crib rail. (Yes! All in the same week, which is how long it has taken me to work on this rather short blog post.) I have lost my marketing break during her naptime, and once I removed that crib rail, all hell broke loose. Day after day, I have dedicated two hours of my evening writing time to sitting in the floor by her new big girl bed, making my best attempt as a first time mother, to console my anxious child, who was previously the world’s greatest sleeper. Last night, I woke up at 2:00 a.m. to my now night roaming spider money, bouncing happily on my chest, while yelling “UPTOWN FUNK! Let’s do it mommy! Music time!” All I could do was wrap my arms around her and laugh, knowing that this is just a phase, and I’ll be able to return to my writing eventually.
Thank you for taking the time to read more about my hectic lifestyle!!
Author of Shadows of Deception, A Romantic Thriller Novel