Sadly, writing doesn’t pay the bills. So today I’m home with Miss One-Year-Old, writing job applications and thinking about WIP at the same time.
I’m dead tired. Last night Mister Three-Year-Old visited at 3 am, fidgeted until I could take it no more (he has elbows made of steel and legs that go on for days), woke up the baby going back to their room, continued to moan for more cuddles while I settled Miss One, woke her up AGAIN when she was finally down, and drove me quite mad until I had both of them in bed with me for the rest of the night.
Needless to say, I did not sleep well.
At least Mister Three is at daycare so I have time to be a good house mummy today. But I’m not sure that’s going to happen. I have already devoured a whole block of chocolate and two coffees. I don’t think I’ve had breakfast but I just can’t remember. The house is still a giant mess (the perpetual toy spewer is on auto and nothing seems to work against its ambition to conquer Every Single Space). It’s freezing cold. Even the warmest room in the house, where I retreat with my tablet and bluetooth keyboard and let Miss One run riot around me, even this room is Antarctica today. And now it’s time for her morning nap, but she won’t sleep in her cot because Separation Anxiety.
So I changed her smelly nappy and put her in bed with me. Yep, I’m back in bed at 10am, snuggled in the covers with the baby, hoping for a nap for both of us so the day can start again. Except one nappy change wasn’t enough. And now the whole room smells while she’s fast asleep, unaware that Mummy can’t possibly nap in these conditions. And my resume is on my computer in the study so I can’t do job applications unless I move in there, but it’s too freaking cold out of bed.
Sneaky glance around. No-one to see. Maybe I should just take this as an opportunity to write. The universe is telling me… something.
The cuddles are nice. The peaceful sleeping child beside me is a beautiful miracle. A smelly one, true, but this can be overlooked while writing (definitely not while napping, sadly).
Except now… she’s woken up after only fifteen minutes of sleep, with that manic awake look children get when they’ve decided a sprint is a marathon and there’s no way they’re going back to sleep and what’s the problem, Mummy? <insert cheeky grin>
Writing with kids = one word at a time. If I’m lucky I’ll get a paragraph in today. And maybe a job application. Draft.
Do you write when your children are around? How do you manage? Perhaps you do other activities. Any tips would be grand!
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EMMA LOUISE GILL 