My dream situation is to be a stay-at-home mom who writes novels. As I’ve said before, I get frustrated sometimes that I still have to work. It’s a stupid complaint because I get a lot done during lunch breaks and downtimes – perhaps as much as I’d get done if I were at home. Really, I’ve got it pretty good.
The only thing that sucks is when I have some extra time and I’m in the middle of the perfect scene, but then I get interrupted. I think to myself, “Man, if I were at home, nothing would stop me from finishing this perfect scene.”
I realized only this morning that I have yet to experience the greatest interrupter of all:
I can’t believe I didn’t think of this before. If I think I’m interrupted a lot now, imagine what it’ll be like when I have kids! This made me gain a greater appreciation for my job.
I think I over-glorify motherhood. I remember one time I was taking care of a three-month old infant, and he wanted me to hold him while he stared at the wall. He didn’t want me to play with him or make funny faces. He didn’t want me to do this sitting down. He wanted me to stand up and let him stare at the wall.
When he got tired of a particular wall, he fussed until I carried him to another wall, which he stared at. I remember thinking, “Holy crap kid, can you just pick a wall you like so I can sit down?”
Someday, I'll have to deal with wall-staring while my perfect chapter is on the computer screen waiting for me.
Because of my job, I’ve learned to write ten minutes here, ten minutes there, and I can pick up where I left off. This will definitely be helpful in the future. I guess there’s a blessing behind every complaint.