I've been working on a book for quite awhile now, attempting to spend every spare hour I have working on it, whether that be early in the morning or late at night. Sometimes, if I can successfully get the kids caught up in an activity together, I'll try to break away for a few minutes and write a paragraph or two.
One day last week, I was on a roll. I have to be "in the mood" to write and I was finally getting somewhere after suffering from a mild bout of writer's block.
I began to type...."The deafening silence in our home was almost too much to bear. Just another cruel reminder that I was infertile. How I ached to hear the sound of children's laughter, instead of the sound of my own agonizing wails. How I wished to be up in the middle of the night rocking a tired baby back to sleep, instead of laying awake in bed planning yet another IVF cycle...back at square one, again."
Slowly, I began to lose my concentration, as the kids became louder and louder while they fought over whose turn it was to use the green crayon. Are you serious? Like there's no OTHER green crayons besides that ONE?
One by one, they ran up to me, screaming, "Mommy, I had it first", "No, I had it first and she ripped it out of my hand"...."Well, I've been waiting for my turn and he won't let me have it".
I had had enough. I finally lost my temper and in a loud, angry tone of voice, I said, "Can't you all play nicely together for just a little while? Why do you always need me to intervene? I just want some peace and quiet, for a change. Is that too much to ask? Can you all just leave me alone for a little while, PLEASE? I really need to focus!"
They all nodded their heads and walked away to resume coloring. I felt bad for raising my voice but, my goodness, I'll never get this book done at the rate I'm going.
Just as I turned back to my computer, Cole came up to me and asked, "Mommy, what are you working on?" Annoyed yet again at being interrupted, I sighed, "Cole, I'm working on my book. I need to concentrate, so can you find something to do and not bother me for a little while?"
Obviously, not catching a clue, he asked, "What's your book about?" Now I was getting super frustrated....soon, Tim would be home and I'd have to start cooking dinner. And then I'd have lost my mo-jo and Lord only knew when it would hit me again.
I answered, "It's a story. My story about how desperately I wanted to be a mother . Okay? Now can you leave me alone so I can get back to my writing?"
Oh yes, as soon as the words came out of my mouth, I had to laugh at the irony of it all. I was telling my kid to get lost for a little while so I could write about how badly I wanted children. I was asking them for peace and quiet, while I was writing a paragraph describing how the deafening sound of silence in our home made my heart ache.
I went back and read the paragraph that I had just written and I could feel the tears begin to well up in my eyes. Was I really THAT blind?
Nothing is so important that I can't take a few minutes away from my work to help my kids resolve an argument, even though I play referee at least 10 times a day, or to spend those last 20 minutes of the day reading them their favorite book.
Someday, when this book is finally done, I wish to dedicate it to them....my children, the ones who healed my heart and made it whole again. My children, the ones who fill our home with the sound of laughter and tears, so much so that I can't even hear the sound of my own voice most of the time.
I want them to be proud of the book and proud of me, not resentful of the time I spent away from them in order to finish it.
After all, my children are the reason I even have a story to tell.
OM and Ohms
1 day ago