Wednesday, December 22, 2010

Day One of Writing ... Well, Maybe This One Shouldn't Count ...

Welp, Day One of my effort to write in the mornings has been a resounding failure. I did get to focus on the novel for ten minutes last night, though. That's TEN WHOLE MINUTES more than usual.

I left work yesterday at 6:20, after putting in a 10-hour day. Picked up Anne from the sitter's, and was home by 7:15. Anne and I ate leftovers (well, Anne and the floor ended up wearing most of them), and then I gave baths to Anne, the high chair, and the floor, in that order. Then we played for a while, and then she went to sleep around 9:45.

I was supposed to make sweet potato casserole for the Christmas lunch at work today. But I was exhausted by then. Hubster had told me he'd be taking today off to do things around the house, so I thought, "I'll just make it in the morning, and if I run out of time, Hubster can finish things up for me."

Well, Hubster called around 10:00 p.m. and said he'd be home by 10:30. And that he needed to work in the morning.

"OK, so I'll get up early and make the casserole. Instead of writing. I'll write tonight instead."

So I fired up the laptop, opened up a chapter and the outline, and started thinking. For TEN WHOLE MINUTES. When Hubster got home, I had to set things aside for a few minutes. He'd gotten the mail and had a letter from my Compassion child, so I was all excited and had to read it. At some point I realized I wouldn't be writing at all again that night, so I got online for five or six minutes while chatting with Hubster (yes, we got to spend 20 whole minutes together yesterday), and then we went to bed. We've been reading passages for Advent, but we were both too tired even for that.

Anne woke up at 11:00, screaming. Teething? Stuffy nose? Both? Yep.

I suctioned her nose, nursed and rocked her, and she went back to sleep.

Thirty minutes later, she was screaming again.

I suctioned her nose, nursed and rocked her, and she went back to sleep.

Thirty minutes later, she was screaming again.

Do you see a pattern here? Lather, rinse, repeat. For the better part of the night.

Hubster is wonderful about getting up at 3:30 a.m. (which, I think, was her last time to wake us up last night), but Anne doesn't want him. She wants her mommy. She'll scream and scream with him, but as soon as I walk in and take her into my arms, she quiets down. So, Hubster tries (bless his heart), but I'm the one who ultimately needs to get up when she cries.

Writing at 5:00 this morning? I don't think so.

Baking sweet potato casserole at 6? You've got to be kidding me. Particularly when I realized I'd neglected to buy the mini-marshmallows on Monday's grocery-shopping trip.

Being at work by 9 a.m., as required? Is it possible when baby wakes up at 6 a.m., nurses in bed with the tired mommy, and then both fall back asleep, and, along with the tired daddy, sleep through the alarm clock and don't wake up until 8:30?

No, not when you're finally awakened by the cat having a sneezing fit in your hair.

And not when you're halfway to work, hair wet from taking an unplanned hair-washing shower, and you realize the car seat--the one your long-suffering husband needs to take the baby to the sitter's for you--is still in your car.

So. No writing this morning. No sweet potato casserole. A few tears, though. And a great, big headache. (Though I kind of had to laugh when I was writing this, several hours after the fact.)

There's always tomorrow. And the novel patiently waits.

2 comments:

The dB family said...

Mama always said there'd be days like these ;oS. Aren't you glad your novel patiently waits. I'm glad you could get a chuckle at the end of the day though.It definitely helps. Hope today goes better for you!

Blessings!
Deborah

Miz Delphi Chassis said...

Sometimes the only thing to do is laugh, because if you don't, you'll slit your wrists. I've had many, many days like this, and expect to have many, many more in the years to come. But oh, the memories...