Why I Can't Write When the Kids Are Home

Last week as I was composing my life story in five paragraphs, my youngest threw open the office door and asked, "So what are we doing today?" like I would have something fabulous in mind, say a trip to Disneyland. In fact, I had not realized the kids would be out of school until the night before. Even though I knew it would be nearly impossible to keep my personal schedule with the little hooligans home for the entire day, I put on my stubborn face that holiday morning and plowed forward. The older kids could sense my determination to get my writing done, but my youngest does not pick up on subtleties such as: "Don't you think Mommy should get a turn on the computer?" or "Why don't you ask someone to play?" or "I think the cat wants you to read to her." I was talking in Womanese, you see, the language of subtle hints that all of my sisters speak fluently. Unfortunately, my men, both little and big, are not bilingual. Jakey is the most flummoxed by my Womanese, probably because he has the least experience with mis-translations. That's why, instead of leaving me to my work, he stepped closer to my chair. 

"You told me you'd take me to the store at 10:30 today," he said. In his hand he held a small plastic ball that he carefully opened to reveal a weird little character called a Bakugan. He began to make shooting sounds, then explosions, waving his Bakugan in my face. "Take me to the store, take me to the store, take me to the store," he chanted in a robot voice. You can see how it would be difficult to keep track of your thoughts in conditions like these. 

It brought this commercial to mind:

So I had to put him off with a bribe. "If you let me work for a little while longer," I said, "I'll take you to get a cupcake and a hot chocolate." I actually wanted the cupcake and hot chocolate, but one of the perks of being a mom is being able to convince yourself that you do these things for your children-- that it is in fact their fault that you eat too much sugar. 

The Bakugan and Jake's mouth closed. He thought for a minute, then said, "To the store first, though."

"Fine." I set a timer for thirty minutes and handed it to him. "Do not bother me until this thing goes off," I said.

Exactly five minutes later he was back. 

And so I sighed, turned off the computer and grabbed my purse. I took my kid to the store and I bought everyone a cupcake and cocoa. But when I came home, my thoughts were nowhere to be found. 

If you've seen them, please let me know. I suspect they're either under the bed or crammed between the couch cushions. Or maybe they weren't ever there in the first place.

Comments

[Alicia Fish]

That's how I feel... but instead of a child running around, asking me questions, not leaving me alone, I suffer from having my thoughts lead me from one place to another, never letting me focus on anyone thing. For instance, right now, I should be studying but my mind is saying "but you should email your cousin back. when is the last time you took some pictures? i wish i could post something today. today. the day before the test. I should study. i wish i was studying art. i love painting. but my paints are all over the house from last weekend. and dishes. those are there too. i could clean tonight. but i should study. or i could read blogs. what should i name my blog." you get the idea. i do a good enough job at jumbling up my mind that I fear the day when I have little helpers doing it for me.

[LauraB.]

Your thoughts are probably in the same place where I lost my marbles!