It’s a good time for a blog.
No one’s up yet.
I wanted to write about how I am in my own way, when it comes to getting writing done. For a few days, school has been canceled. Snow flew in NC, we all screamed, and here we are.
The following song and dance ensues every time I have a “day off,” when the kids are also home-
My wonderful husband encourages me to go work/write in the bedroom while he corrals the kids in the living room.
I am so, so, so lucky.
However, after a little while, I can’t stay in the bedroom.
It isn’t just that little bodies slip past their daddy to “check on mama.” It isn’t that my husband can’t handle the kids- he’s great.
It’s the guilt.
Since writing is, for me, a pleasure, I feel like I’m just playing in my room, while, out in the wilds of the living room, husband is doing the real, endless work of parenting/managing the house, and my children are “probably” (in my awful imagination) feeling neglected by their mother.
With this guilt in my chest, I try to sit and write, but I hear everything from the living room.
I hear the kids running and screaming around my poor husband (snow days amp kids UP).
I hear the kids getting in trouble after being cooped up too long and getting too wild.
I hear kids starting to ask for snacks/lunch.
It’s usually this last one that unseats me. I can’t just sit there while these crazy, amped up munchkins, who obviously need some organized activities, require their overworked father to also start cooking.
I stop “playing” and go out there, where the real work is, so I can help my family.
I wasn’t playing.
I was writing and planning.
You’re supposed to work for the job you love, so you’ll never actually feel like you’re working.
Mommy guilt adds a whole other layer to this idea. Work for the job you love, and you’ll find it much easier to consider it an easy sacrifice when the “real” work shows up.
The job I love is not a toy. The job I love is not “free time.” This isn’t a video game that I should save and stop when it’s time to join “real life.”
A lot of quotation marks today.
I teach writing. I write for myself and my students. It’s important. It’s necessary.
I have to stop treating it like a guilty pleasure.