July 23: In search of quiet
I can find quiet quite easily, thank you very much. I can go home, lock
the door, turn off the phone, and reward myself with four hours of
uninterrupted writing.
I could do it, but I won't. When you have a toddler, you have to put all your priorities on the back burner.
Was a time when I could go home after work and indulge myself in an evening of writing or practicing my magic or just goofing off. But not anymore. My son needs me.
My boy is almost 18 months old. Most nights, he goes home to sleep with me. We usually get home around nine or so and I play with him or read to him or tickle him or, if I'm feeling very ambitious, I'll give him a bath. He's going through an I-hate-baths phase right now and he turns into a shrieking banshee whenever I try to take him into the bathroom.
But late at night, when the sun is down and the traffic on Main Street is gone, I will lay my son down and cuddle him and sometimes I will think about how three years ago, I didn't think I'd ever have kids or that I ever wanted them.
My son is oblivious to these thoughts. It is time for him to settle for the night. He has his bottle. My iPad is on and he is watching Caillou or Choo Choo Soul. His eyelids are getting heavy but he is determined to fight his sleep. I know he will lose the fight. Eventually.
And then my boy falls asleep and I know it's because he feels safe with me. I usually have an hour or so before sleep starts beckoning me. I will write or work on my magic and then I will get tired and I will wish I didn't get tired so easily and what I am really wishing is that I was 21 instead of 41.
Writing done, I will lie down beside my boy and I will listen to the soft purr of his snoring. Soon I will be asleep too and I will have been successful in my search for quiet.
I could do it, but I won't. When you have a toddler, you have to put all your priorities on the back burner.
Was a time when I could go home after work and indulge myself in an evening of writing or practicing my magic or just goofing off. But not anymore. My son needs me.
My boy is almost 18 months old. Most nights, he goes home to sleep with me. We usually get home around nine or so and I play with him or read to him or tickle him or, if I'm feeling very ambitious, I'll give him a bath. He's going through an I-hate-baths phase right now and he turns into a shrieking banshee whenever I try to take him into the bathroom.
But late at night, when the sun is down and the traffic on Main Street is gone, I will lay my son down and cuddle him and sometimes I will think about how three years ago, I didn't think I'd ever have kids or that I ever wanted them.
My son is oblivious to these thoughts. It is time for him to settle for the night. He has his bottle. My iPad is on and he is watching Caillou or Choo Choo Soul. His eyelids are getting heavy but he is determined to fight his sleep. I know he will lose the fight. Eventually.
And then my boy falls asleep and I know it's because he feels safe with me. I usually have an hour or so before sleep starts beckoning me. I will write or work on my magic and then I will get tired and I will wish I didn't get tired so easily and what I am really wishing is that I was 21 instead of 41.
Writing done, I will lie down beside my boy and I will listen to the soft purr of his snoring. Soon I will be asleep too and I will have been successful in my search for quiet.
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