I admit it. I've been spoiled for the past few years since my three daughters and grandchildren moved out. Yes, in spite of the loss of my day job and the near catastrophe of almost losing my eldest daughter a few weeks ago, I've been spoiled.
By having time for me. Time to write. Time to think. Time to just be.
This week - and the past three - have been bedlam since Jenn moved home with Julian, Gordie, Isabella, and her critters, Amber, Domino, and Panda. Don't get me wrong - I'm thrilled to have them all home again for as long as it takes for Jenn to get on her feet again. I love my grandsons fiercely - after all, we're best pals - and my granddaughter has become "Papa's girl," as you might expect. I've enjoyed preparing beautiful meals for them, doing mounds of laundry, keeping up with the dishes, and cleaning up after them.
Really. I have. 'Cause I know how close I came to losing Jennifer, and how incredibly fragile life can be. So the work of caring for her and her children - what some might call drudgery - has become an honor and part of my way to thank God for sparing her.
In spite of this aspect of our new life, however, there's a piece of me that's dying. Crying out for attention. Bleeding to death on the inside.
My writing time has gone up in smoke, and this is the first time since Jenn became ill on December 5th that I've snatched a minute to write. My novel - once going at a fast clip of a chapter a day - has come to a screaming standstill. I miss my characters, desperately. And I think I might explode if I have to wait one more day to get back to Gus, Tully, and Penni.
Each day I think there may be hope - now that the boys have gone to their daddy's for a week, I thought I'd have time. But Jenn went back to work last night (she's a nurse and works 12 hour overnight shifts) and baby Isabella had an evening of projectile vomiting, poor thing. There went my luscious hours of writing. Four changes of bedsheets and clothing, all within a few hours. And of course, she woke up at her usual five am, so I couldn't sneak in my writing then, either.
Fortunately - maybe because she's sick? - she went back to sleep after I cared for her from five to seven this morning. She lay down and tried to cover herself with her blanket. I looked at her with a desperate, feverish hope in my eyes. "Really? You want to go night-night?"
She nodded. I gave her her binky and drink, covered her with trembling hands, and crossed my fingers and toes that she'd really sleep. And by golly (as my character Tully would say... LOL), she's still sleeping a half hour later! I've had time to write a few words to you, dear readers, without squawking or spills or doggie mistakes on the carpet. Oh, yes. We've had plenty of those, too. Another story for another day.
Have a wonderful week. And I pray you find more time to write or follow your passions than I have this month!
Left to right: Jenn, me, Melanie, Allison (Balto on my lap)
Melanie (and her dog, Toby), Julian, and Gordie
New doggie additions: Amber and Domino
Baby's awake, must fly. All my best to all of our MB4 bloggers and readers!