Writing with children

If it weren’t for my children, I would have nothing to write about. They are my inspiration, my most honest critics, and quite often, they are the material as well. Today, I planned to write… all day. People are asking, “When can we buy the next book [in the series]?” My best answer is that I would like to have it finished by the end of this year. Then, the phone rings.
Exactly!
This is how a day in the life of a writer with children goes. I sit down to work at the laptop, the girls are at Grandma’s for the weekend, the boys are playing, I am working. Then, Don reminded me that we needed to go pick up our car. Oh yeah, I hadn’t really forgotten, it had just slipped my mind.
That’s done, the boys are watching a show that Daddy taped for them, and Jacob is in his bed, fed, changed, and contently sleeping. Everything is good, the house is clean… enough, it is quiet, the laptop is on the dining room table, open and waiting for me. I start to work, to write, it’s going along. I get thirsty, get a glass of water, think I’d really love some coffee, I start to make a pot, then I check the email real quick, just while the coffee is brewing. I need to connect with the printer, I compose, attach, send, the coffee is done.
I begin to work and go over some design elements. I have an illustration that I am trying to decide how I will do it… I think that I will try to draw it out and see what I come up with.
Oh yeah, the pencils are in the van because I used them yesterday at the Book Mark Family Activity Night that I spoke at. I’ll go get them. When I get to the van…
Oh yeah, the box that all the pencils are in is underneath a load of groceries that we picked up on the way home last night because as we were driving we noticed a sign that said “Sure Fine Sale” When we see a great deal, we buy it by the case load and then some. We packed the van as full as it would get; if we hadn’t already dropped the girls off with Grandma, they’d have been riding with cans under their feet and boxes in their laps. We felt it was God’s providence, because we were able to purchase even more at these great prices because we could fill up the space that would have normally been filled by extra bodies.
So, of course, I start to carry in cases of food; we didn’t unload the van last night because it was late when we got home, all the items were nonperishable, and Don had to work at 4am. So, anyway, I begin to carry in the groceries, not all of them, I planned to only bring in enough to uncover the box of my supplies, so I can get at the pencils that I want to use for sketching out some graphic design ideas, because today is a day that I will work on the book.. all day.
When I get the groceries into the kitchen, I take one look at the pantry and realize…
Oh yeah, there’s no way I am going to get all of this food into this space unless I get it better organized. So, I begin to clean out a few shelves that are mostly empty anyway and make room for the new stuff. Then, I hear a noise… can that be Jacob crying? Oh my, it’s only been a few minutes… no, it’s been an hour, he could be awake already. Yes, that’s him. I go around to the back stairs to listen, and see that the back of the van is still open…
Oh yeah, I was bringing in those groceries so that I could uncover the box that contains the pencil case that has the supplies I wanted so I could work on the book today… all day.
Jacob cries again. I head up the stairs and get him. He is no longer dry and full and content, but is teary eyed (Mama, you made me wait!), wet and unhappy with me. We get a new diaper, a little snuggling, and then I try to pass him off on his brothers who are happily playing together. They go for it, sort of… it’s really more of an “I guess he can hang out with us, but we’re not really interested in entertaining him. Set him over there so he’s out of the way.”
I give him a few toys and look around the room for anything I don’t want knocked off an end table (like that glass of water) or eaten (like those quarters, it’s always nice to find money in unexpected places, but never in a diaper). I pick up a few things, leave to put them away and Jacob rebels. “I’m not going for it, don’t you dare leave me again.” He’s a one year old, he doesn’t actually speak like this; I’m translating.
So, I pick him up and carry him on my hip, and head for the kitchen to take care of that glass of water, when I see the pantry….
Oh yeah, I was going to organize that and put away those groceries so that I could get to the box in the van that has my supplies from last night so I can get out my pencils I wanted to use for sketching designs for the book I’m working on… Okay, I’ll do that just as soon as I can find the backpack carrier for Jacob, he’ll be happy in that. Where is that at?
Oh yeah, it’s still in the van because I took it with me last night and it was late when we got home and we didn’t bring everything in. So, out to the van I go to get the backpack carrier…
Oh yeah, the back of the van is still open because I was going to unload the groceries so I could get to the box that I packed up the supplies in which contains the pencils I wanted to use to sketch the design for the book that I am working on today… all day.
I move the groceries, get the pencils, close the hatch, and head inside to work, as soon as I put Jacob into the carrier…
Oh yeah, still in the van. Back outside. Get the carrier, close the door, go inside, put the baby in the pack, and work… standing up, rocking back and forth, but working. Writing, not sketching, I can type standing and rocking, but not draw. Baby falls asleep and I sit down to work on a cover design, since that’s the one idea I came up with while I was pacing. I think it’s a good one, and I get it sketched out when my four year old comes to me starving. I am tempted to make him finish the half eaten bowl of cereal he left on the table, but it really is kind of gross. So, I cut up apples and bananas, make sandwiches, turn off the pantry light (I’m not going back in there until I get some work done), put lunch on the table, pray with my sons for our food, for our girls who are gone today, for dad who is at work, and silently I pray for productivity.
They eat, I go back to the laptop, then I remember that somewhere I have a book with a really great picture of what I’m thinking of, I’m sure it will inspire me. I just have to find it. The boys finish lunch, now they all need baths (how does that happen?), but I’m working so I’ll let them go back to playing on the carpet and I will clean up the banana mush from the carpet the next time I plan a whole house cleaning day… all day. Today, I am working, writing… all day. Then, the phone rings. I answer it, I’m not really getting anything done anyway. Chitter chatter, chitter chatter, I refill my coffee, I play on the floor with my baby, I listen to the stories my sons are inventing together, I sweep the dining room floor (I just can’t ignore those Cheerios I’ve been stepping on for another minute)…
I’m chatting on the phone, while I edit a few pages, and feeding Jacob bananas (that’s what I call productive) when I realize that he has something in his hand that doesn’t look like anything I’m feeding him. I look down into the seat of the high chair and discover that we’ve experienced a diaper explosion. No matter how many times I do this, there is still something unsettling about green slimy goo with whole raisins in it coming from my baby’s bottom end. We wash, we bathe, we sanitize, and then since I’m in the bathroom anyway, I call those other two boys to get into the tub and wash the dried banana off their noses, elbows and anywhere else it might reside.
Jacob is clean and as I changed him I noticed that his diaper was pretty much empty, so either in my rush to get it on him or in his own wiggly way, we ended up with the diaper off to the side and the mess primarily in the chair…
Oh yeah, there is still some on the floor…
I am distracted by life, but I am glad to be living it… all day, everyday.
So, if you see me at an event and you really feel you must ask, “When is the next book going to be out?” please understand when I answer, “Hmmm.”