Children and Divorce: And Now For Some Really Depressing News

I awoke early Tuesday morning with my throat so swollen and sore I couldn’t swallow, mucous streaming from nearly every orifice above my shoulders. I could not utter a sound that was even recognizable as speech.  My daughter felt much the same.  I knew I needed to call in a sub.  Two days later, most of it spent sleeping and reading (I certainly had no energy for anything else and the reading was pushing my limits), I think I might be well enough to return to work tomorrow.  The book I managed to devour between naps was, The Unexpected Legacy of Divorce, by Wallerstein, Lewis, & Blakeslee.  I’m warning you.  It isn’t a cheery read.  In fact, I had tears streaming down my cheeks at points.

I stumbled across this little find at my local book exchange.  I’m always up for reading some research (yeah, I’m kind of nerdy like that), especially about families of divorce, stepfamilies and how all of this impacts children. (Maybe because it is just a little close to home for me?)  This one billed itself as a landmark study because it was the only one that tracked children of divorce from the time their parents split up until they reached full adulthood. It was a 25-year-study. Since I work with kids and their parents many of them divorced and re-married, and since I myself am the child of divorce as are my own children, I thought this might be an interesting read.  It was indeed interesting, but it was not cheery. Wallerstein’s findings are sobering, relevant, deeply saddening, and yet more hopeful than one would expect.

I would recommend that anyone considering divorce, in the process of divorce, or now in the post-divorce family read this book.  I wish I’d read it 4 years ago.  It would have helped me support my children more effectively through the divorce process. Of course, to be honest, I was so stressed and fragmented (as many who undergo divorce are) that I’m not sure I’d have read it.  Which just underscores a significant aspect of this research.  The book also details children’s perspectives of parenting plans, remarriage, step-parents and life after divorce.

The most salient point of Wallerstein’s study, for me, is that no matter when the divorce occurs, no matter what the reason for the divorce, and regardless how amicable or not the divorce is, risk factors for children significantly increase while protective factors that were in place when the marriage was intact are diminished. I don’t think this is new news for any of us, but Wallerstein was able to get behind the eyes of the children in this study and reveal how that reality impacts and shapes children of divorce. She (Wallerstein) does not draw from this conclusion that divorce should never happen.  The author does conclude that we’ve just not been aware of the impact divorce has on children from the child’s perspective until now.  Maybe now, we can begin thinking more about divorce from the perspective of not just what works for the parents, but what works for the children throughout all their developmental levels. Wallerstein goes on to mention that the debilitating impact of divorce is often not evident until children reach adulthood and begin to enter into relationships and marriages of their own.  In other words, divorce has lasting effects on children, no matter how good things appear on the outside. (Personally, I suspect most of us parents know this. We just feel uncertain as to how to deal with this reality.)  These are just a few of the highlights I’ve gleaned and tried to summarize, and which were significant to me as I devoured her over 330 page book.  Oh, and the book does include specifics about the research design and the statistical results of study for those who are interested.

As for me, it was impossible for me to read this book casually without some serious personal introspection.  I am, after all, the mother of four children, all of whom experienced divorce, two of them when they were in elementary school and two of them when they were in preschool.  This book forced me to look at myself and my parenting since the divorce.  I’m asking myself questions because, if I’m to be the best support for my children that I can (and diminished parenting is cited by Wallerstein as one of the biggest perils of divorce), then I must take inventory. 

Some of the questions I’m grappling with are:

• Given that children often tend to either act out or stuff their feelings behind an ultra compliant approach, how are my children really doing?
• Am I giving my children opportunities to express their fears and their anger (and yes they have both) about the divorce?
• Am I taking the necessary time to parent them or am I so preoccupied with survival and keeping the family afloat that I am unintentionally neglecting their very real emotional needs.
• Are any of my children taking on the parenting role?  What am I doing to reinforce this if it is happening?
• How do I balance the stresses and demands of my adult world, the needs I have for adult love and companionship, with my children’s needs for protection, comfort, care and emotional connection with me…and…when do I get any rest?  (I say that last a little bit tongue in cheek, but fatigue is a big stressor and leads to illness as I’ve learned of late.)

And there are more questions lurking within. 

I’m really not depressed and I’m not beating myself up as a parent after reading this study, but, like the veil being lifted, I certainly see some areas I need to work on for my children’s sake.  I also see some areas that I’ve done well, which is reassuring. It has certainly given me a great deal to consider regarding my parenting, dating as a single parent and, if it ever arises, the idea of remarriage. We grow a little at a time all throughout our lives.  This book just revealed some areas that I think I need to check up on.

As I re-read this post, I realize I’ve only shared the down side aspects of the research.  There is much cause for hope and encouragement as the result of Wallerstein’s work.  I don’t want to be a spoiler, so you’ll just have to read it for yourself. 

Lessons from Family Guy

It’s been said that children are always learning and learning all the time.  The real question is, “What exactly is it they are learning?”.  Further, the concerned parent might go so far as to ask where are they learning it and from whom? I’m warning you.  Don’t explore this too deeply.  The knowledge you discover might  alarm you if it doesn’t send you to your grave early.

Today, I was attempting to convey the meaning of the word synagogue to a group of fourth graders.  The word for some of them who are still learning English is a bit of a mouthful and I wanted to help attach some meaning to it for them since, it was in our reading selection for the week.  Don’t get all alarmed that I wasn’t respecting the proper division between church and state.  We were reading an Encyclopedia Brown excerpt.

After explaining the meaning of the word synagogue, one of my students blurted out in frustration, “Awwww!  I should have known that!  I learned that off Family Guy!”

Okay, maybe my definition was off…I’ve got to go back and check Websters.

Sigh.

Children are always learning and learning all the time.

Even in homes where television, radio and computer access are strictly controlled and monitored, children learn things that their parents are less than happy about.  Even though a parent might be diligent in monitoring the influences that children are exposed to, it is difficult to monitor the influences their friends are exposed to.

In spite of the very large influence that school, friends and media have on how children are influenced and what they learn, the home (generally) and parents (in particular) are the most influential factor in a child’s learning and development.

It is also often the case that what we intend to teach is not exactly what was learned.

Children are always learning and learning all the time.

What are you teaching?

Is this what they are learning?

How can one be sure?

I ask the questions simply because, if we are to be honest, our children learn far more from who we are than what we tell them.  Are they learning what we want them to learn? Better yet, are they learning what I want them to learn?

Monsoons of Adolescence or How Parenting a Teenager is Sometimes Like Experiencing A Sudden Flash Flood.

Ever been in Tucson in the middle of the summer?  For me, the weather is gorgeous.  I love opening my door and feeling that blast of heat that resembles an oven set to 450 degrees.  I lived in Tucson one summer and loved every minute of it.  It was the only time as a parent that I enjoyed the stay-at-home-mommy status. 

One thing that comes with that glorious heat is the instantaneous monsoon weather.  One minute the sky is brilliantly blue and the weather hot.  Perfect tanning times.  The next moment, you are running for cover under a downpour so torrential even a native Oregonian would fear for her life.  Flash floods are no joking matter.  Monsoon season is just a way of life for the native Southwesterner.  I loved it, but during my short stay in the region, I never got over the sudden switch the weather could make from serene to stormy. 

Sometimes we mess up as parents and make the wrong decision or say something ( even well intentioned) in a way that wasn’t received quite the way we hoped by the teenager. Before we know it, the sunny weather in our home has transitioned to hurricane force gales with words hurling like debris in a tornado. 

In instances like these, you might wonder, what just happened there? You might also wonder, why am I saying that?  Or why is he/she saying that?!

The reality is, no matter how good we become as parents, we are bound to have some conflict with our teenager at some point. My mother used to suggest that the best remedy for this sudden monsoon like behavior in our teen is, simply, to dig a hole, bury them and unearth them when they turn 25.  Now, I’m not sure how practical it would be to bury anyone alive, let alone a teenager (especially if they have a cell phone with text messaging), but I got my mom’s point:  sometimes all you can do when dealing with the sudden mood shifts is to hang on and wait out the storm.

Sometimes those mood shifts are unexpected and unexplained.  Sometimes, we as parents, create them by being less than supportive, or positive or by not listening closely enough to our child.  Whatever the case, even in the best of homes some conflict is bound to occur.

What strategies do you employ to mend the rifts and stay connected?

If Life Were A Supermarket, Where Would I Find You?

Copyright CABrasseur, 2009

Some of you might know that I have another blog titled Welcome To CABsPlace. I’ve kind of let that dangle a bit as I try to clarify really what my own vision is for each of my blogs.  For now, I think I’ve decided to make CABsPlace more of my personal or family blog and have it deal more with parenting, home improvement, and single mommy stuff, while this one will address more adult themes of mid-life singles, divorce, relationships, dating, self-improvement and personal growth, as well as parenting.  To that end, I am going to start moving some of the CABsPlace Posts over here in cases where the content is more suitable for this blog.  This is the first of such posts.  You’ll know the original post content because the font will appear (hopefully) in a different color.  And, yes, I am taking liberties, at times to edit and enhance (this does not mean re-write) the posts when necessary.

I hope you enjoy these.  Some of them are my earlier works and it is interesting to see how much I’ve changed in my thinking and my writing in the last couple of years. Do, please, let me know what you think.  The feedback is incredibly valuable to me.  

The email comment read, “If life were a supermarket, I bet I’d find you in the desserts and treats aisle”. I pondered this statement momentarily, thinking, well that’s a pretty creative way of putting yourself out there.  However, I thought to myself as I gazed at the digital text, I’m not so sure that’s entirely accurate. I mean, desserts and treats?  Fun?  Yes.  Sweet and yummy? I like to think so in the right circumstances with the right kind of guy.  Complete fluff and no real relational nutrition?  Not so much.

I decided to rewrite myself as if my life were a supermarket. Where would one find me? Here’s my start to that creative question. 

Check out the decadent phallic symbols in this picture!

If life were a supermarket, I’d be in the desserts and treats section because I am fun, sweet, yummy, tasty and gooey and, at times, in the appropriate context with a suitable member of the opposite sex, very decadent.  I’d also be in the fine wines section because I am aging well and I deserve to be savored rather than gulped and tossed aside.  You’d find me in the the tri-tip steak section because I am tender, flavorful, tasteful and authentically real unlike the hot dogs or bologna slices you find in the processed lunch meats aisle.  You’ll  find me in the produce aisle especially near the dark green leafy vegetables, the mushrooms and the zucchini because I am really down to earth, health conscious, but not fanatical. You’d find me in the coffee aisle because the smell of fresh brewed coffees is more about ambiance that caffeine and mood is so important to a satisfying relationship.  You’d find me in the cleansers and detergent aisle because while I’m not OCD, I am definitely a bit of a neat freak and I like my home and my things and my children to be clean…as well as myself and my own clothing. Of course, you’d find me in the toiletries aisle, at some point, because like all good moms, I take care of the details and I’m prepared for any emergency. You would not find me in the fast food or chips and dip section, because I have a bit more substance than that. However, even I have been known on occasion to indulge in popcorn or cotton candy and even I, on occasion drink a beer. But I don’t frequent those aisles often and if you caught me there it would be a chance meeting indeed. You might find me in the section with wild jalapeno peppers because I can be hot and spicy.  You’d find me in the International Foods section because I love the world, it’s peoples and hope to travel to meet them someday in their own countries, at their own tables, in their own settings. In short, you’d find me in any aisle with food that authentic food goes well with fine wine, friends, good music, good times and the making of cherished memories…that is…if my life were a supermarket.

Now, if your life were a supermarket, where would I find you???

Have fun with this!  I look forward to your comments.

Have You Ever Noticed?

Okay, so I’m kind of going through a list making phase as prompts for my creative thinking ventures.  The list of the day for me is…

Have You Ever Noticed….

…how if a guy is really into something say football or biking or quads or Nascar and a girl is really into that guy she’ll try to get into whatever he’s into but it doesn’t usually work the other way around?

…how it used to be looked down on to be a stay-at-home mom and now if a woman makes that choice it is more accepted?

…how when you’re in a funk you have to spend some time dealing with it and many times after the funk is over you regret the time you wasted?

…how life can turn on a dime?  Things are rolling right along quite nicely, then the smallest thing happens and it feels like you’ve been thrown into a brick wall at a 100 miles an hour with no protective gear.

…how socks go into the laundry with a perfect match but come out as a single.  Moral of this story?  Lovers should never do laundry together.

…how you can show a kid how to do something a million times and they never get it right…till they move out on their own and get their own place, then suddenly they understand how to do it perfectly.

…how the garbage man has a great job?  He gets to drive around in the big cushy truck all day, never touching the garbage, he gets paid good money and he doesn’t have to take work home with him.

…how most single working moms wish they had a wife who would cook dinner for them and help with the bedtime and bath routine and taxi jobs at the end of the day?

…how when you go to a new medical care provider filling out the form once is not enough, they then have to get a copy of the form, and then you have to go to the inner office where they punch all the same stuff into the computer again. And forget about if you are referred to another provider!

…how kids think they can convince you they aren’t lying by vehemently defending their untruth even though you saw with your own eyes otherwise.  “I didn’t hit her!”  “Uh, excuse me?  I just saw your fist windup and let ‘er fly and land right in her arm!” 

…how you never really crave a particular food (like bread or  pasta) till you decide to cut back on it, then you can’t get enough of it and this is before you’ve even actually started cutting back?!

…how lists like this can be really fun or really tedious or both.  Guess that must mean it is time to end this one…unless, of course…you have something to add?

Taking Responsibility!

A life of reaction is a life of slavery, intellectually and spiritually. One must fight for a life of action, not reaction. – Rita Mae Brown

That’s it!  I’m taking responsibility!  I admit it!  I did write my last post about chickens.  Some may have perceived it as disrespectful to chickens.  Some might even believed that I speak disrespectfully about chickens in front of my children and that this makes me a poor parent.  I also feed my children chicken and sometimes eggs!  Now, I know that there are those out there who disagree intensely with this approach to parenting.  There are those who think children should not be fed chicken or eggs and that by even mentioning it here on this blog I’m a wicked vile person.  I don’t know, maybe they were a chicken themselves in a former life and therefore they take my approach to all things chicken as a personal affront. 

I can’t take responsibility for their issues.  All I can say is I did write that last post about chickens. 

Furthermore, I’m not going to allow myself to live a life of reaction. I’m not, I tell you, not going to stop writing about chickens (or anything else I want to write about in any way I choose to write about it)  just because a few, who presume to know me, but really don’t,  malign me for doing so.  In fact, just to prove my integrity I’m going to post pictures of chickens.  I want to do it, so I am!  If this is too painful for you, feel free to click off!

Here we go.  This is Chicken Youth. Hopeful, cheerful, always outgoing.  Loves to learn new things, especially how to be a good little pecker.

 

 

 

 

 

This is Kelly Rooster.  He’s a handsome and proud cock.  However, he treated his last wife a little fowl.  He’s single and not in a relationship yet…but I dare say he soon will be. He might be in several simultaneously.  He is a fowl, skanky bird.

 

 

 

 This is the poster art for the new movie, “Poultrygeist”.  I haven’t seen the trailer for it, but I hear there are a bunch of sexy chicks and hot cocks running around killing each other and basically screwing up the set.

 

 

 

The chicken below was on the front page of our local paper last year.  Apparently, this chicken went postal!  Caused a lot of damage, as you can see, to the mailbox there.  They caught him in the act.  He plead guilty.  Now he’s cooped up in the state pen forever. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 The chickens pictured to the right are petrified.  They were discovered on a dig a friend of mine went on last summer as a part of his graduate research.  He has a lot of pull so he was able to bring these back.  Don’t they look good for being buried beneath the earth for a kazillion years? I think this proves which came first.  They’ve yet to find any chicken remains that date older than these eggs.

This concludes my chicken activism for today.  There, I’ve taken responsibility for the last post I wrote and I’ve taken action by allowing the negative comments in prior chicken posts to deter me from writing about a subject of my own choosing. 

I do feel better now…and maybe…just maybe I can let this chicken obsession go forever.

Valentine’s Day Babysitting Shortage

The closest I'll get to a Valentine this year

Well, let’s see.  How does a single 40-somethin’ woman talk about Valentine’s Day?  I guess I could say I will end up getting at least 33 Valentines.  Sadly, they will be from people far younger than I.  All of them adore me and think the world of me, and I can’t really ask for much more than that.  

However, in adult world, I will be sitting at home enjoying Valentines with a very special 8-year-old.  Yeah, I did get invites out.  More that one, that’d be plural.  Actually worked really hard to try to find babysitting for the 8-year-old, but after about the 5th attempt, I decided, I simply didn’t want to try anymore.  Now the person I am trying to get the babysitting arranged for will feel as though I am really not that into him and I will have to explain and if he understands that I just can’t feel good about leaving my sweet child with just any old stranger (I feel kinda weird leaving her anyway, stranger or no) then things will be fine.  If he doesn’t understand, then I guess another one bites the dust.  I’ve exhausted all my options and I just refuse to leave my child with someone she doesn’t know so I can go out and have dinner with a nice man and all his friends and their wives/girlfriends. 

This is where it all feels bad.  He’s not going to be able to go out with his friends and their significant others without being the odd man out.  I’m not going to be able to go and feel good since all five of the folks I usually call on to babysit are unavailable, including my own two older children.  On an adult level, in one way, probably one very minor and insignificant way, really, this just doesn’t feel good.  I hate letting people down like this. It’s not likely he’s going to be aware of how difficult it really is to get a babysitter on Valentine’s Day and will likely view it as a cop out on my part, which it won’t be, but it won’t matter. When no familiar babysitters are available, I feel so much like I’m abandoning my child. I’ve paid for a babysitter for her once over the last year.  I just don’t ever go out when my kids are with me. But…it is Valentine’s Day and, well….I should have known it was going to be the most difficult day of the year to arrange babsitting.  Even if someone didn’t have plans, for them to admit it would be a bit like them admitting they are a loser and have no life (j/k).

No matter how hard it will be to call tomorrow and say, “Hey, I’m sorry it just isn’t going to work out, blah, blah, blah”, nothing is worth my little girl’s security and happiness.  She’s absolutely my favorite Valentine.  I won’t mind for a minute spending time with her.  I only wish I’d remembered how difficult babysitters are to find on Valentine’s to begin with and said no before saying yes.

More From The Friendship Files: Another Near Death Experience

I missed half a day at work yesterday.  Not true.  I missed half a day in my classroom because I was pulled out for a regional training.  It was a Very Good Regional Training and I am so much the better teacher and employee now for it. I actually ended up working two and a half extra hours without compensation,  just for the privilege of saying I received this Very Good Regional Training. However, it would have to happen on the day that my assistant and friend, previously referred to as “ReGifting Friend” experienced another near death experience.  It was rather exciting, she actually did almost die and they called the paramedics and everything.  Tons of cool drama.  Sorry I missed it.  I experienced nothing quite so exciting or adrenaline boosting as that in my Very Good Regional Training. 

When I returned to work today, there was ReGifting Friend, cute and skinny as ever.  Her near death experience certainly didn’t add any stress pounds to her body.  She told me the story and, like most of her stories, it is definitely worth retelling here.

At lunch, it seems ReGifting Friend was eating her very healthy low cal (that’s why she’s skinny) salad with cherry tomatoes on it.  In one particular bit, seems a fiesty tomato got a bit excited and decided to jump down her throat. Well, being the obstinate tomato that it was, it lodged right there in her throat.  It wouldn’t move up, it wouldn’t move down. 

ReGifting Friend definitely exhibited all the signs of a choking individual, the most notable being she could not talk and she was turning blue.  Two others in the staff room with her tried the Heimlich maneuver on her.  They were not successful.  Well, as we all know the human body cannot function well for very long without air and ReGifting Friend had exceeded that point.  She was quite aware that if something didn’t happen in just seconds she would be blacking out and in serious trouble. 

In those few brief seconds before she passed out, ReGifting Friend remembers thinking, “Oh My God.  I’m going to die right here at the school my children attend the very week of my daughter’s birthday.”

Dying.

At a place your children have to revisit daily. 

During week for your family that is usually celebratory and not sad.

ReGifting Friend’s last thoughts before she went unconscious were not of her own well being or even fear of dying.  It was for her kids and how they would be impacted, not just temporarily but in weeks, days and years to come.  This is the friend I’ve come to call ReGifting Friend.  Like the Energizer Bunny she does keep giving and giving… and going and going.

The fiesty tomato was downed with one final thrust just below the sternum.  ReGifting Friend’s airways were clear and she was still, though only barely, conscious.  A few minutes later she was fine and laughing about the mishap but later weeping about the impact of what she thought may have been her final moments. 

She goes on to tell humorously of the 5 buff paramedics who walked in and would not leave until they checked her out completely.  (Yeah, uh huh.  I only wish I’d been there to see that! I do miss all the fun!)

Later that day, my youngest who had to go home with ReGifting Friend for the afternoon while I was at that Very Good Regional Training bounced up to her and said, “Hey!  Did you hear?  Somebody almost died at school today!  The paramedics were here.”  ReGifting Friend just laughed. 

More than 24 hours later when she told me the story, ReGifting Friend’s eyes welled up with tears again as she remembered those thoughts of dying before the tomato was dislodged.

And I ask you…what would you want your last thoughts in this life to be?

Ideas For Musings Submitted by Readers…#1

If you click on over to my page titled “Submit Ideas For Future Musings” you will see that reader Kip submitted several interesting and thought provoking topics for consideration.  All of them are good but after some thought, I’m choosing his last one, which I wonder if he suggested because he might have Google Earthed me or something and found out something he thought I didn’t already know.  Anyway, the topic for this reader submitted post idea is:

How about the Wild Mind’s response to a known sex offender moving in just a couple doors away from where she and her four children live?

Here’s my response:  Big Fucking Deal.

Now, before y’all go gettin’ sideways on me and accusin’ me of being the worst candidate for Mother of the Year, let me explain.  If you Google earth me, the house you come up with will not be mine.  Sorry, I’ve tried it.  Many folks have tried it.  You get the wrong house every time.  So, let me say this.  I do have a convicted sex offender living in my neighborhood, closer to me than I’m going to reveal, for his protection in spite of the fact that Google Earth has our locations off.

Let me also say this.  I found this out because he and his wife (he never goes anywhere in the neighborhood without his wife) showed up on my doorstep a month or two after I moved in and told me the whole long sad story.  He is truly a convicted sex offender and earned the label.

Let me further say…he is the best neighbor I have.  I would go so far as to say he is the best neighbor anyone could have. 

I’ve lived in my home for 5  years now. The man has never done anything inappropriate.  He goes to work, comes home, drives up into his garage, the door closese securely behind him and he goes into his house from the garage.  He interacts with neighbors when necessary and is always appropriate in his demeanor and distance.  He lives with shame of choices in his past that keep him harbored away in his home with minimal contact with the outside world. He’s a homeowner, not a renter, and for someone with a prison record that’s quite an accomplishment.  He has two children and a wife and they’ve tried to give their children the most normal stable childhood they can, in spite of the laws of my area that say every single person must be notified of the residences of convicted sex offenders. This notification occurs by the local police force showing up on one’s doorstep each year with a flyer with the person’s picture plastered prominently on it.

This man is the neighbor who walks boldly up to strangers in cars who do not live in the area, asks what they are doing there, then gets their license plate numbers.  This is the neighbor who if I need help carrying in the big TV I bought three years ago came over to help me (wife was with him, of course).  This is the neighbor who helped me gather wood this summer.  This is the neighbor I can rely on to watch my back should strange people be hanging around my place. This is the neighbor I make sure I inform that I am going to be out of town so he can be on the look out for anything awry.  I do the same for them when they are out of town. This is the neighbor who’s kids come over swim in my pool and play with my kids.   His wife comes over and gives me hand me down close for my youngest all the time.   This is the neighbor, and the only neighbor I might add, that if I really needed help would be there for me. 

My kids know the score.  They never go over there alone, nor would he want them too.  He is all about changing his life and living right, even though he knows he has to deal with the consequences.  He doesn’t complain.  He realizes that he’s earned all the treatment he receives.  He only regrets what this means for his children and the shadow of shame and humiliation they have endured because of his folly. This is where our system in its great attempt to keep people informed and criminals in check goes wrong.

He’s lived in this neighborhood longer than I.  He didn’t move in after I was here. He’s been completely honest with me about his past and the public records validate this.  He and his family were the first and only ones to greet me in this neighborhood when I moved in , they continue to be one of only two households who are even remotely friendly to me.  If anyone has ever earned the clean slate treatment this man has. And if I ever move from this neighborhood, he and his family will be the neighbors I miss most.

Any Ideas?

I set aside specific time for writing each day.  Well, each day that I’m off from work I do.  Days that I work, I have to schedule differently.  When I’m not dashing to work to do my day job, I like to get up early (well, not that early) and write before the kids wake up.  Today, I slept in though. I don’t know why I slept in so late on this particular day.  I didn’t go to bed that late last night.  I mean, after the kids and I watched a movie, I crashed on the monster green couch in front of the wood stove.  I usually do this in the winter.  The couch is comfy and the wood stove needs to be refueled about midnight, then again at two in order to keep the place warm enough that I don’t have to run the gas heat incessantly.  In addition, the couch is just warm and ultra comfy cozy.  My bed is also warm and ultra comfy cozy but it is located at the far end of the house in the coldest room of the house so getting to it means I must brave some near Arctic temperatures just to enjoy the haven of the massive king size four poster that I call my bed.  (Sadly, so do my children whenever they feel moved, or frightened by monsters under their beds.  I keep telling them they should clean up!)  So, I dozed there on the plush couch till about two in the morning, stoked up the fire and went to bed just like I do every other night of the winter months, even when I have to wake up at o’dark thirty to get to work.  So why, today, would I sleep in till 9:30?  I don’t get it. 

Whether I get it or not, it is now after breakfast and pushing lunch time.  All the kids are up, dishes need to be washed (and I don’t have a dishwasher other than the four children), two of the girls are squabbling about how to arrange the room they share (Arrange it?  I’d just like them to clean it!) and the son keeps trying to sneak onto the Playstation to play his Madden ’08 game.  I have to work out in the garage and figure out what I’ll fix for dinner (I hate that part the most!).  My day is nearly over before it’s begun it seems. 

So much for my writing time today.

Two days later:

I saved that first bit as a draft hoping to return to it before the day ended so I could post.  I’m really working hard at writing daily and posting daily on both my blogs (I actually have three).  I’m doing this because I’ve found that the mere blog format keeps me accountable.  More people read when I write.  When I don’t write reading slacks off.  However, this is not my motivation for writing on my blog, it is merely a perk.  I write, because someday I hope to supplement my income with said writing.  Okay, that’s not really even true.  I write, because since I was in about 4th grade, I had this dream of being a published author.  I’ve actually been afraid to pursue that dream…rejection is huge in the writing industry and I wasn’t up to it.   I am more up to it now.  Just like anyone who hopes to be good at what they do, they have to practice and work on improving.  That’s what this blogging thing is to me: an opportunity to practice, hopefully improve and gain feedback from readers willing to give their input.

Scheduling time to write with a houseful of kids around and no spouse or significant other or nanny to assist is one of the most challenging tasks I’ve faced to date….okay, besides changing the light fixtures…which ended up being incredibly easy.  So, I’m thinking it is possible that this scheduling dilemma I face has a fairly simple solution which I’m currently unable to see…probably because I’m being a baby and don’t want to see it yet.  After all, being a baby is easier than simply growing up and taking control of your life.  In the end, it doesn’t feel good as an adult, to be baby, so eventually I must take control.  I believe that time  is now.

I cannot change the fact that my life is incredibly busy and full.  I actually like that.

I can’t change the fact that writing requires time, sometimes a great deal of time, for questionable results, and time is a precious commodity for me.

I know that if I don’t write daily I feel like I’ve missed out on part of my life somehow. 

I’m wondering what do other writers do to balance all the demands of their busy lives and still get the writing written?  Not everyone is a career writer.  Some have to share the writing job with the day job.  How on earth do they manage to do that, take care of kids, do laundry, eat, workout and fold clothes.  I don’t get it.

Any ideas?