Critics & Control Freaks—Are You Your Own Worst Enemy?

I confess. I am normally uptight, controlling and neurotic but after the recent death of my grandmother who raised me? Where I might have been a five seven twelve, I was suddenly a fifty (on a scale of ten). I felt flung to the winds and adrift. I was out of control and that is not a feeling I enjoy.

Monday, I was really tired so I wasn’t up to taking Spawn to summer camp where he normally goes for a few hours so Mommy can work.

And so it begins….

Kids have a really honest and refreshing way of getting right to the point.

For instance. Recently we went out to dinner at a nice Mediterranean restaurant. I stand up and Spawn (Age 6) suddenly looks up at me aghast as if he is seeing me for the first time and loudly proclaims.

“Mommy! Your boobs are HUGE!”

Thanks kid, just thanks.

And the table of men nearby had to be scraped off the floor laughing.

Unlike friends and family, kids don’t sugar coat anything and we are wise to listen. Additionally beyond what children say, it is what they DO that can give us the most to learn.

Back to being too lazy to take Spawn to camp. I am busy uploading my guest post and trying to dig out of the mountain of emails that were left unchecked while I lay in bed for a week.

My left eye already had a permanent twitch from the piles of laundry to do, the stacks of dishes and all the work that lay ahead. I was super busy self-flagellating about how I was such a royal jerk for not getting edits back to students yet and how I was a selfish jerk for taking a week and a half to get my head on straight after my grandmother’s death.

Selfish Kristen! Horrible Kristen!

Spawn? What better time to decide to build a FORT? And right next to where Mommy is working so she can enjoy it!

Okay.

At this point in time I was all right. Writing professionally is akin to being a war correspondent, especially for anyone with small kids and pets. No big deal. I am cool. I got this. I survived the Blueberry Yogurt Fiasco of 2014 and the Projectile Vomit Debacle of 2015. I’ve blogged while sustaining heavy NERF fire.

I totally got this.

Spawn THEN decides he is lonely in his fort and wants Johnny Cat in there with him.

At first he is wrestling with the cat (over my computer—where else?). I stop and say…

“You cannot force a cat to go anywhere. Let me get you a cat trap (pictured above). Set this baby inside and you will have a cat in less than 3 minutes.” Proof I am a genius (pictured below).

Enter….Johnny Cat.

I keep writing and this fort just starts to grow…

And grow….

And OH DEAR GOD IT IS THE BORG!
RESISTANCE IS FUTILE. YOU WILL BE ASSIMILATED….

By noon I am pretty much pushed out of my work area because I didn’t want to be assimilated along with two nursing pillows, Thanksgiving pumpkin decorations and pretty much every worldly possession Spawn has.

My OCD is going wild by now (actually my CDO because why is this NOT in alphabetical order as it should be?).

SO ME!

I’ve always been transparent with you guys because I want you to know that you are not alone. Most of us struggle. We beat ourselves up that we are not good enough that we should be trying harder, that we should be doing more. When we do write, we are our own worst critics and can edit the magic right out of a story with our insecurity.

Every level has its insecurities and challenges. When we are new, we feel guilty for writing because we aren’t yet “real” writers and so we are totally selfish jerks for writing because it isn’t as if we are published *rolls eyes*.

But how do we ever become successfully published unless we write a BOOK? Then once we do publish the pressure only grows. Now we need more books and this book didn’t do as well as that book and OH GOD! I HIT #1…but can I ever do it again? Am I a one-hit wonder?

Am I Tarzan Boy Writer?

I have a bad habit of setting myself up to fail no matter what I do. If I spend a day cleaning the house, then I suck because I didn’t get any writing done. If I write, then I am a terrible housekeeper. If I hire a cleaning service, then I am being wasteful with money.

Hey I warned y’all I was a neurotic in the beginning