Necessary Distractions (or Life Goes On No Matter How Badly You Want to Write)

You probably know I'm happily married (20 years this November) and have two children, a Jack Russell with a Napoleon complex and two of the laziest cats in the world (and that's saying something). If you have even one child, you know how distracting they can be sometimes. Mine are 18 and 12, so they're somewhat self-sufficient. But here's the thing. They talk. All. The. Time.

If they're watching TV, I get a play-by-play, because, hey, these ear buds in my ear don't mean I don't care about that TV show. They simply mean I enjoy exercising my hand to put them in and take them out repeatedly so I can hear a description of the "hilarious" scene you just watched. Right.

My son talks about his new truck, his girlfriend, Dr. Who (sorry, I'm more of a Dr. Who-Cares kinda woman). He talks about college and what he wants to do with his life. He talks about food. He talks about the Texas Rangers; this will change eventually to the Texas Aggies and the Dallas Cowboys.

My daughter talks about...wow, what doesn't she talk about? Let's see, there's school (even during the summer, she talks about school), friends, church, camp, music, hair (color, length and style), clothes, shoes, phones (she NEEDS a front-facing camera), books (mine and others), school supplies, what she wants to do with her life, Say Yes to the Dress (yeah, not for SEVERAL years)...let's see, what else? I'm sure I've missed something.

My husband, normally a quiet man, also sees my ear buds as his cue to talk to me. He will, on a regular basis, ask me a question about one of the kids...who are usually sitting right there with him. I am the official translator for my family; I'm not certain why this is necessary, as they all speak English, but whatever. It seems to be mandatory to relay questions and statements through me, as if they're all giving each other the silent treatment. (I feel compelled to point out, they very seldom ever give ME the silent treatment.) I once asked in frustration, "If I get hit by a bus tomorrow, how will y'all talk to each other?" He looked at me and said, "Stay outta the street." Thank you, honey, for that sage advice.

There's laundry, dishes, dinner, and all the other assorted things that come with a home and family. You know the ones.

Add to that the necessary evil that is the self-promotion needed on the part of a self-published author (i.e., Facebook and Twitter), and the need to stop occasionally to just listen to a song when a lyric jumps out at me, and it's truly a wonder I get anything written.

For a (mostly) SAHM, my life is pretty crazy and very distracting from the writing process. And I wouldn't trade a minute of it. Not one word, not one song, not one friend and certainly not my husband or children. Sorry, readers, you'll just have to be patient.

Happy Reading (eventually)!