Well, That Was Ridiculous

One of my writing coach's techniques to get me focusing on the work is to have me track how I spend my time. How much time is spent working other jobs, sleeping, taking care of the house and kids, playing stupid addictive games on my phone, doom scrolling, etc? The goal, obviously, is to find places where I can sneak extra writing time in. I've been fairly good at this lately- I removed almost all of the social media platforms off of my phone (mental health and time saving game changer) and have largely been achieving my goal of working on all three of my writing projects daily. (Querying agents on my big family saga book, rewriting my rom-com, and editing my middle grade fantasy).

Yesterday, I dropped a kid off at school at 8:30 and had until 1:45pm to write. An endless swath of time! I cleaned the house a little, walked the tumor dog in the rain, paid some bills, made soup AND made a decent dent in one of my writing goals for the day. Huzzah! I was about to jump into the others when at 12:30, I got a call from a kid's school that they'd busted an ankle doing the long jump in PE and can I come and pick them up? The other parent had to be summoned from work, which happens way too often, and went to the urgent care to get a (sprained, not broken!) kid fitted for crutches while I volunteered with the other kid at their afterschool sports club followed by therapy. When we all got home from all our shenanigans, it was just in time for marriage counseling.

I did a little more writing work after that and had to finish the funny Netflix murdery mystery show I was binging (obviously), and finally went to bed around midnight. Within thirty minutes I heard sounds in the house that sounded suspiciously like a child, watching Youtube, and you'll never guess what I found! After I chastised and chased them to (our) bed, I lay there, suspicious, in and out of sleep for the rest of the night.

No problem. Today will be my day to write! I woke to my alarm at 6:15 to try to get some work done with my coffee in a quiet house- when I start my days like this, they usually go better. By seven, the guilty party from the wee hours of the night was negotiating their consequences (no TV for a few days, which is as much a punishment for me as miscreant kid) and the other one was seen lurching around the house on the new crutches, trying to break themself and the whole house. The crutchy one had a late start for school and wanted to show off said crutches, so came with me to drop off the other one at their school. The car had no gas. We pulled up to the gas station on fumes, to school barely on time, and finally returned home to find my spouse had dutifully locked the house for the first time in his life and I had neglected to bring my house key. Crutched kid and I went to pick up key from spouse at work, then retrieved backpack from house, all whilst frantically texting to rearrange carpool situation with friend, finally dropped second child off at school....and just as I got back home to start writing, got call from school saying said child didn't have medical clearance from urgent care...which had been in their backpack, but was now was mysteriously on the kitchen table??

Sigh into infinite. Did I mention that all of that was me in glasses, unshowered, in my pajamas? Big ol' breakfast and more coffee and now, at 10:30 am finally calm and alone enough to write.

Until someone else calls to fuck it all up.

I am trying to get these kids raised. I am trying to get these books written and sold. I am trying to pay rent in this ridonc expensive place in this terrible economy. I am trying to be part of the revolution....but, like, when? How's anyone doing anything when ALL THIS NONSENSE HAPPENS EVERY DAMNED DAY?

My internal work over the last few years has been to stay focused on the tiny little things right in front of me that I can control. I can control my center, even when things are sliding off sideways. I can be kind and caring, thoughtful, present, vulnerable, careful with myself and those around me. I can do all that. So far that's how I'm continuing to take baby steps forward and not just collapse under all of it. It never feels like enough, but it's something. Even though there's so much to be done to save ourselves and each other, to heal, to create art. At least it's something. I'm up, I'm trying.

After all this chaos this morning, my kid and spouse and I were able to laugh about it. Mostly. That's something, I think.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go write before the universe notices.