Here’s why I don’t get up early to write. Because my children, my darling, wonderful, light-of-my-life children, have a psychic connection to my sleep cycles. They know when I am awake and come hell or high water, they will be too.
I never get up early to write because it’s not pretty when I wake up. It’s usually two or three snoozes, one song on the radio, my husband being all awake and happy to see me, and me telling him to turn off the bright lights.
But I’m working on about four different pieces right now and my mind is spinning and work (you know, regular work, the job that pays the bills) has been so hectic that I haven’t had a moment to write all week. So I knew Dave was right when he said I just have to do it – get up, hit the coffee pot, don’t dawdle, and get to the computer.
I set my clock for half an hour early (if I elminate the snoozes I’ll have almost an hour to write). I was hopeful for some good early morning writing time, when the words just pour out. Turned on the computer, got the coffee made, sat down to log in, and heard the thumping upstairs.
praying praying praying praying it’s Dave getting up. No, the sounds are coming from the wrong end of the hall… a little more praying but knowing it’s hopeless…
I go upstairs to make sure whatever son is awake is not waking up Daddy, who only gets to sleep in one day a week (and that’s partially why today was writing day. I can get up and write but I can’t be civilized to boot).
Older is apologizing for being awake, he says “I’m sorry I just can’t sleep.” I am being the most gracious person ever when I give him love and tell him that it’s really OK and just to come downstairs. He asks if I’m awake and I say yes, it’s 6:00. It’s OK to be awake.
I’ll put on a show for you to watch. “No Mommy, I want to look on the computer for bounce houses for my birthday.”
And that’s how I ended up here, at my writing desk, during my writing time, trolling the internet for trampolines.