Sunday morning found me sniffling over the latest post at www.creativeconstruction.wordpress.com - the group blog for creative mothers that I write for. Alana, from Ireland, wrote about mothers and their lack of space to write--how every corner of their world is taken up with their children and how they are literally crowded out of their own spaces. I called to Tom, who was in the living room watching Sam so that I could even get on the computer in the first place.
Part of my weariness with finishing my re-write was having to write and do something with Sam at the same time. I can do one or the other, but together, well, it's beyond my ordinary abilities. Sam is wonderful and has a charming, curious personality, but he has completely ransacked MY office and torments me whenever I get on the computer. He loves to bang the keyboard tray, grab the mouse, turn the printer off and on incessently, drives matchbox cars over my hands, crawls underneath the desk to turn the power strip off, and when my back is turned, climbs onto my desk, turns the monitor off and on, tosses everything I've put on the desk and out of his reach onto the floor, sticks paper clips in his mouth, and inevitably makes some sort of change to my novel or the settings on my computer.
I had told Tom all of this. I had begged for relief. Please watch Sam so I can write, I would plead. But if Tom was to watch Sam, who would finish the tiling, the painting, the landscaping, etc? His other suggestion was to write while Sam slept. But how could I get anything accomplished in this lifetime in one and a half hour increments every day. The book would get finished at a glacial pace and I would still be frustrated and annoyed with everyone. And that would be with one child. If John and Sam were on different nap schedules, I might never get another thing accomplished again.
I was filled with a rising sense of panic. I couldn't just NOT write. It's what I do. And the thought of putting my book off indefinetely was abhorrent to me. Not that that was what Tom was asking me to do, but he basically expected me to work with what I had, which wasn't much.
So Sunday morning, I called him into his office where I was working on his work laptop(my computer refuses to talk to our wireless connection for some reason), read him the blog, and sniffled "This is exactly how I feel."
And he said "Okay, this afternoon we'll go buy you a new laptop." And we did.
I've rearranged the whole house now in anticipation of my new writing area. My office is becoming the unofficial play room until the boys finally let me sit again at my desk in peace. My great-grandmother's sideboard with the sticky drawer is moving from the hallway to the breakfast area to house the laptop and provide a typing space where I can look out over the living room. The kitchen and breakfast area are already blocked off by baby gates, so hopefully I can work without physical assault. If Sam learns how to repel over the baby gates, I can just type standing up.
I feel like a huge weight has finally been lifted from off my shoulders.