I didn't write this morning. I slept in because I have a cold. Everyone seems to be sick. The kiddos are all pretty sniffly, too. The kiddos? These three girls above? It is amazing how they are my inspirations and my impediments. There are so many days when I just daydream about having a huge stretch of time to write, about not needing to race around this city of mine shuttling sweet girls to and fro. But then I snap back to reality and realize something: They are making me a better writer.
They are making me a better human.
I have been a mother now for going on seven years. In the past seven years, I have changed immeasurably. I have become a much more thoughtful, seeking being. I am hungry to understand my self and my life and my world in large part because of them. Does that make any sense at all? I love when they see me writing. Not fiddling with my phone or snapping a silly, arty photo, but writing. I love when they see me actually writing something. Mommy is writing words, I say. A simple sentence that is true. And when they smile, I do.
I am working on forgiveness, on stepping outside myself, hovering over myself and realizing that the mere fact that I am attempting things, things as wild and woolly as a novel, while raising three tiny human beings, three little muses, is something. It is something good and pure regardless of results. Because when I don't do this, when I sit with myself and my frustrations and my longings for too long, I am less kind with myself.
Anyway, just a little rambling ode to this non-writing morning. To these three little ladies in my life who make me think, and ask, and smile.
Enjoy the day, guys. Oh and check back later after I actually write. Should be able to snag a few hours this afternoon.