What It’s Like to Write While Having Kids

I’m trying to set aside some time on the weekends to get my blog writing done for the week. This weekend, however, was a complete and utter shitshow. Every time I approached the keyboard, it seemed like some little thing was nagging at me, and as a consequence, I got absolutely nothing done. It led to a lot of (unvoiced) frustration on my part.

This is the writing life with kids. I remember back in my salad days, when I was green in judgment* … I thought I had all the time in the world to write. And so I didn’t. I let wonderful ideas slip past me like they were Ronaldo, and I was the world’s worst goalkeeper.

Soccer. Because I want to be relevant to the kids today, dammit!

But there’s always an excuse. There’s always some distraction. Saturday it was the kids. Sunday it was rearranging/redecorating the bedroom. And the kids. (Oddly enough, redecorating is one of those weird words that I know how to spell, but can barely type coherently. I don’t know why. My fingers just sort of flip out when it comes to the word, slapping down different vowels and consonants in some sort of gibbersih.

This. This right here. That’s what my fingers do when I try to type “redecorating.”

Anyway, back to the writing. I mean, that’s what you’re here for, right? To watch (OK, read) me complain about not writing, right? Here’s what it boils down to: the kids. There are two of them. One is 3-and-a-half. The other is approaching five months old and still doesn’t sleep through the night. They’re tiring. No, that’s not true. They’re exhausting. They’re needy. I remember being single (or newly married) and not understanding why my friends with kids never did anything. It’s because of the kids, man.

They need diaper changes, clothing changes, spit-up cleaned, food to eat (and or with which to redecorate the kitchen), naps (oh God, please take a nap), playtime, movies, puzzles, (please take another nap!) and on and on ad infinitum. It doesn’t end. I’ve never laughed louder than when I realized that we’re raising a pair of tiny little terrorists. And we by God WILL negotiate with these terrorists, if they’ll just give us a little more sleep.

It turns out that we WILL negotiate with terrorists, if they’ll just take a fucking nap already.

So let’s just be kind and say that all of the writing I meant to do for this week went by the wayside over this weekend. I’m sorry. Maybe it’ll pick back up by the time the kids are in college. Check back in 18 years.

*Shakespeare reference. I’m literary, dammit!


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