Tonight my son had a baseball game. He just made the majors, so I don’t know the other moms on the team. While I sat by myself (they were cliquey) I heard three of them (who had already established themselves as stay-at-home-moms) complaining about how they only had forty minutes to get their children fed and dressed before getting them out the door in time for practice. One was annoyed she had to cut her yoga session short.
Let me tell you how my day went. I left the house at 7:30 to get my daughter to an early club, so was at work by 8:00. At 4:15, which is the earliest I can leave work, I dashed over to get my son from school. He’d been waiting around for forty-five minutes because middle school ends before high school but there was no way I could get home and get him to the game on time. He jumped in the car, buckled up, and wiggled out of his school clothes and into his baseball uniform. We made it to warm-up five minutes late. I raced back to Chick-fil-a to get dinner. He ate in-between innings.
But this post isn’t about baseball. What I’m really leading up to is a toast to the mothers who work full-time and still make writing part of their life.
Here’s to you, working mother. I see you stumbling around in the morning, corralling your children, barely squeaking out the door on time, often with coffee or spit-up on your shirt.
I see you jotting down book ideas in-between work meetings and writing during your lunch break to capture that one idea you had during a boring conference.
I applaud your massive to-do lists, where writing is at the bottom – or maybe even the top – but it only gets crossed-off sometimes.
I sympathize with the big sigh you emit when you get home and see the mess your children have left; still, you muster up the strength to not only cook dinner, but to clean it up afterwards.
I’m so grateful that you still find some time to spend with your children – to read to them, help them with homework, and listen to them talk about their day.
And I admire that, when your children are in bed, or watching television, you boot up that laptop, hunker down, and find even a little time to write.
Working full-time isn’t easy. Neither is being a mom. And it certainly isn’t easy being a writer.
So here’s to you, my full-time working moms. I raise my glass and wish you the best life has to offer. And I urge you not to give up writing. The book world needs people like you.