If I told you that this post nearly didn’t get written,
would you be surprised? Those of you that know me wouldn’t. The fact was, I was
lying on the beach, having my feet buried in a ton of wet sand when suddenly my
brain clicked into gear.
“What date is it?” I asked my husband.
“The 9th. Why?”
“The 9th!” I jumped up spraying sand everywhere
(most notably in my poor husband’s eyes) “It can’t be! I’m sure it’s only the 2nd
or 3rd? Oh my god, I’ve got an ABBA post to write!”
“Abba?” He looked genuinely confused. “But you hate that
group?”
(NB: I don’t hate the group but don’t I certainly don't love them enough to
blog about them!)
“Oh god! Where have the days gone?”
Because that’s the truth of it. Summer comes, my kids are
mine again full-time and my brain turns to putty. I no longer have routine. I
barely know what day of the week it is, let alone the date - and my diet
consists of ice cream and squashed picnic sandwiches. My poor work diary is
buried under a pile of kids’ drawings and my Twitter feed is full of amusing
kids’ quips rather than interesting writing facts. I’m no longer on writing forums.
Instead I’m pleading for help on Facebook, asking where to take two high-energy
bickering kids in the rain.
And writing. Huh? What’s that? I managed to squeeze some
editing in while they bounced like deranged Tiggers on the trampoline, and I scrawl
down ideas where I can. But in the main my mummy-autopilot is on. All I’m
capable of saying is “don’t touch that!”, “please don’t hit” and “that doesn’t
belong up your nose.”
Just last week I was standing at the cashpoint, one child
tugging at my coat screaming “why can’t we put the paddling pool up?” the other
child was circling on her bike whining “I’m bored” in a manner that drills
insistently into your brain. A woman walked past me and gave me a wry look,
“school holidays, eh?” She’d been there. She wore the scars. A day later the
same child managed to get himself lost in a shop. After minutes of frantic
calling, I found him posing as a shop dummy. I think my blood pressure had gone
up a huge amount. I collapsed at home exhausted. I couldn’t bring myself to
write Twitter update, let alone part of my novel.
(Spot the real kid!)
I've also enjoyed weekly trips to the library as my seven year old daughter tackles her first Summer Reading Challenge. Watching her curl up on the grass with another new book is wonderful. Actually it's one of the best things ever. Another reason why our library service is so vital.
Soon the summer will be over and my writing routine will
restart and I’ll miss the time with my kids. Which I guess, goes to show, it’s
all about striking that balance.
