(My son playing outside my office in our old house. Yes, my office was a coat closet.)
I have an 8yr old and a 5yr old that demand my time. It’s summer and I stay home with the kids while my wife works to support us. She does a fine job taking care of us, but when she’s at work and it’s just me and the kids, my time has no meaning. It just doesn’t exist. It’s their time and I’m happy that I get to be a part of it. I’ve assigned my priorities. Family first, myself second, if at all. When myself tries to push its way to the front of the line, I have to remind myself what is important at this moment in time. Things will change and “my time” will come.
I do get selfish. I take online writing classes once in a while. I love having the excuse to write. Assignments due don’t seem to create the guilt that writing because it makes me happy does. But without the deadline of an assignment due, I feel too guilty to hide away and write. This summer has been particularly hard. Too tired at night to stay up, and to hard to wake up before the kids. Getting my uninterrupted writing fix has been tough. My wife doesn’t like it when I take my laptop into the bathroom.
But summer is almost over, and my 5yr old starts kindergarten soon. I felt guilty for smiling when I typed that.
