It is rare to find a quiet moment in my house. In fact, I can't recall the number of times that I have closed the bathroom door and seated myself for a few moments of privacy only to hear the inevitable, "Mom!" I just want five minutes or three minutes or even two. Heck, sometimes 30 seconds is good enough! But having moments of privacy is not part of the world order in my home because I have three sons. Well, four if you count my husband, and let's face it, he's probably got more toys than all three of the 'real kids' combined!
Why am I talking about trying to steal moments of solitude amidst the chaos? Quite simply, I would like to write, without being 'mom-ed' every five minutes. However, carving out time to sit with my laptop and let my ideas ruminate until they become something coherent is not a common event. To tell you the truth, it seems to only happen every couple of months or so. It's sad really. But if I'm completely honest (and I know I could lie my ass off right now because you don't know me from Adam), I can't complain as there are so many other things that my procrastinating mind invents which means that my children are only part of the equation.
You see, laundry is the real reason I can never find time to write. It is the bane of my existence and an ever-present thorn in my side. Just when I think I have finished the laundry, there is another pile that suddenly appears and completely fills one of the four baskets in the house. It's worse than the reproductive rate of rabbits. Fibonacci had a mathematical formula for that which began with two, cute bunnies and resulted in over 400 hundred rabbits after one year.
My laundry is breeding at the rate of rabbits, that's the real reason I have been working on book ideas for over 15 years and have published...
wait for it ...
Laundry. Yep. Laundry and boys.