Something tragic happened last week. I mean devastating. My three and a half year old stopped napping. I knew this day was inevitable, but I had at least hoped she would nap until age 12...or possibly 14. Unfortunately we didn't even make it to 4.
Nap time is precious. It is how mothers keep from locking themselves in the bathroom with Ben and Jerry. Nap time means you can eat your ice cream in quiet on the couch. And for this mother nap time was how I blogged. With it gone I am reeling. I need to create an alternative plan, one that doesn't involve waking up before the sparrows or burying my face in my computer while my child pleads for my devotion. As I seek a new writing scenario I am grasping at moments as they come.
Vivian graciously fell asleep in the car yesterday afternoon, so with the engine still running I parked under our carport, slid back the driver's seat and pieced together "Where Babies Come From." I consider it a mini miracle.
I keep wanting to get back to my Crisis Series, but I don't want it to feel rushed. I felt that the last installment felt rushed. And I know if I try to write it while Vivian watches the Backyardigans it's going to feel rushed.
In addition to the loss of
In the mean time pray that I don't lock myself in the bathroom with my notebook!