The last month has been busy.  Busy.  I feel like that word hovers over my head, even when I’m sleeping.  The kids started school, I started working again, though technically part-time, I still can’t seem to find a spare moment.  Soccer season started and I have completely left my blog (among other things) on the back-burner.  Weekdays are harried, with school,  homework, doctor appointments, soccer practices, dentist appointments, and play dates.  Weekends are equally crazy.   As Coach and Team Parent, my husband and I pack the car and load the kids for Saturday morning’s game.  The kids usually have a birthday party or some other event each weekend.    I am not whining about it.  I am just embarrassed and frustrated by the fact that I have about 4 or 5 half-written posts on my dashboard, and another dozen or so ideas floating around in my brain, just waiting for me to get my act together.  I am wondering if there are any other aspiring writer-mommies out there who feel the same way.  I love to write.  In my dreams, I am able to write every day, and earn a living at it.  That would be the icing on the cake!  In my dream, I have my own little writing room.  It’s private and quiet, away from the noise of Sponge Bob on the TV and the girls playing with their dolls; for some reason, a very loud and dramatic event.   My little dream room is bright and sunny and comfortable.  Right now, I sit in our centrally located little office, right off of the family room and downstairs bathroom.  The TV, which currently boasts no audience,  is blaring some commercial for a toy I am sure I will never buy, the dog is snoring at my feet and my kids sound like laughing, squealing elephants running across the floor upstairs over my head.

When I was a kid, I loved to visit my aunt.  She lived in a house near the beach and she was/is a writer.  Her office, the extra bedroom, was spacious yet cozy.  There was a lot of stuff in that room, but it didn’t feel cluttered.  An entire wall of bookshelves was just crammed full of books.  I used to think she must own every book that was ever written.  There were two windows which were opened in the morning to let in the ocean breezes.  The sofa under the bookshelves converted to my bed at night when I was visiting.  I loved it there.  I loved sitting at the kitchen counter in the mornings with my cereal bowl, watching my aunt take her coffee cup and head off to work, right down the hallway.  I knew I shouldn’t disturb her while she worked.  A few times she let me “edit” for her, probably to be nice and to give me something to do.  It was so nice to sit on the sofa in that sunny little room with the breeze, and the books, and my aunt at her desk, whom I still herald as a magnificent writer and overall remarkable person.   How nice it would be to be in that room again.  Just for today.  To finish the posts I’ve started, and maybe begin a few that are floating around in my head.  Perhaps I would start to write a book.  That would be amazing!  What would I write about?  I have no idea, but I am sure I would come up with something if I spent a day in that room alone with the ocean breeze.

Now, I need to turn off the television and go upstairs to tell the elephants to stop running in the house.  We have laundry to do today, and errands to run.  Tomorrow, it is back to work and school.  My husband is out of town for the day, so I want to spend some quality time with the kids, maybe take a walk.   I will try to find time this evening to finish one of my posts.

I think someday I will have that little writing room of my dreams, and my half-written ideas will be typed and printed for all to read.  Everything starts with a dream, right?