Every morning, I wake up early, prepare breakfasts, help find shoes, glasses, bookbags, and clean jeans. I get the teen-agers on the early bus, then I clean up the kitchen, and some days, I drive the elementary carpool. Then I come home, clean up breakfast dishes, and face the big question. The eternal question, really, of good vs. evil except I'm not always certain which one is good and which one is evil. What I *want* to do, and what I really think I *should* do most days is sit down and write. I want to lose myself in the delights of childhood, in preparing the absolute best possible material I am capable of for young readers. It's a process of getting into the zone and writing, writing, writing. Sometimes I have to get up and spin around the room or kneel and examine the world from a child's eye. Often I play my text on the piano to test the cadence, the rhythm. I crank up my favorite Pandora stations, and drink lots of coffee while dinner bubbles in the crock pot. It's a lovely world I write in and when I come out of it, I am a calmer, better person. Really.
But when I feel like I *need* to do is clean my house. Do laundry. Mounds and mounds of laundry. Mop. Sweep. Vacuum. Go to the grocery store. Organize homework station. It almost makes me cry to think of it.
The choice might seem obvious, depending on who you are. My mother, for example, might say clean the house and then write. But it's not that simple. First of all, it's not like you're ever finished cleaning your house. Wait, it's not like I'M ever finished cleaning my house. And it's a slippery slope. Clean the bathroom sink, might as well clean the toilet, and bathtub, mop the floor, wash a load of towels, purge the empty shampoo bottles, reorganize the linen closet...and that's just one tiny room!
At any rate, I'm writing this morning with all the lights off, so I can look out at the luscious falling snow. It's a beautiful snowfall. Kids are out of school. All four of them are snuggled up on the sofa watching 'Rugrats" at the insistence of my oldest. She says it's 'classic' and the younger sibs have never seen it. Makes me feel old! And who would have ever thought someone would call Rugrats 'classic'? And the funny thing is, I cannot recall her EVER watching it.
So what I'm saying is, this morning I'm all writing all the time. I'm going to pretend that I have limitless time to lose myself in my twirly world, but it will all come to a screeching halt at 11 when I have to clean the house. Maybe. I'm pretty sure.
We used to have a man who worked for us in the yard sometimes. He would come help me with big projects and seasonal things. A sweet old guy, I loved it when he came, and he always borrowed books from me to read. (children's books) He was precious. Anyway, one day he was supposed to come, and he called me. "Mrs. Koppelman?" he said when I answered the phone. "I'm closed today." I died laughing. But he decided he wasn't coming to work because he didn't feel well, so he just closed.
Maybe the housekeeper in me will be closed today.
Except she was closed yesterday.
My Mission Statement
I write to serve, to unite, to educate. I write to share literature and flesh out ideas that may be of interest to others. I write to document an emotion, experience, or a blip in time. My mission is to write in such a way that the reader is reminded that we can find humor in all situations. It's one of the great blessings of life.