“What are you eating?”

Writing has become something of a guilty pleasure since I became a stay-at-home mom. My son, Jaidan, has earned himself the nickname “Boyzilla” because of the deliberate, matter-of-fact havoc he wreaks on my concentration.

Before Boyzilla, I used to sneak frenzied writing in during my fifteen-minute breaks at work, concealing a two-gig thumb drive behind my keycard. At home, I’d shut myself into my office and write until the spousal unit complained. I loved every minute of it.

Many things have changed, heralded by those first four months of stupor that came with a new baby.

The office is now the nursery. I do not have the luxury of a closed door. My position at work was eliminated last November.

So where does that leave me?

A stay-at-home mom, with a son who checks on me every few minutes to make sure I haven’t forgotten that my world revolves around him. He appears like a tiny monster from the sea, laboriously pulling himself to his feet by my robe or pant’s leg, drumming and slobbering into my thigh or placing a choice toy or two in my lap, until I assure him of my undying devotion, and then he crawls off for more interesting pursuits.

I can get from a sentence to a paragraph written in between these checkups, but sometimes, it’s a lost cause.

In fact, writing this post has been a battle of divided interests. “Jade, stop playing with the trash can.” It’s hard to keep a train of thought all the way through completion. “What is that in your mouth?” Some days, I only manage a pitiful word or two – “Don’t stick your hand in the VCR, okay? Come on, let’s play with your phone!” because of the constant – “Be nice to the kitty. Pet the kitty. Don’t pull her tail.” interruptions. “JAIDAN! CAT LITTER IS NOT FOR EATING!”

I used to think that I would be able to relax when Boyzilla takes his naps, but I’ve found that I do other things, like shower, and clean my house, and pay bills – all the grown-up, real-life stuff that won’t get done otherwise. So here I sit, sneaking frenzied writing in until my baby’s curiosity gets him into trouble.

And I love every minute of it.

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