I will admit that my worldview may be somewhat limited at the moment since I see everything through a thick gauzy filter comprised of wet wipes, pull-ups and Kraft Macaroni and Cheese. I don’t think I’m “THAT mom” — at least I swore I’d never be, and think I’ve managed to avoid losing sight of everything else in the world beyond my own progeny. But I will say that if you don’t find yourself there, just a bit, you might be doing something wrong. Once the choice was made to have these little guys, I was on the hook and will remain there for the next, oh, sixteen years or so.
Anyway, given how irritatingly all-consuming this kid rearing task has turned out to be, it has led me to find a new group of people worthy of my hero-worship: Mom authors. I will admit that every time I find a new female writer whose work I admire, who is recently published and somewhat new (and therefore someone who I am trying to emulate), I find her blog and head straight for the “about me” section. What am I looking for? Mention of children, of course! Better yet, small children still in those soul-sucking completely dependent years.

When I find a successful writer — someone who is legitimately DOING IT — in the midst of the same shitstorm of toddler irrationality that I cope with daily, I find myself impressed and also a teensy bit relieved. Maybe it is possible, I think. After all, SHE is doing it.

We all have our burdens to bear. We all have the reasons why we should do something other than write. I guess the magic, and maybe the key to being a writer, is that we manage to do it anyway.

A toast to all the mom writers out there. I, for one, know how hard it is!