The Pit and the Happy Dance

Here's why being a writer goes great with being a mom:

• Flex time
• Crisis inspires creativity
• Starving for words with multiple syllables drives me to my computer. Although, the Fox did repeat "unconditionally" the other day.

Also, one of my favorite writers, Diana Gabaldon, has some advice on this.  (btw: If you haven't checked out "Outlander," Gabaldon's historical romance/adventure, I have one word for you: Sexy Scottish Lord Jamie. Okay that's four words. but just trust me on this.) Anyway, Gabaldon says that when you are a writer, starting out, sometimes you just have to let the housework go for a while.

Hello.

And let me just say: this house is a pit. Yes, it is a pit of love and creativity. All kinds of good things are happening. I am working on a Web site for an amazing documentary about humanity's ancient relationship with trees. (And if that job is not a confirmation of the presence of the Green God in my life, what is, I ask you?) Am working on next column. 

But still, the house is a pit. The clean laundry and the unclean have formed an unholy alliance on our bedroom floor, which M steps over silently every night. But I can hear what he's thinking. (Or, at least Edith can.) And don't get me started on the dog hair.

But the Fox loves to sweep. His little broom, my big broom. Really, though, he's more of a spreader than a sweeper. Can't really track the fact that the piles of dog hair are escaping. 

But legos he can track. And yesterday I had this BRILLIANT idea:

Sweeping legos.

You know, it is so easy to just do stuff, instead of teach it. I want to just clean the pit, get something done with my precious minutes here and there. I have to stop cleaning to teach the Fox, to hold the dustbin and do a happy dance when he pushes the legos into dustbin. But this way lies happiness, my friends. This way lies help.