My husband is off work all week, and my kids are out of school Wednesday through Friday for Thanksgiving break. My husband generously agreed to share his vacation with me, to allow me to go and be free as much as I can. My choice is to go to the coffee shop and write until I can't write anymore - at least until it's time for my big kids to come home from school.
Somehow the big kids need me here or they scatter like kittens all over the house and don't do the things they need to do for themselves. If I left and came home, I can guarantee my daughter would be found in her room with her cell phone in her left hand set on silent (it's only used for texting), her iPod headphones on her head, a drawing pad on her lap, and a scented marker or colored pencil in her right hand, furiously creating something amazing on the pad of paper.
My son would be in the basement, working on his Lego village, imagining where he would assemble the very pricey Lego train set he wants for Christmas, the set no one can really afford, the set he is willing to spend his own money on, the money he has hoarded away in piggy banks (yes, that's plural, he filled three pigs) since he was an infant.
None of that is bad, but they need to do their school work on school days. I hope there's no homework tonight and we can all play.
I am off to the coffee shop to write. Wish me luck finishing my story - I only have three or four more chapters to go. It's all laid out in my mind and just needs to be typed onto a page.
On Thanksgiving this week I will be most thankful for my husband for sharing his vacation with me. Thanks, sweetie. I love you too.
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