The Hardest Part of Motherhood
Life Interrupted I'm of the opinion that everyone needs a place where they can escape to be alone, a sanctuary of sorts, even in their own home. Mine is our bedroom: swathed in white, grey and cream, I can sit atop our down comforter, multiple pillows at my back and really get lost in flow. As I write there today, a semicircle of items begins to accumulate around me: a Bella Grace magazine, where I often find word inspiration, one dot grid notebook, another college rule, a pen and a pencil, my stapled custom weekly planner. I am in the zone. At least I was, until I was interrupted: My two-year old wakes from his nap and toddles into the bedroom hugging Scott Gustafson's "Mother Goose" to his chest. We read for a while. My four-year old screams from the trampoline, and I jump off the bed to see what emergency has warranted such a response. We snuggle for a while. My husband returns home from work and wants to know my thoughts on dinner. We chat for a while. My li
