So there I was, right? Nose to the grindstone, writing away. New and shiny WIP (work in progress), 30,000 words in, deadline shining like a beacon on the horizon—not too close, not too far away, which is just the way I like it. The only hiccup was that my 11-year-old son was joyously commencing his do-nothing, intentionally-rot-the-brain summer vacation. That meant there would be constant running commentary on his video games (he loves to share) and frequent requests for food, but he’s gotten to the age where he can amuse himself most of the time, so I wasn’t too concerned. Hey, he’s my kid—I’d be happy to spend time with him during the day. Without that pesky getting-to-school alarm clock going off in the morning, I could compensate by staying up into the wee hours every night, writing when the house was quiet. Good plan.
See? Crushing. It.
Just as I thought my biggest problem would be what to name my main character’s best friend, I was felled by a stomach virus. And I mean completely flattened. Could do nothing but roll around, moan, and eat toast. And then repeat the process as my stomach rejected the toast.
That passed after about a week, thank goodness, but I must have breathed on my laptop in the meantime, because suddenly it came down with some sort of creeping crud, seized up, and ceased to be. I wept over its blank, black screen until the computer guru who lives in this house took pity on me and resurrected it with a new hard drive. No data lost! I could pick up right where I left off in my WIP!
And then the stomach virus came back. As it does. So that was another week down.
But did I think that was the worst of it? Did I think I was in the clear once my stomach started behaving and my laptop stopped fritzing on me? Oh, how naive I was, because after that came the dreaded plot twist:
Son Has a Karate Accident.
It was “just” a broken wrist. “Just”…as in “Hey, remember that spell in the Harry Potter books that removed someone’s bone so their limb looked all rubbery and shit?” Yeah. That.
Son did not cry. Mama did not faint. Not sure how we managed it, to be honest. But we did what most families end up doing sooner or later, which was take a ride in an ambulance to the pediatric ED and stay there for hours upon hours. Many X-rays, an army of doctors knocking the kid out and setting his arm, the arm fighting back because it didn’t feel like being put back the way it was, and an armpit-to-fingertips plaster cast later, we were home, and our summer was suddenly drastically altered.
Vacation to California? Cancelled. Camping trip? Also gone-zo. Kid’s daily hell-for-leather rides on his new bike? Not even. And…my book?
What book is that, again?
Yep. Priorities, man. Nursing a broken kid trumps all else. I couldn’t write even if I wanted to, because my author brain abdicated the throne to my mommy brain. Mommy brains concern themselves solely with the comfort and care of said broken kid. Watching for nerve damage. Wondering if the swelling in his fingers is actually going down or if it’s just an illusion/wishful thinking. Trying to figure out the logistics of giving the half-grown kid a bath when he has a giant, heavy plaster cast instead of a nimble, short, waterproof one. Wondering why six or seven hours of sleep, which used to be plenty, was now nowhere near enough—maybe because I’m sleeping with one eye open and one ear cocked in case my broken kid needs something in the middle of the night. After the adventure with the Percocet the hospital gave him, I’m a little on edge. (Never. again. with the Perc.)
Mommy brain does not concern itself with trivialities like whether that plot hole is going to get filled, if that secondary plot is necessary, if that joke works, or whether it matters what color hair the hero has. Honestly, it’s amazing how something that seemed so important can suddenly cease to matter.
It’s been two weeks and it still doesn’t matter.
Oh sure, my son is doing better. He’s figuring out how to work around the giant cast and how to fill his days without his Xbox controller or his bike. As for me, I think about my story a lot, and I’ve even made a few notes for later, but I’m not actually writing. It’s not even an option. My agent and I have agreed to push the deadline out as far as necessary; thank goodness she’s fine with that. But really, even if she weren’t, it wouldn’t matter.
Because my kid is broken.
I realize it could have been a lot worse—three different casts over the course of six weeks and cancelled summer plans is nothing compared to what might have happened (surgery, pins, physical therapy)—and I’m grateful for that. Still, my kid is broken. And when your kid is broken, even just a little bit (which is always more than a parent would ever prefer), nothing else matters.
In my more philosophical moments, I’m almost grateful for this forced break (no pun intended). Maybe I was pushing too hard. Maybe taking a breather will be good for the WIP, not to mention my sanity. My stress levels remain high, but for a better reason than coming up with a book that total strangers will approve of and like enough to buy. My kid is broken, and I’m gonna mother.
Whether he likes it or not.
There’s nothing like a sh!+-storm to put things in perspective. Sorry your summer’s been derailed but glad the kid’s okay!
Ain’t that the truth, Brea! Broken kid > everything else. I want to say things are calming down now, but I don’t want to jinx it! 😮
First of all, great post Jayne! Second, you’re doing what you should be doing. Being a mother! Isn’t that what mons do when they’re sick, or broken, or cut with stitches? I remember when Brian was just 2, he tripped over his father’s work boots and spilt his head open. Yea it wasn’t all that serious, but I was devasted. I understand how you feel.
LOL I don’t think we have a choice. It comes with the “kid” package.
Sorry your summer plans were thwarted, but glad your son’s gonna be okay. A couple of years ago, my daughter fell off her penny board and broke her elbow THE WEEK BEFORE SCHOOL STARTED. Funny how easy it is to take the non-eventful days for granted. It did require surgery and pins, so it was a headache alright. But in the big scheme of things, a little bump. Hope his recovery is smooth and fast. (Yours too.) 🙂
Thanks, Shelly! Good news today—new cast was a short one, instead of the over-the-elbow type, so he’ll be more mobile for the rest of his healing time.
I’m so glad your son is doing OK, but missing out on vacation and camping plans is really sad for you all.
Coincidentally, my blog hop post is a very similar theme, of how “life” can derail a writer ridiculously easily!
Thanks, Pauline! We’re back from getting a new cast today, for weeks 2-4; now I’ll go read your blog post and the others on the hop!
Jayne, I would love to see a picture of your back steps ;
Ask and you shall receive! The top railings are missing, however–we had to make new ones (the old ones curled up) and they’re in “the shop” (garage) awaiting completion.
WHOAH! What a crazy ride you just had. Lemme guess, it wasn’t something you scheduled, either. You didn’t pencil in two weeks to be turned completely upside down. You didn’t say to your husband, “Oh, no. We can’t [fill in the blank] that week because that’s the week that I’ll get sick and our beloved will break his wrist.” If we could schedule it, we could plan around it. But no such luck. Life interrupts. Hopefully, this is the end and there will be no more surprises!
Haha yup that was my first thought when my head cleared: “Well, this was not on the schedule!” Ugh.
Thanks for hosting the hop!
A few years ago just before the summer hols, my son broke his knee. Having just won an Xbox in a competition a month or so before saved the day/summer/sanity – all of ours. How have you kept him entertained??? Respect!
Ow ow ow ow that sounds horrible, Wendy! Good timing on the Xbox, though! My kid’s been binge-watching a lot of TV, alternating with watching his favorite vloggers on YouTube and playing the ONE game on the computer that only requires using the mouse. So fortunate he didn’t break his dominant hand; that would have been especially awful. He got a new, short cast today (two weeks early!) so now he can handle his Xbox controller. He’s happy about that—opens up a whole new world of possibilities.
And that’s what mothers do. Hope everything calms down for you, and your son’s arm heals soon.
Too true. Thanks, Michelle!
Yep, mum trumps all. Nothing like a broken kid (or a sick one) to give you perspective. Mine has 2 permanent med conditions and whenever the writing isn’t working or the rejections fly in, I just tell myself ‘there are worse things in life than my written words not shining’. Hang in there. Hope is not in the bored stage yet, you know, where the novelty of the cast and the attention has worn off and he wants to do all his usual stuff but cant quite yet… Hang in there.
Thanks, Sandie! You hang in there as well! Real life can be so overwhelming sometimes. He’s been amusing himself fairly well, and now that he got his new, lighter cast today, he can get back to gaming, which should stave off the boredom pretty well. 🙂