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When I decided to put grad school on hiatus to focus on my (non-existent) writing career, it all seemed so simple. My husband works nights, so he could help with the baby during the day while I whisked my laptop away to a Starbucks to write amongst all the other budding artists. I’d sip my iced coffee and type my way to a book deal, or at least a few published articles.

Then reality set in: husband needs to sleep in after a grueling commute and 12 hour shift. So, I spend my mornings ferrying the baby around to play dates (for Mommy and for Baby), running into Target for diapers, and if I can squeeze it in, a jaunt over to the grocery store before my unnapped daughter goes into full meltdown mode.

While she’s napping, my husband and I catch up, eat, watch The Office, all the things normal couples do in the evenings. By the time the baby’s up, it’s time to start feeding her lunch, prepping dinner, bath time, etc.

No problem, you say! Just write after the baby’s in bed, and the husband is at work. Well, I do. But, first I clean the kitchen, throw the toys back into the toy chest, pour a glass of wine, and…now, I’m exhausted.

Hey, I ain’t complaining. I have a sweet gig. And it isn’t as if I have deadlines and editors knocking down my door. But, if I ever want to have those things, which I desperately do, I better get my ass in gear.

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