I've come to the conclusion that I'm getting cranky in my old age. And apparently so is my muse.
I've been working on revisions for the last few weeks - in between eye infections, skin infections and trips to the doctor. Tonight my wonderful DH took both girls outside to play after dinner leaving me with a precious 45 minutes to immerse myself in my story. Except that they didn't want to stay out that long.
Of course they waited just long enough for me to really get into things before running in, yelling, fighting, whining, bringing general mayhem and pretty much pulling me out of the flow. I was not a happy camper. At the time I was working on a chapter that had been giving me fits for days and I'd finally figured out what changes I needed to make to pull things together. Interruptions not welcome. I yelled. And then felt bad.
This is why I normally write at night. In the bathtub. I get mean and nasty when something interrupts the creative zone. I don't write at work for the same reason. It never fails, as soon as I get into a scene my bosses decide they need something. The nerve :-)
I honestly feel terrible about getting angry. I hate feeling mean and guilty after yelling at my girls. As I was doing it I knew I shouldn't, but frustration takes over sometimes. I needed a few more minutes of quiet not five potty trips, referee requirements and complaints.
I wouldn't change being a mother for anything in the world. Most of the time my girls are the light of my life. Every once in a while though... When you're pregnant no one tells you there'll be days you want to give them back. That sure wasn't in any of the books I read :-)
What sparks off your temper?
P.S. Catslady is the winner from yesterday's blog. Please send your mailing address to the Playground Monitor to arrange for your prize.