So Much To Do.

Is it any wonder I’m ready for a nap by early afternoon? School lunches were made, the coffee drunk, the dishes done, a workout in the books, and I sit here at my computer jumping from assignment to assignment.

Schedule this. Read this. Make this. Find this. Wash this.

And then I find a poem or a writer who makes me wonder who I think I am. They are that good. Their words resonate with me and I wonder why I dared to write. I lay my head in my hands, but I can’t let that distract me. I can’t let the demons that told me I wasn’t a writer for years try and dissuade me now. I can’t take back the book that stares at me on my desk, about to be sent into the world in less than two months. A book that details raw and honest emotions about the birth of my son Owen and the path he led me on.

I can’t let details trip me up as I try to figure out SEO words, and edits to my website, and how to get a bookstore to stock my book, or librarians to purchase it. There is so much to do, to learn. I have backlogged emails of documentaries I meant to watch, and webinars I meant to log into, never mind the writing classes I signed up for and never took. I guess I can still write them off my taxes, though.

Now that the kids are back in school, there is an urgency to it all. The lazy days of summer are gone, replaced by the alarms that go off at different times in the morning for each of the kids. I race through my days taking Owen to school (he doesn’t drive), followed by his personal trainer, then Special Olympic swim and now he has a part-time job. Sometimes, I’ll take him into LA for an improv class with his friends who have Down syndrome. That’s only if I’m not too tired.

The beauty of being a writer is that my work is with me at all times, whether it’s my computer or a notebook or a memoir I’m reading. I have carved this life out for myself, and on days when I drop Owen off at Ventura College to attend the neuro-diverse classes, I feel a sense of pride and accomplishment, not just for him, but for me. That span of time allows me to head up to the college library, where the quiet zone boasts a glimpse of the ocean, and I settle in.

And in those moments when I feel as if I am not enough, I read a section from my book, words I don’t really remember writing, and I think of my Owen. I think of the wins we’ve had and the amazing attitude he has, and the incredibly positive self-esteem that he wears like a badge. I think of how he lives his day moment by moment. And finally, I remember that what he doesn’t like or is not good at, he doesn’t do. Simple as that. For years, we fought the system, his system, which is an inherent Down syndrome trait: he simply refuses. It is the most abundant form of stubbornness I have ever encountered. And yet, he is being true to his very nature. Whereas I reluctantly say yes to things I don’t want to do because they don’t feed my soul like they used to, or I slog through the “have tos” of my life. So today, I will pause, and maybe take a nap.