When She Sits Quietly

She screams. She hits. She throws her sippy cup across the room. All in an attempt to gain your attention. You talk to her in the gentlest of ways to make her understand that you’ll only be a moment. Just need time to check emails and other important messages. There is a moment of calm as you sit in front of the computer and wait for the screen to brighten. She crawls up on a chair eager to see what you’re doing. To be a part of this adult world that she does not understand but because it takes up so much of your time, she wants to be there too.

For awhile it seems that all will go off as planned. You will get through the few emails, maybe even have a chance to write a few words. To add some great words of wisdom to your blog. Do a few tasks required for your job and then you’ll have some time to play with the little one so eagerly awaiting your attention.

Facebook calls out to you. Maybe a little Twitter. The screen suddenly goes dark. Apparently you’ve been sidetracked and are taking far longer than acceptable by the little toddler for now she is on the table and has hit the power button. You feel the heat rise into your cheeks. There is no reason to be angry because she is only doing what children do, but yet the frustration is building. You pull her from the table, wait for the computer to wake again and try another time.

Now she is crying and throwing a tantrum. You stand and make her a piece of toast and grab her a cup of milk. For a little while she is distracted by the need for fuel. Little do you know, that this fuel will only succeed in giving her an extra burst of energy.

Determined to write just a little bit this morning, you start working on a blog post. Little peanut butter covered fingers reach into your peripheral vision and snag the mouse from the table. With it goes important papers and books you have been reviewing to help you on your writing journey. Everything falls to the floor. A brief glance down reveals there is nothing that she can really hurt so you retrieve the mouse, wipe off the peanut butter smears and continue to write. You’re so close to finishing you can almost taste it. Oh wait. That’s peanut butter that’s been transferred from the mouse to your hands.

You write and write. So deeply engrossed in the words that are flowing from your fingers that you don’t realize that she has suddenly become very quiet. Blind to the fact that in your writing frenzy she is no longer bothering you. A welcomed break to get some work done.

Words become sentences and turn into paragraphs. Before you know it, the post is complete. Thankfully spell check has been enabled as you work so there isn’t a lot of need to go back and review for obvious spelling errors. Out of habit though, you skim. A little extra attention, just in case. You are about to publish your post to the internet and it dawns on you. She is very quiet.

You peek into to the living room where you are sure she has just been quietly watching TV.  Your mouth drops. No words escape which is probably good because there would be nothing appropriate that would spill from your lips. You gather yourself, go to the kitchen for a damp cloth and return to begin wiping pen scribbles from her hands, arms, legs and face.

And crayon drawings from the wall.