A lot of patience, a lot of love.

Part of being a mother means that your time will never be entirely your own. The natural expectation, when the wee ones are very little, is that as the children grow a little older, the demands on your time will grow a little less.

My younger son, for example, can now get lost in a book, much the same way I have always enjoyed doing, and entertain himself for an hour or so at a time. If I need more time? Lots of books have been turned into movies, and he thinks it is pretty fun to compare and contrast them. Plus, there's Endless Ocean for the Wii- quasi-educational and very soothing to a child with as much natural anxiety as my boy seems to have.

This is not true when you have a child with a severe disability like autism. My darling oldest boy is 9 now, nearly 10, and requires almost the same level of work that he did when he was 3 years old.

I have not written nearly as much as I had initially hoped I'd be able to during that first burst of enthusiasm and drive with my project. I am writing though, but on the timetable of my life. There have been medical issues, thankfully resolved. I am finding peace and pleasure in my gardens. Cleaning, de-cluttering and organizing is helping the day-to-day chaos around here and lessening the overall time it takes to maintain our home. I am finding satisfaction in sewing (very) simple play shorts and jammy pants from the supercheap fabric at Wal-mart during these challenging economic times. My older boy is now fully out of pull-ups, a feat that takes plenty of time, patience and blessings.

It may not be the writing schedule I wish to have, but this is the life I have chosen and I am happy with it. Eventually the book will be finished. Much like everything else in my life, I am learning that it cannot be done overnight if it is to be done properly.