Knee, meet Eye

Tator has a new habit. 4AM, rock-hard knee, my eyeball. Need I say more?

Well, as this is supposed to be a blog about writing and being a writing mama, I'll expand this to say, that when knee meets eye, my brain fires into action and starts forming sentences about the experience before Tator has even finished squirming into position between B and me.

So, at 4AM I am forced out of bed, not by my sweaty son, but by my compulsion to write.

Today I was lucky. It was 7AM and I only have a fat lip rather than an empty eye socket. But here I am telling my few loyal readers about it as if it is the most important event to have happened this side of midnight. Meanwhile Tator is pulling on me demanding his breakfast as if he hasn't eaten since Monday.

Who wins? The words bouncing in my head, itching to get out and onto the paper (screen) or the hungry 2-year old who can say, Ieee wan cer-e-AAAL, fifty-seven times in increasing volume with no breath in between?

Tator wins; my ear drums can take no more and I don't fancy getting arrested for child neglect today.

And so the battle continues between my two lives....