In between bites of cracker, my little mouse weakly tries to ride out the waves of nausea thrown her way. She wins. She loses.

So the day goes…

In between words typed onto the page, I hold a little girl’s hair away from her face, as she leans over the toilet. She’s hot. She’s cold. Mercifully, sleep eases her into a world free from pain for a few hours.

So is the role of a mother.

In between loads of laundry, I re-book appointments, reassess my schedule, and debate what the rest of the afternoon will hold for a work-at-home-mom with a sick child on her hands.

This is one of the perks and difficulties of freelancing from home. Available for my family first and foremost. At the mercy of their needs, but aware of the other responsibilities that I have agreed to fulfill.

So is the life of a freelance writer, I suppose…



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