Bean has been ill for three days now, with a sky-scraping temperature (it's her speciality, it has to be said). You have to admire her; when she does something, she gives it her all.
It's knocked all my plans out of whack, though. Those two precious sessions when the four-year old is at pre-school, and I manipulate the one-year old's sleep pattern to scratch together an hour or two alone, writing, disappeared. I ended up watching Disney's Beauty and the Beast, instead, cradling a child who was ember-hot. It was such a disappointment - I love writing in the daytime when I'm wide awake and my brain isn't limping yet. Now I've got a week before my next shot at that.
I suppose part of achieving a goal, whatever it is (getting a novel to publication standard; losing a few pounds; raising a child with the right values to choose the best nursing home for me in the future) is not letting life stop you. I've got to find ways to cheat, and steal time from less important things so I can get back on track with writing. I gave up ironing long ago, but maybe there's something else I could jettison - eating? That'd sort the pounds, too...
In the meantime, I'm going to enjoy the extra cuddles from my least cuddly child.