Here's a tip

So I thought, I'd just throw this out there as a freebie for any writer who's ever going to write about a single mum.

Disclaimer: I'm not a single mum, I'm what you'll term a single wife, as in my husband travels a lot for his job, so I'm home alone with the kids. It's quite close to being a single mum with regards to certain experiences, but for the single mum the struggle is even more real (hats off to you).

Anyways meet kid let number 2 he is the cutest bug on earth but he doesn't sleep. If you don't hold him, he power naps for 15-30 minutes, and is rearing to go again. In other words I'm that mombie who doesn't drink coffee.

On Saturday, a friend of ours texted me to see if he could borrow an airport approved hand luggage, I texted back and said come on Sunday after church.

On Sunday, this sleep deprived mum sent him the address to my favourite Chinese restaurant, made him pick up food for us.

When he came in he said, "here's your food I'll just take the hand luggage and go. I need to get a haircut."

My response? " your hair looks great, either ways you're going to have to change your plans, I have to shower". I had serious mum stench.

Before he could say anything else, he was wrangling a 6 month old and a 6 year old, and I had a good long refreshing shower.

This my dear friends is the definition of hot in a single mum's book. Want to write about a hero that's believable? That is what real life looks like, and this little gross story with mum stench all over it, could help you get a glimpse into the world of a single mum.

Song in my head: Jealous by Nick Jonas

The moment you realized

I graduated from Uni 10 years ago, yet this story is from way before then, let's say 15 or 16 years ago.  I was in high school, in a boarding school -I almost said boarding facility like I'm a horse *snorts*

I like to refer to this as my triumphant moment! I remember it clearly because we just got back from summer break and I had just had my first encounter with a Kathleen E. Woodiwiss book.

I was so pumped by it, I simply had to tell the story to everyone around me. I remember starting with my friends, they all gathered on my bed like we were at a sleepover. It took me more than three days to finish telling them, with me ending each night on a cliff hanger - it was so much fun!

Every night the girls would grumble when it was time to go to bed, and before the three days were up, the news had spread about The Flame and the Flower.  I had several girls asking to join my night group to hear about this book, but there was no way I was letting them join midway and ruin it by asking a million questions, or not enjoy it because they had missed out on the beginning; which if you've read the book, you'll know it's so crucial to the whole story.

So what I did was ask them to wait till I finished with my current group, and then I started all over again. I had several groups with several repeat listeners.

I still remember the feeling like it was yesterday because yours truly was on cloud nine. I read that 600 paged book so many times that summer that it's spine broke and it became all loose leaves and then I read it some more.

I told the story so many times, I still remember the eager look on their faces, how they would all squeal when I came to a dramatic point, how they sighed, the faraway look in their faces as they secretly dreamt about sailing to the Carolina.

That's the moment I realized, I was a storyteller


Music playing in my head, brought to you by Matchbox Twenty - Unwell

xoxo
Jo