Is that more water? Writing with Littles.

On why I'm creating while wearing noise canceling headphones

Lavender drifts to my nose, and the candle’s flame dances in the ivory ceramic votive. Steam curls from my Gilmore Girls coffee mug. My favorite sweatshirt hugs my torso. I take a deep inhale, and my belly expands. I place my feet firmly on the banana leaf rug under the dining room table. Light is just beginning to filter in through the giant windows above our stairs. I am in week 5 of a Writing with Purpose workshop, and I’m starting my last essay for the course. 

It’s before 6am, and my children are sleeping. I thought they were sleeping. 

As I write, I am reliving my experience as a 22 year old traveling management consultant when I hear what sounds like a shower. What? How? My husband is out of town for the week, and my 2.5 and 4 year old children do not shower unsupervised yet. I snap back to the present. My forehead crinkles, my stomach drops, energy races through my veins and shoots out my fingertips. 

In ten quick steps I am at the edge of the playroom. Water pummels from the light fixture and pools on the wood floor below. Oh no! I spin 180 degrees and run up the stairs, taking them two at a time. I open my son’s door to find an empty room. I cross his room to find him standing at his bathroom sink on his stool. There are 6 hot wheels cars in the sink, and he’s zooming another one on the wet countertop. Water gushes from the sink -- drain closed -- over the counter onto the tile. There is nearly an inch of water on the floor. I push the sink handles back with such force I shake my palm afterwards.

“ETHAN! What were you thinking?!” I whisper-shout, so as not to wake his sister on the other side of the door.

He looks at me, and his eyes widen. He stops zooming the cars. “My cars needed to go for a swim.”

I spend the next two hours cleaning. I mop up water in the bathroom and playroom. I empty the kids’ bathroom vanity and spread out all its contents to dry. I wash and dry a load of towels. I text our neighbor to inquire about a dehumidifier. I locate our three bounce house motors (I have experience with getting rid of unwanted water) in an attempt to dry the bathroom.

I FaceTime my husband in a panic about the playroom ceiling. Water gathers in suspicious bubbles and continues to drip, drip, drip onto the wood floor. He tells me to connect our extra dryer duct to one of the bounce house motors to direct airflow. I retrieve the ladder hiding in our garage and slowly climb. I unscrew the lightbulb and direct the dryer duct into the ceiling. When I turn on the motor, air shoots directly into the subfloor. 

There is some lesson for me in water -- maybe cleansing power or ability to sustain or loss of control. But, what I’ve seen from water is life and relationships. I’ve seen community and generosity and kindness from new friends and old friends. My neighbor brings over his dehumidifier and hooks it up. My friend delivers Chick-Fil-A chicken minis and helps set up the bounce house motors. Another friend sends a venmo for “takeout on me.” Other friends sent GIFs and offer prayers. 

I did not finish my essay during morning writing time, but I continue later in the day during quiet rest time. The bounce house fans turn my home into an airport, their motors whirring like jet engines. So, I pop in my noise canceling headphones to drown out the sound and overstimulation. I am back at my dining room table. I take a deep breath in and then empty the air from my belly. My feet are firmly planted. I remind myself why I write, and I create anyway. 

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Cheers to creative uses for bounce house fans, dryer ducts, and painter’s tape. My husband’s genius jerry rig solution to dry the subfloor. Let’s hope it works!

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This post is part of a blog hop with Exhale—an online community of women pursuing creativity alongside motherhood, led by the writing team behind Coffee + Crumbs. Click here to view the next post in the series "Create Anyway".