APRON STRINGS
Joyce Harnett

Short stories first published 1958 - 1962 By a mother of 7

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A Standard Qusetion

# 8
Date 8-28-58

A standard question these days is, "How do you find time to write with the children around?" Moth­ers of six do not ask me this, they know I have time to spare.
As for anyone else, the answer is simple. It's not a matter of find­ing time at all. I use the time I already have, like the dishwash­ing time, the ironing time, and so on. Any substitute for these duties is always welcome.
The real problem in the ques­tion is "with the children around." I do write in the mornings when they are around. That may account for the general tone of absentmindedness you've found in this column but I hope it's made up for by a flavor of au­thenticity.
How to write with children around is a subject that comes up frequently in writers' manuals. However, I  do not feel qualified to give advice so instead I will give a demonstration. Today's col­umn will be punctuated with the usual interruptions. I'll call them as they fall, with and without com­ment.
You do the sound effects. Simply intersperse with wails, screeches, door slammings, phone ringing, hammering, and odd as­sorted unexplained noises.
So to get started on the general theme of  Summer.
You know what Summer is. It's the . . .
"Unbutton me." No comment.
. . . season when the sand is in the house and the water is in . . .
"You know what, Mommy? Timmy threw his shoes over the fence."
Nobody around here can climb the fence. Not even me. I tried, but it resulted in my hanging there at half mast, neither on one side or the other.
The shoes were rescued with the end of a broom handle. After the broom was hunted down, that is. Brooms mound here are used for swords, spears, and coolie labor, such as carrying chairs from place to place. They are never simply in the broom closet.
. . . the sandbox. And the snails . ..
"Button me up."
"You know what? My zipper is  stuck …..are on the patio.
seem strange but if you have little lovers of wildlife in your house, you know what I mean. Each morning during the snail . . . "Can we have some water?" "What for?"
"Well—"
"That's not a very good reason."
"Well, we want to give the snails a bath."
"Me need some paste. It's all gone and me want some."
"We don't have any more." "Well, buy some."
"Can I have that water?"
"Not to give the snails a bath." "Me use the glue."           -
"You will not glue the snails."
'Me not playing with the snails."
"You know what, Mommy? Buzzy is pouring sand in De-De's shoes."
De-De is a doll of a redhead who lives next door. Two years old. She is against shoes in gen­eral principles. She is as uncon­cerned about the sand Buzzy is pouring in her shoes as he is about the sand she is pouring on his back.
Hmm, they've all gone out to watch the sand-pouring. So let's see.
. . . season, the snails are gath­ered  and herded without mercy
"We want some water."
"You know what, Mommy? Buzzy dumped out all the crayons."
Mary is at the "you-know-what" stage. Everything she says is pre­ceded by, "You know what." The trouble with stages is that they are set with repetition. After forty thousand times of one "stage," children go on to the next. They do manage to get it out of their systems.
"Well, if you'd put them away when you finished, he wouldn't get at them. Pick them up."
"UNbutton me."
"We need some water."
"ALL RIGHT. ALL RIGHT. I'll turn, the hose on just a little. You all take off your shoes, and. you can wash each other's feet. How's that?"
Anything to get them outside again. So that we can get back to this epilogue to summer.
"Button me."
It is epilogue, you know, now that September is here. I regret with sorrow deep and sincere, the passing of summer and brace myself for the indoor season.
But we were with the snails.
. . . into toy trucks and trans­ported to the plant less Siberia of the concrete patio. Here they are divided .. .
"Unbutton me."
. . . into two classes. The pretty ones and the not-so pretty ones. I have a hard time noting the  dif­ferences in these classifications. My age has perhaps blinded me to the many beauties .. .
"YIPE “
I have been gone for some time. Let it suffice to say that the baby bath
had his early today, in his playpen. I think I will wait till next May or so, and then write a prologue to summer. But then I may calm down.
"Button me."

 

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