Work-at -home mothering

I love my little freelance writing job. I really don't work all that often, sometimes only a couple times a month doing stories for a local newspaper. It pays well for what time it takes, it helps me practice my writing skills, I get to meet new people, be involved and learn new things, and I absolutely love it. The only part that can be frustrating is the fact that I have three children, I write my stories at home, and I work on a deadline. This is how my day has gone:

My alarm went off at 8:30 am and I pushed snooze until about 9am. Got up, turned on the computer, made coffee. The kids got up, Garrett had to get ready for soccer. He left, and I read my emails, including one from the editor about changes needed in my article about the school board meeting. Changed Grace's diaper and got her clothes on. Gave her some cereal and a banana, which she smashed up and left the peeling laying on the floor. Started working on my article. After one sentence, Drew wanted some toast. Made him and myself some peanut butter toast. Ate while working on the story. Then we had to go get Garrett from soccer. Came home and made another attempt at it. The boys wanted pancakes. Made them. Sat down to drink coffee and write, explaining that "mommy has a job to do and she will get in trouble if it doesn't get done." Drew whined for juice and I told him to get his own. Grace was giving me the sign language for "swing." I begged Garrett to take her outside to swing. They did this for about five minutes. Then I had to take Drew to T-Ball. Dropped him off, came back. Worked on article. Went to pick him up, and watched him play a little. Walked home. Finally finished article after I gave Grace lunch and put her in the highchair to eat. Emailed it in. Big sigh of relief. Of course, this is different because it is summer, everyone is home, and I usually write when Grace is napping.

Drew has been having fun in T-ball, and it is so amazing to see him. He's only five, and one of the youngest on the team, and really doesn't know the rules very well. But he's learning. The first time he hit the ball, he ran all the way around the bases, even though he got out at first. He had a huge grin on his face the entire time. "I got a home run!" he said. While he is in the outfield, he is looking down, kicking the sand, not paying any attention. The ball can whiz right past his head and he never even looks up. They run right past him. There are other kids actually sitting down playing in the sand. It's hilarious.
Today when I went to pick him up, it was his turn to bat, and they were pitching to him instead of using the tee. He swung several times and missed, and I was afraid he wouldn't be able to do it. And then it happened. He hit the ball, a good hit, and ran for first, hanging onto the big red helmet on his little head. He didn't get out either, and after the next hit, he ran for home with the biggest smile I have ever seen. I was jumping up and down and shouting for him, and he was loving it. One of motherhood's finest moments for sure.

While writing this entry, I was up four times getting something for somebody.