“Mother, May I?” by Brea Brown

“Mother, May I?” by Brea Brown

“Please, don’t press those buttons.”
“Please, don’t try to sit on my lap when I’m working on my laptop.”
“Please, don’t sit next to me and fart.”
“Please, don’t do anything to make your brother screech.”
“Please, don’t climb on my shoulders.”
“Please, don’t put that balloon in my face.”
“Please, don’t yell at the TV while sitting three inches from my ear.”

These are typical utterances from me when I’m trying to write at home. Tonight is a perfect example. Someone didn’t take a nap or a crap today (my three-year-old, not my husband, although I haven’t asked my husband about his bathroom activities), so he’s extra-whiny, clingy, and—let’s be honest—obnoxious. Sure, you could say he wants attention. I say he has a death wish.

But this is life. I’m a mom, wife, and a full-time employee. Then I come home and write. I write in the evenings. I write on the weekends. I write whenever I have a spare minute. Lunch breaks, waiting in the car for my teenage son to finish up at softball… it’s all fair game. Pun intended.

I envy the writers who have the luxury of letting inspiration strike them. I have to nab inspiration by the scruff of the neck, lick my thumb, and give it a spit-bath whenever I can. “Get over here, you dirty manuscript!”

And often times, I have to devote a lot of energy to tuning out my surroundings. Do I get strange looks in the dark movie theater parking lot, where I sit behind the wheel of my car with my laptop screen casting a glow onto my face as I wait to give my son and his friends a ride home? Yes. Is it difficult to write with the smell of farts wafting around me? Sure. But nobody said this whole writer thing was easy or glamorous. And if they did, they were big, fat, stupid, poo-poo head liars.

The point is (did I really have a point?), I love to write. And now, thanks to the encouragement of friends, family, and a few role models along the way who saw something in me that I wasn’t truly sure I had, I now have readers who love to read what I write. Not a million readers. But enough readers. So it’s more than just a hobby now. And I make it a priority. I find time for it. Every single day.

And I’m a better mom for it. I’m happier and more fulfilled than I ever was with my original career choice. I’ve given myself permission to do what I love to do.

What do you love to do? What do you give yourself permission to do? How does it make you a better person to the other people in your life?

Mother, may I? Yes, you may!



I live in Springfield, Missouri, where nothing ever happens, so I make things up in my head. My published books are Daydreamer, Quiet, Please!, Plain Jayne, and the Secret Keeper series (The Secret Keeper, The Secret Keeper Confined, The Secret Keeper Up All Night, and The Secret Keeper Holds On.) I’m currently writing The Secret Keeper Lets Go. Stop by my website for links to my books, a peek at my blog, and a glimpse of my Tweets (that’s right… hubba hubba). I’d also love it if you stopped by my Facebook page and said hi. I’m on there. All. The. Time. I have three boys, a very understanding husband, and a crush on several celebrities, including Colin Firth and The Man in the Yellow Hat.

Connect with Brea!



Twitter (She loves Twitter dearly; she’ll be delighted!)



Let’s connect! Find me on Twitter and Facebook, and email me: francine@francinelasala.com


5 thoughts on ““Mother, May I?” by Brea Brown

  1. Oh Bea, this all sounds so familiar! It’s so difficult writing when the kids are at home, especially as there’s a fair amount of guilt involved when I close the office door behind me and let them get on for a short while with…whatever… um… they are getting on with. So glad I’m not alone in this mummy-author thing!


  2. Oh, Brea, you always make me snort with laughter. Like Nicky said, I’m so glad I’m not alone as a mommy author! Considering how many books you’ve written, writing in the car and on lunch breaks obviously works for you. And I am now going to call people, “big, fat, stupid, poo-poo head liars.” A fantastic post!

    Samantha Stroh Bailey


  3. Brea, you make me laugh! Loved this post! I’m not a “Mummy writer’ (my daughter is now 32 and has twin sons of her own), but my 90 year old mother currently is living with my husband and me while her home is being renovated. Talk about shades of grey! “Mommy may I” certainly applies! I’m learning to take her at her word. She’s 90 and her body is falling apart, but meanwhile her mind (plus tonuge) is very willing and able to remark about every single thing going on in my life… plus the things that AREN’T but she thinks should be. Nothing seems to have changed since I was growing up… except now, I’m learning to ignore her. I still disappear into my writer’s cave (even though she tells me I’m not getting enough rest, spreading myself too thin, and really should take more time for myself). Mother, May I? You bet!


    1. It all comes full circle, doesn’t it? I wish I had a writer’s cave. We have a man cave in our house, and I even have a desk in there, but I try to avoid going in there, because it smells even worse than the rest of the house and is often littered with snack cake wrappers and soda cans. It’s not conducive to creativity, that’s for sure!


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