Snow Days & Personal Space in a Family Home

In our part of southern Ontario, my three girls are on their ninth snow day this school year. Imagine that. They've essentially had nearly two extra weeks of vacation this year and the snow and ice aren't finished with us yet. They say there are only two weeks until spring, but looking out at our snowbanks and more than a foot of snow in the low spots, I have to wonder. Actually, I have to pray. Because if this white stuff thaws in a short span of time, then my septic bed will need all the help it can get.

Each year I look forward to the initial snow days. They provide a wonderful opportunity to rest and just spend time with my girls, not to mention the three less lunches I need to scramble to create in the wee hours of the morning, but too much of a good thing can quickly become cumbersome. Which reminds me of my heart's desire to have my own personal four walls with a functional door of which to call my very own in our family home.

Remember the Brady Bunch? Didn't the father have an office just off the steps that the kids knew to keep out of unless invited. That's what I want. A place to dream and create and write, blocking me from the rest of world for those precious hours of writing time. If my kids never entered the room, then I'd be sure to keep it neat and tidy, and if I could close the door then the rest of our home's upheaval could be forgotten for just a little while. Might clear the cobwebs out of my brain, helping my creative juices to flow more readily. Do you think?

What nooks have you created in your home to provide a comfortable, for-the-most-part uninterrupted writing space? And how did you get your kids to respect that space?

On our last snow day (just two days ago!) I took the girls to a tack shop for an outing. My oldest is shopping around for a new saddle. But looking at the blowing snow, I think our quality time will be spent in the warmth of our home today. Maybe I'll take a few lessons on chess and continue to build my characters and story scenarios in my head.

Pressing on,
Eileen