I come from creative stock. Every side of the family — from the ones I share genetics with and the ones claimed through love — has crafters and artists and a handful of writers. And they’re all supportive. They think its cool that I can make half-an-income writing and raising the child. They look forward to seeing me succeed in publishing a novel.
However, this is an ode my husband, who I have stolen from all other creative types who need so earnest and supportive a cheerleader. (Nyah-nyah!)
I was one of those crazy chicks who made it known way, way too soon in the relationship that I wanted to be the mom who works at home and writes. After several years of trying to scare each other off with our assorted dysfunctions and issues, we had a baby and got married instead.
Best decision I’ve ever made. I assume he feels the same way.
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