Any Means Necessary

I am disgusted when people talk on the phone while going to the bathroom.  The hygienic meltdown of the situation is alarming, and there is somehow a deterioration of decency at the same time.  It's like taking a hostage behind that stall door with you; some blindfolded innocent who learns too late that they are accompanying the speaker into the john.  I'm fairly certain that most people's response to the question: "care to join me on the can?" would be "no!"
Ah, that being said, I doubt you'd like to join me where I am now.  Shades drawn, sitting next to a completely full diaper genie, I am breast feeding my four-month old son.
The bulk of my writing these days is done while nursing or pumping.  These fifteen to sixty-minute intervals are the only chunks in my day where I can't clean the house, work from home, work out, sleep, or do any of the other multitudes of daily chores that don't really seem to fit in a 24-hour period.  When my son was first born I would read to him during day feedings, and use the itouch to watch reruns on Netflix at night feedings.  Then, around three months old, my boy would stop eating if I spoke; he decided we should chat instead, and he would rather babble back to me than eat.  As adorable as that was, increasing our hour-long feedings even further was impractical, and I had to stop reading to him.  I started reading to myself during feedings, and sometimes answering emails from the itouch.  A few weeks ago it dawned on me that I could spend this time writing, and just email myself any work I got done!  I started in earnest, mad at myself for not thinking of it earlier (there is a chance my husband thought of this.  I can't remember.  But, at least half of the advancements in my life are from him seeing the obvious when I cannot, so there's a fair chance he thought of this one, too).
Which brings me to today, tapping away a blog entry on my itouch; it is my 2"x4" Moleskine.  I bring the electronic device with me obsessively and charge it like a little lifeline.  I may have a meltdown if I ever misplace it.  I have two charging cords, just in case.
Honestly, the work I turn out on the itouch is inferior to the writing I produce in the cafe, but it's there.  Riddled with typos and never as compelling as what I produce during devoted writing time, at least I can lay out plots, create dialogue, and paint settings in imperfect ways; all of which are then available to me the next time I get the urge to conglomerate writing bits and edit, edit, edit!
Like I said, it's not perfect, but it's something.  Every day I can write.  It's my meditation; my release.  Anyone working full time with an infant who does not yet sleep through the night needs a release.  Strike that.  Everyone needs a release!  Writers and other artists need their mediums.  It chafes when we can't create.
I hope this encourages others to do as I do, and use any means necessary to write, anywhere, any time!  Except, perhaps, when you're on the toilet.