Nine to Five...

Well, be assured that I'm doing a Fine Job.

The business is running smoothly, and we're implementing those changes and improvements that must always be there, in the works, for a business to maintain any grip on the so-short attention span of its market. (Ooh, shiny. ) I'm getting the rhythm and feel of things, and figuring out what it means to be doing all my own stuff plus the stuff I used to pay someone else to do. It's a lot, but I'm getting the hang of it.

My kids have my sort-of undivided attention in the hours between 7 and 9 am, and 6:30 and 9ish pm. I am slowly introducing them to the concept of Mommy sitting on the couch with a book. (Pebbles was highly perplexed. at first -"Why isn't mommy playing with me? She isn't cleaning or cooking or in the shower, so it's playtime, right? Mum? Can you hear me? Haloo?") I think they still know I love them, even if I am not actively engaged in the activity of their choice.

My husband, well, he gets the leftovers, such as they are. God Bless the man.

So, what I have to do now - my personal final frontier - is figure out where the heck writing fits in this new life of mine. I had hoped there would be time at work, but so far not so much. I'm not a late-night writer, so it looks like early mornings might be the thing to try next. I will fit it in somewhere.

Either that, or I will lose my ever-loving mind. Which, since I have so much going on, and children and all, really isn't the best option.

Has anybody seen the weekend?

This morning, as I was leaving for work, I waved and blew kisses to the Beloved in the window, as usual. Then I cut the wheel to turn down the driveway...

...tooted the horn....

...and creamed the front of the car with the side of the van as I passed it. Our vehicles now sport matching dents and nasty white streaks. Thank Dog for my husband, whose laughter kept me from bawling. Well, almost.

I am so very ready for a weekend.

Good morning, writer-mom

5:20 am: Wake up, because BamBam is up and singing to himself on the can. He always has, but not usually quite this early. I know someday he'll leap some developmental hurdle and stop, but I'm in no rush. I lay in bed, dozing and listening.
5:35 am: Get up, and tell BamBam that he should finish up and go back to bed. It's too early to get up.
5:50 am: Realize that I'm truly, irrevokably awake, and start thinking about getting up to write for a while.
5:51 am: Turn on the laptop.
5:52 am: Put on the kettle.
6:00 am: BamBam appears in the living room, turns on the television. I scowl, but kept typing.
6:10 am: BamBam submits request for oatmeal, because he's cold and hungry.
6:15 am: I am back at the keyboard, trying to get into the conversation Carrie and Luke are having.
6:25 am: Pebbles wakes up. She hates this part of her day, I hold her sleepy little self in my lap until she's ready to play.
6:35 am: Back at the keyboard, thinking about the father's rights in an unplanned pregnancy. Does he have any?
6:40 am: Take guitar and drumsticks away from the kids.
6:45 am: Remind adorable children that Daddy is still asleep, and now is not the time to be riding - or even pushing - the tricycle up and down the hall. Remind self not to grit teeth, it’s hard on the molars.
6:52 am: Make enquiries as to why Pebbles is buck naked. Go downstairs to rummage in laundry heap for matching clean clothes. Settle for clean clothes.
7:05 am: Back at the keyboard, thinking about Luke and the baby he wanted.
7:09 am: No, we have no bananas. We have oranges, grapes and apples. No, Pebbles, please listen. We have no bananas. We have oranges, grapes, and apples. Please be quiet, Pebbles, Daddy is…nevermind.
7:10 am: Out of time. Shut down word processor.

Word tally: 400.

Tom Mabe, my new hero.

Have you heard this? OMG, my sides hurt.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=un_PjRXV5l8

Yeah, I should figure out how to do that video thing.

Sometimes, Life is Like That

Hey, I'm back.

I spent April doing the things I felt were most important, and it just happens that writing didn't make the list. I wrote maybe 1000 words - and I'm trying not to think that if I'd made my goal, I'd be nearing 60K, instead of still around 45. Oh, well. (shrug)

In amongst the Important Things of April, there were other things that did not get done, like me getting my eyes checked. Consequently, I confess I did wrinkle my nose as I plucked my last contact lens from between letters S and D on my keyboard yesterday. (eew) I could reorder online, but my prescription needs to be changed, so I'll have to cram that in somewhere. In the meantime, Ibuprophen for headaches.

Also did not get my hair cut, and did not get to the dentist. Did not buy a new belt, or new jeans. (Went to the mall once, bought one t-shirt and baseball hats for my kids. I know, I know. I suck at shopping.)

Did not get a new hamster, although I wanted to. My husband seems to think the creatures have a better shot at old age if they live somewhere else. Hmph. This, even when I patiently explained that I have talked to the cat about this and he has agreed not to eat any more of the family pets. Even if I do leave the door open. Again.

My WIP is ready to go in a new direction, away from the sadness and toward happier things. I'm glad about this because I was starting to wrory that it just might be too damned depressing. I think I had to fully explore Carrie's losses - experience them myself - before I could achieve this next phase with her. I don't feel the need to express her pain any more, I'm ready for some laughter, flirtation...and yes, sex. Also a relief, because hey, books are supposed to have sex, right?

I hope you're all well and writing like mad!