Postcards from the edge

Hello, writers and moms!

I just logged in quickly here at work, and I was astounded to see the difference in the colors on my PC here vs my laptop at home. Dude, this is ugly! So I'll have to fiddle with those sometime, sorry.

Work is long but not hard, I miss the kids, I miss being home. I miss writing time, but hey, it's only temporary. In the meantime, I'm writing when I can, and reading when I can't write. Also watching The Shield on DVD - it's really, really good.

I hope y'all are well, I'll make the rounds of the blogs soon.

Happy Mother's Day!

Hello, fellow Mummies.

I hope you're all having a wonderful day. I did.

*hugs*

Progress

A mini-progress report for my mini-progress. I have crossed the 10K mark!

Against all odds, in this house. The other morning I got up at 6 and turned on my notebook, put some water on to boil, and wrote:

"I dreamed of a hawk, soaring like an angel of death over the valley."

BamBam appeared, and turned on the TV. I reminded him to feed the cats, and he asked me for some breakfast. I toasted a bagel, and sat back down, hands poised over the keyboard. Pebbles called out from the bedroom. I got her up and convinced her to play with toys, then I made my coffee. I sat back down, and read what I'd written. I added:

"Its shadow"

and there was a tug on my leg, accompanied by the word "MumMUM!" and a rather strong, unpleasant odor. Diaper change. Then I made lunches, woke DH, and it was time to take BamBam to the bus stop. Word count for the day: 16.

However, I have added words every day this week. Not many, but my spreadsheet has an entry for every day, and that feels good.

And it hits the fan.

Oy.

The girl we hired didn't work out. By "didn't work out," I mean she called in sick three times in three weeks, seriously, have you ever called in sick even once at a new job? With a cold? With a sore knee? I kid you not. So, we had a conversation about dedication and commitment, and I asked her what would happen on the day she called me to say she couldn't work because she had a cold, and I told her I had no childcare arrangements for that day, and anyway both my kids are sick too, and sorry, but she'd have to tough it out?

She decided she wasn't up to the job.

What this means is that for a while, probably a few months starting on the 20th of May, I'm going to be working six days a week, fifty hours. I'm not thinking about that and what it means for this household, I'm just going to deal. Today is Friday. Tomorrow is Saturday, and it's going to be okay.

Yesterday I was at work alone for a while. I tidied my desk, threw out seventy-five of the post-its that my (treacherous, abandoning, beloved) co-worker loves so much. I was surprised to find that I was at peace. Work is a familiar place to me, and I feel comfortable with my hands on the wheel, guiding the business through the ebb and flow of customers. And hey, it's one heck of a lot easier than looking after the kids.

So maybe say a little prayer for me, and cross your fingers that my DH will suddenly learn to cook.

Mummy's girl

Pebbles has discovered books. Well, she knew about books, but this past week she's become rather passionate about them. Just try to walk past her, where she sits in a puddle of cardboard, opening and closing the multicolored, multi-textured tomes, struggling to turn the pages, chattering happily to herself.

"UH!" She says, holding up her favourite, MOO,BAA,LA LA LA. "Read to me!"

And so, of course, we've been doing a lot of Mooing and Baaing, and very little laundry.

What joy! I watch her, and I imagine the places she'll go, the people she'll meet. The things she will see, safe here at home, and the things she'll learn. I hope that books are a respite and a joy to her, as they are to me.

She's just like her mum, I think happily (and secretly) to myself, hugging that little evidence of me - my legacy - close. And then hugging her close, instead, and settling into another round of GOODNIGHT MOON. I love to see myself in my kids, maybe we all do. I'm quick to ascribe traits to this little bundle of change: she's fearless like her Dad, because she climbs everywhere, up the stairs, on the back of the sofa. (Nevermind she hasn't any real experience with the downside of gravity and she doesn't know better.) DH says she's got my temper, and while I can't deny she has one, I tend to think it looks more like his.

What traits have you shared with your children, through nature or nurture?

The dog days of motherhood

Hello writers!

I can't believe it's been two weeks since I checked in. Wow, but anyway.

I'm in a phase right now when all my resources - diminshed by cold and sinus infection - are going to my family, work and home. We didn't hire the girl from Yemen, there was a whole government application process that was going to take weeks, if not months, and we were really running out of time. We did find someone, though, so all's well that ends well, except for the poor girl from Yemen. I do like her a lot.

I'm a really lousy housekeeper. Seems no matter how much time I spend cleaning, the place is always a wreck. It bothers me the most when I'm tired, which is not the best time for cleaning, but whatever. We're a happy, mostly healthy, loving family. So the place is messy. Clear a spot to sit and have a cookie and some tea.

*Yawn* Pebbles thinks cow's milk is revolting. She also spurns formula. She likes to nurse every hour or so through the night. Any suggestions? *Yawn* Might not be so bad if I could sleep between nursing, but nooooo, I use that time to do my very important worrying. And that's even after reading THE SECRET for half an hour before lights out. What's the matter with me?

On the bright side, I'm down 20 lbs. {G}

Writing, well hey. Maybe later. Right now I need to take an Advil and dry my hair.
Keep blogging, I'm leaning on y'all more than you know.

Monday Monday

Little Miss 4:30 am is asleep. Whew. I think she had some belly cramps, poor mite.

I've begun one of those chores that never seems to be completely done - I dragged out one of those plastic-drawer organizer thingies and emptied it. Why? Can't remember, now that the whole kitchen table is covered with crap I can't throw away but don't particularly want - and certainly don't need right at the moment. Oh,yeah, I thought it would make a good activity-chest. It now holds coloring/activity books and crayons, colored pencils, markers, construction paper, play-dough and accessories, paint and accessories, and craft stuff - felt, googly eyes, popsicle sticks, pipe cleaners. So that stuff is finally all in one place, and I'm not dealing with the rest until I've had some tea.

We've chosen someone to fill the soon-to-be-empty chair at work. She's from Yemen, she's bright and sweet and I'm happy.

My wee Pebbles is going to be one year old this weekend. I'm ecstatic, I'm bursting with love, I'm devastated. I'm making lasagne for fifteen - everybody has their way to deal, eh?

And in other news, guess what we did yesterday??? Hmmm??

We went to Chapters! I had gift certificates from Christmas, that's how long it's been. I bought:

Scent of Shadows - yeah, I have a copy, but nobody's allowed to touch that. (Thanks, Vicki!)
Taste of Night
Dead Witch Walking
The Virgin's Lover, Philippa Gregory
The Belly Button Book, Sandra Boynton
Franklin is Bossy
The Berenstain Bears and the Trouble with Chores
The Berenstain Bears - No Girls Allowed
Clap Your Hands! - an Elmo book with a puppet built in that Pebbles adores.

I accosted every salesperson who passed within ten feet of me to show them SOS and ask whether they've read it yet, and told them they absolutely must. They had a few in the stacks, and they were setting some more out on the tables by the checkout line.

Chapter three is coming along. I'm worldbuilding, (or Scottish village building, anyway) and enjoying it. My copy of A KINDLY PLACE? LIVING IN SIXTEENTH-CENTURY SCOTLAND is coming in very handy. Off to snatch a few moments now.

Run ragged but feelin' good

So, life trips along.

Interviewing is almost over, I've narrowed it down to a smallish handful and we're talking to people a second time this week in preparation for the Big Choice. Hmmmm. Who do I want to share a tiny office with for the next However Long? Who can take care of my business, my other baby, that which makes all other things (financially) possible? Who will my customers like the best? So many things to think about.

Many miles to go today, groceries, an interview, laundry, supper, homework, baths and hopefully a nod to personal hygeine in there somewhere. It's been like this.

But last night, at 9:45 I figured I had twenty minutes left in me, and I wrote. I nearly had to use a crowbar to get my butt (which is shrinking nicely, in case you're interested (G)) into this chair. But I did it! And I wrote 250 words. Yay, me! So it is possible, I *can* push a little harder.

For now though, maybe some makeup and a cuppa before I have to run.

Hope you're all well.

I'm always learning

A chunk of banana the size of a baby's palm will almost - but not quite - stick to the side of a cat.

Cat fur does not impede the digestive system of an infant, nor does cat food.

A person can go in-freaking-sane trying to keep an infant from ingesting cat fur and cat food when said infant REALLY WANTS TO.

Beer helps.

Twinsday

Hoy. Is 11:30 am too early to start drinking???

The twins, my nieces are here today. I love them, I truly do, They're sweet. Their mother is Expecting shortly, and so as it is with many girls this age, they love All Things Baby. Which means they tell me everything she does:

"Aunt Cindy, she laughed!"
"Aunt Cindy, she burped!"
"Aunt Cindy, she likes when I do this!"
"Aunt Cindy, there's food on her shirt!"

They're also budding experts, so they like to let me know when it's time to check her diaper, feed her, give her a drink, put her down or pick her up. Did I mention they're twins? So there are two of them, which means there is a voice in my ear every moment of the day.

And this is the easy part of the day. When BamBam comes home, they'll all fight over toys.

Some much-needed encouragement

My husband noticed that I haven't been writing much lately. I was a little surprised that he brought it up, my writing is a part of our life that is relegated to the place where we put things that are seldom acknowledged. Tricky things, you know. Potential minefields of conflict.

He told me once that he doesn't bring it up because he doesn't want to put pressure on me. You see, we're facing a period of uncertainty just now, and to be honest, a book deal would be Just the Thing. But you know, that's not something to keep in your pocket when you're trying to be creative. (S)

So anyway, he noticed, and he asked me about it. "It's what you want to do," he reminded me, "you just need to keep doing it."

"I know," I said, "it's just that I'm failing at it and I'm frustrated."

"You're not failing," he replied, as he scrubbed around the kitchen tap, "you're doing it. You're a writer already. You just need to finish something, so you can either get it published or go on to the next one. Keep trying. I'm going to read your friend's book (Vicki's) and I'm going to read something of yours."

Dontcha love him?

So last night I sat down and I wrote. About 500 words. And I've decided that I'm going to keep up with Susan.

Things I'm grateful for today:
My husband
I don't have to work today
Baby's asleep, and the words are coming.

For supper:
Mediterranean Chicken and Sausage stew

This way lies madness, Part II

Night before last, that Baby of mine woke up at 11:00 pm, and stayed up until 4:00 in the ever-loving morning.

We went downstairs and watched part of V FOR VENDETTA, (not bad) and played with toys. At 2:00 am DH offered to take her for a bit, so I napped until 2:30, when he brought her to me, sleeping. Of course she immediately woke up.
"All done, all done," she signed, with a whimper.
"Baby go to sleep," I said.
"All done."

I didn't actually break down until 3:30 or so; one of the few times that I have cried with this baby. I was a little bit off when I had my first, there were so many more tears back then. How different things are now.

As we finally drifted off at 4:00, I was thinking about how far I've come as a mother. These long, slow, empty nights when I feel like I'm the only person in the whole world don't have so much power over me as they once did. I know now that I'll be okay, that the sun will come up and I can still have a good day even if I'm really, really tired.

And I did. I had one interview and one no-show, (have you ever not shown up for a job interview???) I laughed and I played with my kids and my husband made me supper and I was okay. At about 10:00 I started to feel the pull of fatigue, the heavy melancholy, the vulnerability. So I cast aside A BLADE OF GRASS, it's a very good book, but I'm really starting to worry about the two MCs. No anxiety, not tonight. Instead, I found my copy of Outlander, and I went to bed.

This way lies madness.

I've been eating a lot lately - a lot of crap, that is. Any kind of junk, all kinds of junk, and the more I eat crap, the more crap I want to eat.

I noticed it (again) after supper tonight, when I'd eaten my meal and my dessert and I still wanted Something. Something else. Something more.

"What is this?" I asked myself. "I'm not hungry."
"Ah," came that damnable inner voice, "But are you Full?"
"Damn you, inner voice," I replied, "and pass the cupcakes."

It's true. I'm not Full.

I have two beautiful kids, a wonderful husband, gainful employment, a comfortable home, and the best family and friends ever. For these things I am grateful, but still I want Something Else. Something More.

So I ate my extra cupcake (hey, they don't stay fresh forever, ya know)and I thought about it.

By and large, I don't get to decide how I spend my time. It's fine, it's exactly the gig I signed up for when I gave birth, but still. A little more time to sit on my butt reading a book or watching a movie would be nice. And I haven't gone out with friends in a loong time. I haven't been to a bookstore in ages. I haven't been exercising, or even getting much fresh air (it's winter, after all.) There's not a single thing planned that I'm looking forward to. Romance? Pah!

So I'm eating stuff that tastes good, as a consolation. Self-defeating, yes, and not awfully satisfying. I'm lucky I haven't been gaining any weight, praise be to the Creator, who in her/his wisdom invented breastfeeding. I cannot allow this to go on. It's a bad habit, for one thing, and unhealthy, and I'll get fat. Er. (G) I could take the same few dollars and buy a book, or some bubblebath. Some other treat for me.

So. I'm going to arrange a trip to Chapters, sans-offspring. It's my birthday soon, and I still have gift certificates from Christmas. There's my thing to look forward to. And just maybe I'll have a few drinks on Saturday night with that handsome fellow I married. In between, I'll keep trying to get writing time when I can. Baby steps, baby steps.

Now, where are the Bits-n-Bites??

Thoughts

Baby Girl woke up at 4:45 a-freaking-m this morning, I kid you not. Bonus, though, she's asleep early. I'm intentionally not following this scenario through to tomorrow morning in my tired litle mind, I'll just enjoy the extra hour and plunk out some words.

yay, me!

Only two interviewees tomorrow, one of whom indicates on her resume that she knows a few things about computers. Handy, that, as I do have a COMPUTER STORE. I was surprised how many applicants actually just learned to turn on them blasted new-fangled thingies. S'okay, I have a paper shredder. (sigh)

Visited with Beloved Neighbour and her kids today, which did me some good. We were on mat leave together and I miss seeing her a few times a week. So cool to see how our four kids are growing, all so different from one another.

Taking a little breather

I've been taking a break - haha, I know - taking a break from NOT writing. No, this time I'm taking a break from thinking about writing and feeling guilty and icky for not writing.

I've had to do this before. The way my life works, much like your own, no doubt, there's lots of time when my hands are busy and my mind isn't. I tend to let it circle around writing and my feelings about writing while I'm folding laundry, cooking, whatever. End result - by the time I sit down I'm half worried and already feeling frustrated. So last week I decided to back off a little, and I'm already feeling fresher and more anxious to get to my keyboard.

Miscellaneous:
March break is here and Little Boy is home.
Baby girl discovered how to climb stairs yesterday.
The big 34 is coming up next week, yoy. (sigh)
Have eight people coming for job interviews tomorrow.
Still on the hunt for more meatless recipes.

What I'm grateful for today:
It's sunny, and I'm already partway done the laundry.
I'm grateful for this computer, and the time I have to use it.
Will be seeing Adored Neighbour and her kids on Wednesday. We live so close, see each other so little.
I am learning to be more patient with Little Boy. Feeling good about that.

Scent of Shadows

Have you got $10? Oh, good. Take it to the bookstore, and Buy. This. Book.

Vicki Pettersson's breakout novel, The Scent of Shadows, is the fast-paced, no-holds-barred story of Joanna archer - onetime social outcast turned kickass superhero.

The term that kept coming to my mind as I read this book was "fully-realized." Ms. Pettersson takes no shortcuts and makes no excuses, she invokes all the senses to ensnare the reader and make the reading a complete experience. Whether it was the clinking of ice cubes in a glass, or the sensation of heels on pavement, I was present and engaged for every moment of Joanna's journey. Skilfully handled backstory - leaked most reluctantly throughout the action, strengthens the bond between Joanna and the reader as we hurt for her, suffer her shocks and sneer at her enemies. And she never lets us down - her reactions are unfailingly human (or superhuman), seldom predictable, and true to her, flawed as she is. Deliciously, completely, forgiveably flawed.

I finished reading a week ago now, and I miss Joanna. A trail of breadcrumbs already scattered awaits. Can't wait to find out what Ms. Pettersson has in store for us next.

Unsettled

I have one of those bad feelings today. Jittery, and a little nauseous. Probably it's nothing, here's hoping.

One time I got like this on the way to a party, I had to pull the car over and calm down. Later, at the party, some guy pulled out a knife and stabbed two people. There have been other times too, but that's by far the most ...dramatic. (S)

Do you ever have these feelings?

We're getting Sara's snow later today, it's supposed to make quite a mess.

So, our Miss Vicki goes off to San Fransisco today, I'm sure we're all thinking about her. I'm almost finished reading SOS, and it'll blow your mind. Go ye forth to the bookstore! Right now!

This is one pureeeetty dull blog. Sorry about that. I have lots of ideas for craft posts, idea posts, but the trick is in finding the time to articulate those in an intelligent manner.

I've not managed many words lately, I'll do a count later and update the progress meter. Some, not many.

You know, I really think too much. There are separate facets to writing, I know you'll agree. There's the marketing end (Is this a commercially viable novel?) The craft end (Does this scene do more than one thing? How can this dialogue be improved? etc etc etc!) and then there are the endless plot considerations. This is what I'm thinking about today.

Did you read those books when you were a kid, the ones with multiple endings and you chose the responses to various prompts in the story and sort of created your own destiny? I see that when I'm writing, the endless web of possibilities, a to b to c, or else e to f. Which is better? Which is the most interesting, or realistic, or imaginative? Which choices lead me forward to the best book I can write, which choices showcase my characters' strengths and weaknesses the best?

Obviously I can't write like this. Some consideration will be necessary - critical, in fact - but I'm trying to trust in my subconscious to untangle the threads and give me a whole story. The story I am meant to write. I don't know if I believe the notion that the stories already exist, whole and perfect, and we only need to channel them onto the page, but I am certain that I cannot browbeat one onto my hard drive. I've tried bullying already, and it didn't work. This time, I want only to listen, at least until I find my stride.

I've made my peace with Viggo, it's true he was a surprise, but I'm inclined to view him as a gift and not an obstacle. More of the same, really, learning to trust my own creative instincts and stay open.

So, BamBam wants me to play Lego.

Today will be my third consecutive day of work - that's work at work, not at home. Employee's siblings are visiting from AB, so in order for her to actually see them, she needs some time off. I like being at work, it's peaceful and fulfilling in a way that stay-at-home-motherhood isn't, but by the time the week is up I'll be glad. It's a lot of time away from Pebbles and BamBam, and the laundry, well, it's like Damomma says. I get it washed and dried fine, it's the folding and putting away that never seems to be finished.

Wrapping up another week of sick around here, we're down to a mild case of pinkeye in Pebbles, probably from rubbing snot into her eyes. (eeeeeew!) I had a fever for a few days, I just couldn't get warm unless I was in the tub. Thank heavens for my Most Wonderful Husband.

Valentines' Day with kids is much like any other day, at least for us, but we had some small presents and there were some roses and a pint of Ben & Jerry's. It's crazy sinful, that stuff.

Writing? I've been avoiding it in my mind, cautious that I don't get bored with it in my non-writing time. There has been quite a bit of non-writing time, what with everything. I'm getting flashes and ideas, and I'm looking forward to sitting down with my characters and getting some words done. I'm still around 3K, how sad is that? My progress meter just doesn't move like Sara's.

Whaddya mean, Viggo?

RIP, Anna Nicole. I hope you find yourself, now. I hope your baby gets a loving, stable home.

In writing news, there hasn't been much time in between blowing my nose, but I'm in a good place. I've written parts of Chapter One, Four and Seven, which is different for me. Right now the chapters are just sections containing a changing event, but it's as good a place as any to begin.

One thing I'm struggling with (and seem to be losing) is that my hero says he looks like Viggo Mortensen in LOTR but with the lighter hair. Here. I don't think so, but he keeps going back that way even when I try to make him look more like Josh Holloway. Probably best to let him have his way, he knows better than me what he looks like. Viggo is maybe more interesting, I just wouldn't really classify him as eye candy, you know?