Mama Bear is Angry

It is not nice to call people names. (Tell me when I get something wrong.)

Took all three kids to an indoor bounce-house to play today. It is full of many inflatable bounce houses and obstacle courses. Kids climb, bounce and fall. Soft, inflatable, bouncy fun but when you have several kids in an enclosed space, kids will bounce into each other. I get it. I can't help it. I take my kids there, anyway.

The older two were in the same Spongebob bounce house today until my son came out, ran to me and began sobbing. I figured he'd bounced into someone else but asked him to calm down and tell me what happened.

"Someone called me an idiot!"

Oh. We have been through this any number of times and you have to ignore kids that say mean things.

"Did you bounce into someone?"

"Yes," he sobs. "I didn't mean to! We were bouncing and I accidentally kicked someone."

"Okay. Did you..." (I don't even get to finish asking if he apologized.)

"I said SORRY! I told him I was sorry and he said he was okay but his mom came in and called me an idiot. I want to go home."

What?
"What mom?"
"I don't know. I just want to go home."

Keeps sobbing. An employee comes over to see if my son is hurt and if he can help. I explain that only his feelings are hurt but many people are looking. Which makes him more embarrassed. "I just want to go home."

I tell him to go splash his face with cold water and as he turns, another kid looks at us, looks down and says, "I'm sorry."

I ask if this is the boy he kicked and my son nods. I ask the boy if he is okay (clearly, he is--he just sprinted by us) and he says yes and that he is sorry, again.

My son just keeps sobbing so I send him off to go splash his face with cold water.
My daughter comes running up and asks where he is. I tell her and she says, "yeah, some lady just came in and called him an idiot!"

"Did your brother kick the boy?"
"Yes, but it was an accident, Mom. We were all bouncing and well, he did not mean to."

Now I have confirmation. While she is his sister, she is his sister. She is THE FIRST ONE to give me every detail when he does something wrong. Occasionally, he does kick and she would tell me so. But she is also thrown by an adult calling him a name. And now I am angry. But I take a deep breath. We had storms ALL night last night, maybe she did not get any sleep. Maybe her son is recovering from something and she thinks he is fragile. But then, why bring him to a BOUNCE house?

I ask my daughter if she can point out the mom but she can't. I ask her to take her other brother on one more slide and then get their shoes. My son comes back from the bathroom and as we go to collect shoes, my daughter touches my arm. "I found her! I wasn't sure but then she called her son over. It's that lady--the one in the recliner, with the blanket."

My son grabs my other arm. "DON'T say anything, Mom! I just want to go home."
"I just want to talk to her for a second, honey."
"NO! Mom, PLEASE, can we just GO?"
He is distraught enough so I don't say anything but look back at mom, who has her feet up, blanket up, smiling and laughing with her husband and I realize that from where she is sitting, she has just watched our whole minor episode. She has seen how upset my son is, she has seen her son apologize, she has seen other people check on my son and she has sat there, snuggled up in her blanket and is having a grand time. I still don't say anything but as another employee cuts our bracelets off, I glare. Her husband looks up for a second but nothing from either one of them.
I am sure they've forgotten but my son was still whimpering the whole ride home. I explain that even grown-ups make mistakes but that the mother should have known better. I explain though that sometimes parents get upset quickly if they beleive their child is hurt. I offer any number of excuses but my son was still whimpering when we made it into the house. "I am not an idiot."

No. He isn't. But I have my doubts about this lady.

Rewriting

Writing without rewriting is the literary equivalent of waltzing gaily out of the house in your underwear. ~Patricia Fuller

Of course, the above quote is true. We all know it is true. And yet, editing/rewriting the WIP is not easy, not fun, not how I was going to spend a Sunday, though I was excited to have the chance. I had some unexpected alone (quiet!) time this afternoon and pulled the draft out. I grabbed a red pen and the pages are bleeding. The good news is, I was very happy to find a few good lines in there!

(I took out entire paragraphs, even a page or two but there were a few really nice words and ideas!)
Rewriting can be productive. In addition to thinning out the pages, I came up with at least forty or fifty new ideas! (One or two might actually pertain to the novel at hand!)

Fun or not, productive or not, it has to be done. Because this mess, as is, is much uglier than me dancing out of my front door in my underwear. (Which would not be pretty, just in case you were curious).

Summer!

The kids are out of school, the pup is a bundle of energy...I don't think I will be very successful at posting more often than I did during the school year! We'll see...might get to sleep in a little more so maybe that'll be enough!

I still have a few books that I have started reading but need to get in gear! I am going to get the kids going on a summer reading list and I want to start one, too! What are you reading?

Enjoy your summer!

Advice from a slacker mom

Things happen.

You may, for instance, have a puppy who might still be small enough to fit through your picket fence. You might even embark upon a home improvement project during this puppy stage and decide to have work done on your deck, which would leave small nails and pieces of lumber lying in the grass, attracting said puppy like a tractor beam. In such cases, you may find it easier to walk the dog in the front yard.

If you have begun such a project, you can guess that rainy weather is on the way. If you have a toddler who loves to run (who doesn't?) and who loves puddles (who doesn't?) at home during this reconstruction phase, you can absolutely guarantee that it will rain. You will want to plan ahead and make sure said toddler is dressed early, ready to just slip on rain boots so he can come along to walk the dog.

If however, you have not planned far enough ahead and said toddler is already tiring and approaching naptime, you might start to consider alternative plans. You may assume it would be easier to just leave the child inside, where it is warm and dry. You think about doing something that you know in your heart is wrong. You may be tempted to sit that toddler down at the table with a snack and allow Dora the Explorer to babysit while you run the dog outside for a few minutes. I can't say what works for your family.

Just a word of advice: if you are tempted to attempt such a maneuver, I suggest checking to ensure you have not left a carton of eggs on the kitchen counter before you run outside.

And so it goes...

"Hey, Mom! That sign says STOP!"
"Yes, Honey! You're getting so big--you can read!"
"Mmm-hmmm. Just like Daddy."

"MOMMY!! My fingers are STUCK!"
Mom takes a deep breath but does not move the pocket door. She tells the two-year-old to take a deep breath, too, which he does--and then slides his own fingers out, by himself.
"WOW! YAY! Honey, you did that all by yourself! What a big boy!"
"Uh-huh!" (Smiles) "Just like Daddy!"

When it is time to get dressed, he puts his arms in the sleeves of his shirt, he holds on to Mom's shoulders as he steps into his pants, one leg at a time.
"I did it! I got dressed ALL BY MYSELF!"
"You are such a big boy!"
"I KNOW! Just like Daddy!"

Unfortunately, those jeans are a little too big. They keep sliding off. A moment ago, he ran right out of them! But he picked them back up and put them on--all by himself.
"Wow! Son, you put those pants on with no help! You did a great job! You got them on, but they are backwards."
"I did it! Just like Mommy!"

Nature vs. nuture

No matter how you raise them, little boys are genetically predisposed to act like little boys. (Especially my youngest--he is ALL boy!)

Puppy dogs, no matter how much you treat them like toddlers, will still behave like animals. I cannot blame a pup for trying to bury a bone (even if the "bone" is an edible dog biscuit.) I can't blame a dog for trying--until she tries to bury it in the leather couch!

A Room of One's Own (Or, How to have the Perfect Vacation without leaving town!)

If taking the road less traveled really makes a difference, it must, at some point lead to a room of one's own. At least for a night! That is what makes all of the difference, at least in my world!

I talk about attending writer's conferences, I envy writers who leave for a week or a weekend to draft their novel but I plan to just hide in my basement. Which never works. Someone always finds me!

A few weeks ago, I took all three kids plus the pup on a road trip, leaving my husband home alone for a few days. He was working and was on call that weekend, so he assured me that he did not get a chance to relax while we were gone. (These seems impossible to me, as we left him in an empty, quiet house!) In any case, when we returned, he suggested I take another night off at a hotel to write, or sleep, or whatever it is that I do.

This past weekend was it! After a week of griping and yelling, I told him I would not go. I did not deserve it. (I needed it but I should have been nicer, first!) Whether he disagreed or just wanted a break from the yelling, he booked the room for me and sent me on my way. I took a draft, the laptop and off I went.

I decided I could make much progress in one night if I just stayed up and fixed it. After I spent far too much time staring at the comfortable bed full of way too many pillows, I amended my plan. I decided I would be a much better writer and mother if I fell into that bed! (Revised plans--much like revised drafts--make much more sense!)

So my book is better but not done. I still did not sleep eight hours but I SLEPT! And the family? They're better, too. They all got a break from my stressed-out behaviour and rather than cringing when I came back in, they were happy to see me. The husband even shook his head and admitted, "I didn't get it. Now I understand why you are so stressed."

Thus ends The Perfect Vacation.

I get my best ideas in the shower

I know you've heard it before but I came up with THE End. Well, the concept for the end. Typed up the idea but now to wrap it all up.
This book WILL be done THIS year.

One month later

A day late

Procrastination is the art of keeping up with yesterday.
~ Don Marquis

(I'm still behind but I can laugh about it, now!) ;)

Freud's Dad???

I should not be posting after an argument so this will set here...at least, for a little bit.

Eventually though--I want other parent's opinions. I KNOW I get touchy--OK, a little bitchy--or WAY bitchy--about a few things but when it comes down to it, no one ever goes into therapy and blames their dad.

Or do they? If you know of ONE person who actually goes into a therapist and says "If only my DAD had done this...(or hadn't)," please tell me. You will be my favorite person. Evah.

After answering a question about grammar, then offering an explanation on punctuation--I announced that this summer, I will be conducting English Boot Camp for my kids.

"English POOP camp?"
"NO. BOOT."
"Bwahaa ha!!! Mom said Poop!"
"No, boot."
"Hey, Mom? Are we having English poop camp?"
"HA!!HA!!HA!!!"

Does that word EVER get old?

In which I retract the idea that a new puppy is giving me more time to write!

While the pup still prefers to sleep on my feet, that doesn't allow me to go very far! While I would love to stand here all day and write, I can't really do that when the mountain of clean laundry to fold is as tall as me. Or can I?

Our youngest

The good news is that I have no excuse not to write--the laptop is on the kitchen counter and our new pup lays on my feet WHENEVER I stay still.

Of course, my family would probably prefer that I fold a little laundry--but she wakes up as soon as I move my foot--so I'm staying and playing, er, writing.

The Historian

The Historian, by Elizabeth Kostova, truly is worth sinking your teeth into! ;)
I've been trying to post a brief review for a few weeks now and may never get it done. Go ahead and read it, if you haven't. I might have an actual review by the time you're done!

(I realize it was a hit about five years ago but, as usual, I'm a bit behind!)

Busted

Trying the "Sugar Busters" plan again but forget to check some things that really ought to be safe--at least, in my mind! My husband bought a platter of deviled eggs from the store for the SuperBowl. I usually make my own but he knows the kids like them and he was buying other snacks.

So, now that I've snagged quite a few for myself over the past two days--now...I look at the nutrition info and ingredients. Sugar AND corn syrup. Both. In deviled eggs. Why?

In Xanadu...

Natalie mentioned Kubla Khan so I asked her if she had any idea who he was.

"We studied him!" she says.

"Who was he?"

"I don't remember."

"Good guy or bad guy?"
She has no idea. So while she's thinking, I start rambling...I've forgotten most of it, of course, but I remember the first line or two...

In Xanadu, did Kubla Khan, a stately pleasure-dome decree...

This is as far as I got. The toddler kept shouting "BE QUIET!" everytime I tried to recite the darn thing. Every. Time.

My pleasure dome would be silent.

Inspiration is fleeting

It's revising time and the WIP has characters, locations, romance, strife...but it was lacking...something.
I think I've got it. Trouble is, I'm jotting notes before the ideas completely flee my head but don't have the time to fully flesh it out. The nights that one or more children wake repeatedly seem, inevitably, to be followed by days where I have a flood of ideas but neither the time--nor the alertness--to put them together.

Nevertheless, 2010 WILL be THE year this gets DONE. (I will look like a zombie but there are trade-offs for everything!)

How is your 2010 progressing?

Mama said there'd be days like this...

My mother did teach me to use recipes to cook.
She also said (often) that I could not walk and chew gum, at the same time.

So--I stay away from gum and enjoy red wine while I cook, instead! Apparently, I cannot drink, talk and cook at the same time.

My husband and I are trying to kick a few pounds, together. So I found a recipe for a pasta sauce (to be enjoyed only with whole wheat pasta, of course) that I thought he'd like. He said it sounded good and asked me to double the recipe--so there would be leftovers this week. So I was sipping, talking and doubling. Rather than 1/4, I put in 1/2 cup of basil and crushed red pepper.

As it turns out, the original recipe called for 1/4 TEASPOON of red pepper.

When it's you...

In a book, a little foreshadowing is all it takes. You can see when something is not meant to be.

My kids? My husband? When things aren't going their way, I remind them to step back and take a look--if it's this hard, perhaps it wasn't meant to be.

But me? I'll never learn...

Even when it is a simple pot of soup. I've had a taste for a bowl of homemade black bean soup. With the winter storm marching this way, what could be better than soup--and soup stored for the next couple of days? I'm thinking black bean, pea soup, cheddar sherry and if my husband is lucky--even chicken tortilla soup.

What could be easier than a pot of black bean soup? Not much. And yet, it has quite literally been on the back burner for the better part of the day. With one child home sick, one eternally uninspired and the third, well, TWO--it has taken me this long. If any one of them had been going at this for this long, I would tell them that God, the Universe or Someone had decided it was not in the cards for today. Me? I just overflowed the food processor trying to blend some and (you can probably tell) have poured another glass of wine in the process but am I going to quit now? Ha!

In my fantasies, my family smiles and enjoys the warm house full of the smells of homecooking. In reality, who really wants to smell cooked onions and spilled soup? And yet, I persist...

(I even had all of the ingredients for this one. Not for all of the soups but since the child who stayed home sick today ONLY wants jello--I ventured out to the store--to get that, plus ingredients for the other soups. With the "winter storm" approaching, I thought soups sounded good. However, with the "winter storm" approaching, I could not find a parking place at my normal store. Who has to go to 2 grocery stores with 2-4 inches of snow expected? Puh-leeese.)

Part of it took this long because once the kids were IN bed, I found a few songs/rhymes/raps and other tactics to help the 3rd grader remember each of his spelling words for tomorrow's quiz. We were working on these at exactly the same time that my daughter began to feel better (God Bless Motrin) and was working on the math assigment sent home. She had missed the class and had no idea how to do each section, so I was teaching math and singing spelling and running downstairs to stir soup. Again, if it had been any of them...

My husband is re-reading The Celestine Prophecy again. This time, he reminded me--"you know, if this were in the book, it'd be clear that you weren't meant to finish the soup..."
And yet...

So, my dear readers, the foreshadowing is clearly there. It is 10:30 and I am finally about to pour a bowl of soup for dinner. My kids are reasonably ready for tomorrow. So there should not be a shadow of a doubt that tomorrow will be a snow day. But we will have soup. So far, just black bean soup. Which no one eats but me.