And Friday's freaked-out-mama post was brought to you by...
This fits into my general theory, right, that it takes a good six weeks to acclimatize yourself to any change--having a new baby in the house, being on vacation, starting a new job... one of the exhausting parts about the new school year is spending six weeks breaking in a new batch of goobers, I mean stuberts, I mean students into a semi-civilized state--I think that's one of the reasons teachers burn out so badly. We have to do this every year. But I know week six is coming--I plan for it. This year I've scheduled a doctor's appointment during it, most years I just take a mental health day (can you tell I need one?) and show movies. But this year, being a little more intense than most years--remember, I just came off of a 5 1/2 month maternity leave preceded by part of a year working part time--I hit that six week crash on the Friday before the sixth week... sorry--if I'd seen it coming, I would have warned all of you.
So thanks for putting up with the blog-hysteria (blogstyria?) and let me tell you about my daughter's birthday, which kept us so busy I wasn't able to come any where near my computer yesterday.
It was fun--she turned twelve (isn't that insane? twelve...no more children growing up in my house. I forbid it. Twelve is almost thirteen--gods, who needs another thirteen year old to deal with?) and she hangs out with kids who don't do make up or gossip about boys and who still like dolls and wearing clothes that don't show navels or cleavage (butt-cleavage included) and Bryar and her friends and my sons stayed up until ten o-clock playing hide and seek in the dark. They had a blast--and Kewyn fell asleep in the living room, happy and exhausted, and trust me, this never happens. (Usually it takes three bottles of milk, four stories and a song to get him to fall asleep, and that's if he's so tired he's falling down as he stands.) Mate grumbled about how much pizza we'd have leftover this morning, but I never underestimate how much the growing adolescent eats and for good reason--we barely have enough pizza to make the dog fart this morning and I think T is going to take care of it for lunch. We went to the Teddy Bear factory where they made matching stuffed elephants with ducky bathrobes and slippers and the cave troll got a tiger with the same outfit and Arwyn got a cheetah because mama liked it and we dressed it in pink because mama liked it, but it's still Arwyn's cheetah, don't let anyone tell you differently and the kids rode the carousel and shopped in the Disney store and ate rainbow sherbet and pizza on a dare. (And didn't puke up on the carpet on a prayer!)
All in all it was a good, if exhausting day, and the cherry topper was that I finished the second set of sockies/hat for the impending babies, and it came out so damn cute I can't hardly stand it.
My daughter is twelve today, Mate and I will be thirty-nine next week, our kids are spoiled beyond belief, and all in all it's a good life. If it would stop hurtling by at warp speed, I might be able to keep the panic-blogs to a minimum...
Oh...some other updates:
BOUND is still cooking and spicing quite nicely...I'll forget it's on simmer and then have a sudden scent of 'revise'--like, 'oh, yeah--fifty-years ago you had to drive down the canyons to cross from Forresthill to Auburn--I'll need to remember to change that part' and 'I don't think Nicky gets to still be whiny at the end--I think he's grown beyond that' or 'Yeah--Cory's mom really does need to completely lose it in that chapter--a few more lines of freaking out dialog and it will all be good...' (people who follow the books I'm totally teasing you--you have my permission to give me crap later:-)
The agent hunt and the drive to get my books on national distribution is still going on--I send out my packet (twice now to a sales clerk named Cory--I'm hoping that's a good sign) and spend my days in agonized apprehension--I'm literally hoping agents will send me back my packet to reject me so I can continue the hope of the hunt. I'm hoping to get rejected--how sick is that?
BITTER MOON--my young adult novel which will be romantic and adult but not, well, embarrassingly adult like my last three books and therefore suitable for my middle-schoolers--is starting to take over my brain when I'm in the shower or driving. That's good--when my characters are interacting with wit and passion outside the confines of the computer screen, their depth improves in the writing and the joy in my craft breeds prolifically. I'm starting to like BITTER MOON--it's all good.
And that's about it--I've got to bail to go sleep in the rubble (a time honored birthday tradition) or to continue the knit on sockies and hats so I can finish Arwyn's sweater in time for her to wear it a little bit large...