LOL

A few days ago, I was trying to herd my crew into bed and discovered my two little girls creating some interesting contraptions in their room. I walked in and they handed me one that they had been testing out on each other. "Mom, we invented a hypnotizing machine!" "Hmmmn," I thought, "This could be useful." The amazing thing was that, for the most part, the machine was a success. I just waved it over Sophie's head and chanted, "To bed I said, 'til morning lights upon your head!" And sure enough, she went to bed, giggling. Sarah, however, only responded to Samuel's hypnotizing, sooo....no such luck. Instead, I got a lot of silly dancing until I finally convinced Sam to send her off to bed. :)

Today over dinner, I asked my four-year-old, "How are you feeling today, Sarah?" Her totally straight-faced response, "I feel like a moose is eating me."

In the van, after a quick trip out in our jammies to return some rented videos, I mentioned that Grandma is coming over tomorrow so we can do something fun together. Sophie piped up from the backseat, "Hey, maybe we'll play some poker!" You must understand that neither Luke nor I have a clue how to play poker...and I'm pretty sure Grandma doesn't either. LOL

Have a cheerful day, loved ones!!

The One That Is Writing Me

Perusing the writing section at Borders recently, I came across an interesting looking book, one of the who-knows-how-many written by successfully published writers, for writers like myself. I don't remember the title or the author, but I do remember the first bit of advise: Don't tell ANYONE you are a writer or anything hinting at writing a book. I paused...a little surge of panic. I've been calling myself a writer, out loud, to people...for years. And then, the worst of it. My last blog entry...I announced to the whole world, well, to my very few loyal readers that I was working on a book. Oh geez, I really blew it. This author warned that I should tell no one...not my mother, not my husband or friends, especially not my children, who would roll their eyes in embarrassment. I would mark myself as a crazy dreamer, a fool. I put the book back on the shelf. Too late for that one.

So what about the book I mentioned in my last blog, the one I was meant to write? Let me elaborate, since, apparently, I've already crossed into the dangerous territory of labeling myself as a writer, perhaps I can alienate myself a bit more. The truth is, the book...it really is the one that is writing me. I've never had any serious aspirations to become a published author. Blogging covers that need to be heard pretty fully. Sure, it would be nice to get paid for doing what you love, but the point is, I don't need it...and that is a great feeling. I love my labels: wife, mommy, friend, writer, dishwasher, under-the-cushions-stuff-vaccumer, but I also realize all these things are as transient as the moment. So I love them, but try not to cling to them. Writing is simply how I live...it's been that way for a very long time now. What I experience and how I grow seeps into my writing. And sometimes, even more poignant, the writing is the experience. That's what I'm talking about. I'm not sure I can explain it in any other way. This book that is writing me is one of my crazy, intentional ideas...an adventure in creative non-fiction...an attempt to observe, question, document, and grow as a writer, as a person, all while savoring the words and art of it.

The joy is in the writing, and in walking, and in tickling, and in sipping a hot cup of tea. The joy is in folding blueberries into a bowl of wholegrain muffin batter. The joy, my dears, is in now, and now and now. When I forget, the pool of water pouring off the table ruffles my joy. The moments of quarreling children and tantrums overwhelm me. These moments, too, are the way of it. And these are the ones that are writing me, as I am writing this post.

So there you have it, the dreaming writer's life and the book I was meant to write. Now you can roll you eyes. :)

The One I Was Meant To Write

This morning I'm making pancakes...right this very minute. Isn't that awesome? These words are coming to you straight from my kitchen counter top, in between pancake flips and table-setting. And who, you may ask, is responsible for this wonder of wonders? Someone who thought giving me a little pink laptop computer would help me to "blossom."

Now the kids and I have finished our breakfast, so this Saturday morning calls me and my laptop outside. You know your husband has been mowing the lawn when the kiddy pool is perched awkwardly atop the play fort. I spend many mornings and evenings after the kids are in bed, sitting on the deck or on my front porch with my little computer. Lately, Sunday has become my day out. A few hours to myself is always something to look forward to. I've been dreaming for several years of taking this kind of time for myself, but have had a difficult time pulling myself away, leaving my whole crew to fend for themselves (and also a little nervous about how the house will look when I return.) Once again, the giver of my pink laptop has priorities...I have noticed. Last Sunday, exhausted after returning from vacation, and a little emotionally overwhelmed, I was not in the best of moods. I certainly didn't feel like writing. After a few hours of making myself 'busy' around the house and ranting about why I really don't have time to go, my husband said, "you are going!" and saw me to the door. The funny thing is that I have been talking for years about taking time like this, but when he finally asked me, "What can I do to help you blossom?", I needed his help to get over myself enough to just walk out the door. Honestly, I love being loved by him.

I'm developing an affair, however, with Tim Hortons lattes...he pushed me to it. I tuck my little computer in my backpack and head of for some quiet time. I love sitting with my mug of coffee, soothing music on my ipod, writing away at my table in the corner. It's the book I'm working on...the one I affectionately call, "the one I was meant to write." And it may very well be that, in truth, this is the one...that is writing me.