Tuesday, June 27, 2006

Solid, Liquid or Gas

Okay kiddies,

It's time for a chemistry quiz. The process is simple. For each of the questions below, decide if the answer is a) solid b) liquid or c) gas.

1. When a three-year old "accidentally" throws a pint-sized bowl of cereal with milk on the floor, the contents that reach the floor are _____________.

2. When said bowl of cereal makes a pit-stop on the booster seat, the contents are __________.

3. When the baby tips over a bottle of apple-prune juice and then wedges it into the gap between himself and the side of the highchair, the contents on the high chair are ____________.

4. Given the same scenario, the contents which have become a part of his new khaki shorts are ________________.

5. Given the same scenario again, the contents which result from ingesting some of the juice before wedging the bottle are ___________.

6. When a three-year old decides to "go potty" on her own and, after several minutes of mysterious quiet, comes back into the room with a sly smile, and upon finding the contents of the bathroom trashcan AND a full-sized bath towel stuffed in the toilet with the rest of her, um, potty doings, the result is a ____________.

7. When all six of the above events happen in one hour, much less one day, the contents of the mother-in-charge's brain are __________________.

The first reader with all seven correct answers is exempt from ever babysitting the Jacob children. Anything less than that and you will be locked in a house with two children with two double ear infections in less than a month which antibiotics won't clear up, no ear plugs, a limited quantity of milk, and a cookie that you must split "exactly" in half to please both children.

Ready, set, go!

Monday, June 19, 2006

Trust the process

I am trying. To trust it. To believe that I really don't have to find another freelance gig. That we can survive easily on one salary. To set myself free to write the way I want, the way I should be writing.

My writing teacher at WWfaC would say to "show up at the page." The rest will come, she would say. And I know it's true. So much does come when I merely "show up." But the fear of nothing coming is paralyzing. I am becoming a huge cliche.

The words of "Working," the musical based on the book by Studs Terkel about different folk and their jobs, are running through my head, even though I haven't heard the song since I was about 16. "All I am is just a housewife, what I do is kinda boring, that's my life... take the kids here, take the kids there..." I know that's not me, but I fear that's what I might become. Not having a "job." Not having an "identity" beyond Captain Mommy, helming the crazy ship to fruition. That in and of itself is a huge job, but for some reason, I keep forgetting that.

Voice lessons are probably ending. It's been a good almost 10 year run. Finances are limited. I can't justify spending the money to study (even though I really really enjoy it and hope to go back to performing one day) when I haven't auditioned in years and probably won't for many years to come.

Maybe this is the "stripping down" that successful (financially, anyway) writers talk about--when you strip life down to the basics and take away all distractions so that you don't have any choice but to focus on the page (or screen).

I need to take the internet off of my computer. And my computer solitaire. And everything else.

Speaking of distractions, Sam's awake.

I need a patron. Anyone up for the job? It'll be worth it, I promise!

Sunday, June 18, 2006

A new blog

I'm not abandoning Fallout; I'm adding depth to Fallout in Fallout With Gratitude.

Friday, June 16, 2006

Captain Mommy is losing her mind

oh the illness we've had in our family.

As I told curb girl yesterday, our family is a current walking poster family for birth control, or rather, locking your kids up until they're five and not letting them interact with anyone and bring scary diseases into your house. double ear infections for both children--loverly. It's so fun to try to figure out what's wrong with a 10 month old who doesn't talk but only screams in pain. And the helpful doctors give antibiotics and he gets an ear infection on top of the antibiotics. Poor little guy is on his second full round in five weeks, with a trial of a different one in between.

His sister, whom I suspect is the culprit in bringing Coxsackie or whatever the hell this is into our usually happy home, also has a double ear infection. I have been on the losing end of a sore throat and earache for several weeks and I am currently doing my time in the medical world of drugs as well. Now all we need is for DH to come down with it and it will have run its course. Of course, the World Cup is on, so he would have a perfect excuse to stay home from work to watch it. So far, knock on loads of wood, he is well. I'm waiting for the shoe to drop this weekend.

Packing. Amid boxes. Storage. We have way too much crap. I am as guilty as the rest of the family. Since we haven't yet ruled out the possibility of a third child (although I am leaning towards NO!--see above paragraph about poster family for birth control), I am hesitant to part with so much baby paraphernalia that has found its way into our home. I have tried offering it to my one friend who is pregnant with her first child but she doesn't want it. I have considered selling it to the local baby resale shop, but I know I won't get anything for it. I have thought of donating it. That looks to be the best option. But then if we do have another munchkin, we just have to buy new stuff. Or borrow from our friends, all of whom seem to be finished having children and are in the process of getting rid of their stuff as well. That was a quick age-shift (from having kids to being done with having kids), if you ask me.

And then there are the books. And the toys. And, if you are my husband, the 100s of soccer videos, DVDs, programs, books, bobbleheads, pins and other assorted crap that has "magically" found its way into our home. He will have to rent a separate storage unit just for his "collectibles." Have I mentioned the three full-sized arcade games in the basement? How about the preschool table and six chairs that we just "had to take" when one of the local preschools closed? We have more furniture than we have room for and every time I try to get rid of something, I hear "but it might be worth something."

And he keeps buying. I cringe every time I know he has been to the dollar store, wondering what other crap he will bring into our already overstuffed home. He likes to give our kids presents. How about the present of time? I spent an hour outside playing pirate adventures--"Captain Mommy, let's go search for treasure!"--and working rudimentary soccer drills with my three year old last night, which DH sat on the couch and watched World Cup that he had DVRed. I guarantee that she valued the time I spent with her more than the piece of plastic toy or the 29th puppet he bought the last time he went to Deals. And Rabbi Shmuely (from Shalom in the Home, another program he felt the need to DVR and subsequently watch last night) would agree with me.

On an entirely different note, does anyone out there in cyberland know how to set up a sub-blog on a blog? I have another series of stuff I'd like to post but it doesn't go with the mish-mash of this blog. Anyone? Anyone? Bueller?

If you haven't read Doxie's blog-book about bathing her dogs, you absolutely MUST. I cried. Fortunately, Leigh, whom I've never met but who I feel I now know intimately, is working on making publishing connections. Maybe she can hook me up!

Friday, June 09, 2006

Where do I want to be today?

This is a weird freewrite from March in response to the prompt "Where do I want to be today?"

I want to overflow with words
Tip them out of my soul
Give up TV—
Except for “Grey’s Anatomy.”

Write at six
Then again at 10
Run far and fast
Sprint if I can

Fly above
Burrow below
Snuggle with the kids
Then let them go.

Sing and sing
And sing again
Songs of praise and
Songs of sorrow.

Movement comes up
Then down again
Willing me; go
Pack some more

Donate books
Box up clothes
Portion out pieces
Of ourselves.

Unknown set before
The past behind
The twilight above us
All in the mind

Home-gazing; Fuzzy,
On three winged trees
Shakespeare’s words
Ride gently next to me.

Feet of iambs
Hands of clay
Are you going to die today?

Without knowing what is right
Dreaming what is true
Seeing us grow up

What has become of you?
What has become of you?