Wednesday Writer’s Cafe

I stayed home. I just didn’t have it tonight. I’m still fighting my way back from that delightful concussion I gave myself at the end of last week. Between de-cluttering, which I do every fall, preparing for guests to arrive tomorrow, preparing for a party I am having on Sunday, and staying up late with hubby to get through my novel reading….there s just nothing left in the tank. I’m actually running a low grade fever, I’m so exhausted.

So without further ado, I go to bed.

Wednesday Writer’s Cafe

I bailed.

I know, I know. I never miss unless something major has gone down. But really I didn’t get anywhere near enough sleep the night before and when I tried to grab a nap my kiddo was incapable of letting me. Plus I didn’t have a sitter. And the other mom who brings her kids to write in (they play with mine super well), told me they weren’t coming. AGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

Does that qualify as major?

It did to me.

So I stayed home. I didn’t even write. I didn’t even write my bog post for Wednesday. I watched documentaries and painted. I needed that break though, let me tell you. Yesterday felt almost as long as the drive back from Park City, Utah, which I did in one day, all 850 odd miles of it, with my kiddo.

So onto the photo situation. I promised you a reveal this week and I will.

The problem is…..

Everyone seems to like one photo and I really like another. I posted the photos to facebook because I wasn’t getting enough meaningful feedback here. And I got a full slew of friends who swear this is the best photo ever.

Image One
Most voted for.

I like it. I do. It needs some photo shopping, like the shadow and lines on my neck.

But personally, I feel pulled to this one.

IMG_2612 (2)

Yes, it needs the shine fixed on my lip gloss. I’m thinking about maybe bringing it up from black and white to a tonal shot, not full color but playful. It could be interesting given how much of my hair is on display and is blue and green.

Sigh, what’s an author to do. Tell me, please?

I am not tired, I am frustrated

I think I have said that like nine times the last ten minutes. Homeschooling is painful. It really is. But growth is always painful. Or so I remind myself son a daily basis, so I will keep taking a deep breathe and help my son grow.

Yesterday was my first do it all weekday since Jersey came back home. Sigh. I did not get everything done. Surprise, surprise. I suppose if it had been easy before I wouldn’t have been looking to rehome my dogs in the first place. Somehow I need to find a way to recalibrate the math and make more hours in the day.

Right now I am writing this blog while I help my son with his reading/writing home school work. How effective is that? I have no idea. Laughing. But since I plan to move from the blog to working on my spy novel in a minute, I’ll let you know later.

Just when you thought it was safe to make plans….

Friday night I got a call from the dogs’ new owners. Jersey had been digging in their back yard and they rent. Would I please take him back but they want to keep Blue. Absolutely.

So after I hang up the phone, my husband asks how I feel about this and I tell him quite honestly I’m not sure I can do it again. Jersey was my dog. And giving him up was excruciating. So hubby says, Ok, let’s try keeping him and see how it goes with just him.

I picked him up Saturday morning. He was definitely wigged out the first day but has since settled back in to home. I think he’s happier being the only dog in the house, maybe.

But getting him back means I need to make some changes so I can meet his needs now a long with everything else on my list. sigh. What it really means is I need to get up an hour earlier so I can walk him before my husband leaves for work. The problem with that, I am NOT a morning person in the worst way.

Take today for example, first day I need to get up at 6 so I can spend an hour drinking coffee and working on my writing, before I walk the dog. I rolled out of bed at 740, pulled on the first clothes I could find, poured myself a cup of coffee in a to-go mug and started walking the dog with my eyes still mostly closed. I don’t think I even remember the first stumbling half of the walk.

I could continue to get up at 730 and have time to walk the dog before the hubby leaves for work, if I want to repeat the stumbling along with coffee experience daily, but that would mean giving up my writing time. And this is the kind of decision that led to me agreeing to rehome them in the first place. I remember in my 20s getting up at 445 to work out before being at the office at 7. I remember the job I had with a 5 AM start time. I had no problem making these hours. Why can’t I get up?

I think it’s because patiently and kindly handling my son all day long is more exhausting than when I worked two jobs, than when I worked a full time job and I went to college. And that sucks.

If only I knew then….

Remember when you were a kid and you would say when I’m an adult I’ll …

go to disneyland every day

eat ice cream for dinner

never go to bed

etc, etc, etc

And your parents would say just wait, when you’re an adult you’ll find out you have to go to work every day, and pay the mortgage, and the car payment, put dinner on the table, etc, etc, etc.

Sure they were right. But those things aren’t that hard really.

Why didn’t anyone ever talk about what’s really hard being an adult. Making the choices that you hate for because it is the right thing to do for everyone involved. That’s what sucks about being an adult.

I ┬áspent a good hour yesterday bawling like a baby after I rehomed my two dogs. It made sense logically. They were not getting their needs met with us, not since I started home schooling my kiddo. And the situation was not going to improve anytime in the next several years. Home schooling is only going to get more time intensive, the subjects that are hard for the kiddo will only get more complicated. The house must be cleaned, I can’t afford a cleaner. Food bought, meals cooked. These things are not negotiable.

What is negotiable is this: the dogs, my health, my attempt at a writing career. Which one to give up? Which one do I stop spending time on? This is the part that is hard about being an adult.

Clearly, I picked the dogs. I met with a couple who was interested. They brought their current dog with them, he was healthy and friendly. They seemed nice. I let them take my four legged babies home. Then I cried, all the way home, and for some time once I got home, until she sent me a text, with picture of my four legged babies happily laying on the deck at their place.

This morning my house felt empty. My son wanted to talk about the dogs again, it’s how he processes. I managed not to cry but it was a struggle. And then I got a phone call from the new owners, they took the dogs to the vet this morning. Suddenly I feel so much better. They are responsible enough pet owners to get their new babies immediately checked by the vet. Of course, I knew the dogs were healthy, but they checked.

I think everyone will be happier in the long run and quite possibly in the short run for the dogs. They have a new four legged playmate, a huge forest to run in, owners without children who spend their free time hiking and camping.

My husband is already perkier (he doesn’t like pets).

My son gleefully announced, “I forgot to put my shoes away and the dogs didn’t chew them, because the dogs aren’t here,” this morning.

I will eventually finish grieving. But for now, please ignore the occasional fat tear that sneaks down my cheek.