There is Taylor Swift in my head

and I’m not sure how I feel about that. Yesterday reading other people’s blogs gave great prompts for my blog so I thought I would try it again today. The first thing I saw was a video by Taylor, Shake it, I think it’s called, and I was transfixed. Now why was I transfixed? Dancers. Yes, I am admitting to one of my seldom mentioned addictions: dancers, martial artists, yogis with skills – basically anyone who can do things with their body that takes years of practice, fascinates me. One time in Amsterdam I almost missed a comedy show I had tickets to because I couldn’t drag myself away from a street demonstration of Capoeira. Luckily my hubby was there to strong arm me away and down the street. All this is to explain why I watched the entire video and now she’s stuck in my head.

Today my kiddo has to take his Measurement of Academic Progress exam. When you home school through an ALE they want you to prove you’re been effective as a teacher during the year. So my time is short this morning. I need to take advantage of this calm before the storm to write what I can.

I’ll leave you with the words of Taylor (and a few of mine), a players got a play, and a haters got to hate, so this writers got to write.

So Many interesting prompts….

Usually I post up here then check out what all the folk I follow have been up to lately in my reader. today for some reason I went the other direction.

So the first prompt that caught my eye was sleep, we spend 1/3 of our day doing it, write about it.

LOL. 1/3 of our day. snort. The prompter must not have small children. I am currently in the midst of trying to change my sleep patterns. When I got Jersey back from the new-old home, I decided I needed to rework my schedule to give him the best chance at being happy here. Not to mention I was only managing to yoga once every three days with my son’s current busy schedule. So away with spending the first two hours of my day drinking coffee and working on my novel and/or blog. Given my 7 – 730 wake up time that was a problem. So I need to roll it back. Today I was woken at 530 and rolled out of bed at 6. I get that isn’t an extreme wake up time but I am a night owl. I never want to sleep before midnight. Actually I took a melatonin last night so I could fall asleep by ten. And that’s my plan, melatonin until my body gets used to sleeping by ten and up at 530. Grand plan isn’t it. LOL. This means I can drink coffee and write until 7, walk the the dog and yoga before by 830 or 9. Get everything done by the time we have to leave the house or start home school depending on the day. The price for this miracle? Giving up all my alone time at night. I love my alone time at night. When the house is quiet and the world is black and comforting outside. I love the vague sensation I am the last human on the planet. Just me and my trusty dog curled up at my side.

But everything costs something and if I want my dog, my health, and my writing I have to pay the price.

Next fun prompt, “Be careful – No man that has gone in there has ever come back alive” “Good thing I’m not a man.” Thanks to Kristen P. You can check her out here. https://wordpress.com/read/blog/id/36299514/

In honor of said prompt a little snippet from my spy novel highlighting Galatea.

Talon and Galatea both nodded their assent. They checked their clips, their knives, and pulled masks down over their faces. A masked assailant always had a psychological advantage over an open one. The unknown was always more frightening than the known.
They slipped out of their fox hole and moved silently towards the house. Ideally Talon and Galatea would take the guards on patrol at the same time and at opposite apexes of their path. They split off from each other moving to where they had decided they should cover the wall. With a quick four step run up each planted a foot part way up the wall and used their momentum and an outward push with the planted foot to grab the top, pull up, and vault through and over with a noiseless landing.
Galatea slipped out one of her 12 inch throwing knives. It weighed less than a pound and felt like a feather in her hand as she adjusted her kneeling stance and prepared to let fly. The guard walked heavily and quickly, marking time rather than looking for actual intruders. She raised her throwing arm back and released halfway through the arc towards straight and parallel to the ground. She continued her arm’s swing to move her body forward into a three pointed crouch. When his body hit the ground she leapt forward into a low sprint and reclaimed her knife wiping the blood off onto his body and replacing the weapon gently in its sheath. She slipped around the cool mud exterior in the shadows of the many plants unwisely allowed to grow too close to the home. With excellent cover she moved to meet Talon.  

“Anyone caught discussing books would be executed in the marketplace”

No, this isn’t from some dystopian novel I’ve started writing. laughing. File that under things that will never happen. It’s from the establishment of the Chinese nation, quite some time ago. My son and I have been listening to Story of the World, Ancient History while driving around lately. It’s good for him, he is happier to do the History lesson when we get to it in my lesson plan if he’s heard the CD chapter a few times already.

It’s good for me too because I hear little things that I hadn’t before. I know I have a degree in history but my focus was on Wars of the Twentieth century. I did take some ancient, Africa and Rome. But all my other classes focused 1740 forward.

So this morning when the CD was explaining how China was united by a ruler named Chin (hence China) who overcame multiple other warlords and maintained his dynasty by severe rule, I heard this bit about book burning and discussing books being punishable by death. And it occurs to me there are so many ways I could have died if I had lived in another time.

I went through a whole phase where if you told me not to do something, I did it, just to see what would happen. Luckily I live in the United States and it was the nineties, so I got told things like don’t get that tattoo (I have three), don’t get that piercing (I’ve had 6), if you don’t go to college you’ll never get a job (ha and double ha), you’ll never make it as a writer (still proving that one wrong), etc etc etc

Even right now I have blue and purple hair. House wives shouldn’t have multi colored hair. Shrug. Kiss it.

Ok, maybe it wasn’t a phase as such but a way of life.

So you can imagine if I was told “Do not discuss books in public.”

There I am on my quickly nailed together box (no soap boxes back then), speaking persuasively in favor of books: of what you can learn, how they can change your life, that a populace that can read will never be truly oppressed…right up until they cut my head off with an ax.

So there my head is, staring up at you from the ground, asking what are you doing that everyone or even just one someone told you, you can’t, you shouldn’t, you won’t…..

Yesterday was amazing….

Not only did I get that blog post written while helping my son with his home school but I managed to edit two chapters in my spy novel. I haven’t worked on that in almost a month, woot. I would call that effective. To ice the whole cake, my son read me a book yesterday for the first time ever. Which means in three months of home school I taught him to read from a place where he did not even know most of his letters, let alone what sounds they made.

I also announced to my hubby that the thing that will have to give, since we got Jersey back, is the house. And he said. Ok honey.

hrm….good thing he’s not at all observant. LOL

My son read me a book. Giggle, bounce, gleeful little dance!

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.

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  spent 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.

That’s all I need, see how easy I am to please…

At the end of the day, as a mother, housewife, home schooler, soccer coach, therapist for a special needs five year old, and shoulder for my friends – all I really want is a little time to take care of what matters to me outside of my family.

oh, you didn’t know I was allowed to care about anything more than my kid? my husband? my home?

yeah, some days it feels like no one else knows it either. sometimes not even me.

Recently a family member announced he was flying up for the day. How nice, I guess. Except he picked Wednesday to fly in. Wednesday, the one day a week I get to escape for 3 hours to be the writer me, to recharge my inner self, most of the time anyway, assuming my sitter shows up and I don’t take my son to write in with me. But I digress.

I take care of everyone in my life, all day every day. And I do a damn good job. My house is clean, I cook gourmet meals most nights of the week, my kid has learned more in two months with me than he did in four months at school, he has play dates 3-5 times a week. Have six kids over all afternoon? Sure, this mom will always say yes.

I yoga daily, walk the dogs, and shower at least 5 times a week. (if you’re thinking ick, trust me I am a paragon of cleanliness in the home school world)  I won’t embarrass us all by going on.

So on the heels of this loss of a Wednesday, a loss of three hours of reestablishing my identity as a human being, I had to sign my son up for co-op classes for next year. There were really, really good classes on Friday morning. But Friday morning there is a write-in. One that I do not make currently because I take my son to the co-op for classes. What a choice to make: another 2 hour window of feeding my soul each week or my son’s education? I agonized for weeks about this. Plus the schedule wasn’t final for a while and I kept hoping some of those great Friday classes might migrate to Monday or later to Friday afternoon. It didn’t happen.

It was simple for my amazingly supportive  husband. “He’s in first grade, go to the write in.” I nodded my agreement but still I heard that little voice that says, to be a good mother you must give up everything for your child. That voice is right, when your child is a newborn, through say age two. Most moms have a second child which forces them to separate a little, to split their time and devotion. For others elementary school comes along and enforces separation. I have neither. So I must work a little harder at it.

I know there’s precious little humor in this post and even less about actually writing but today I feel like there must be more of you out there who struggle to balance that drive to write (or whatever your dream is) with the drive to care for those around you. You are not alone. My son will not go to co-op on Friday this upcoming year. If that makes me less of a mom, then I embrace that it makes me more of a human.

Tel me lies, tell me sweet little lies, tell me lies

I prefer the truth. Even when it hurts.

The truth is I have lost all momentum since I heard that ABNA is no more. It feels like I have all the time in the world now to finish editing this novel. Or at least until August when I need to wrap up so I can spend September and October researching for this year’s Nanowrimo. A deadline so far out in the future lends itself to slacking.  I have vastly been slacking.

On writing anyway. In the real world I have been as busy as a beaver in flood season. My son is now officially home schooled. I am thrilled. He is happy. This all makes the hubby happy. So things are good. Except I am still trying to get everything together. Everyday is a new adventure. I have no schedule to speak of yet. I’m still hammering it out slowly as I figure out how to juggle all the things I used to do plus 24/7 kiddo time and my new role as his primary educator.

I think I might have to adjust my commitment to this blog. Once a week I think now. Sorry folks but I will try to include more snippets from my novel to make up for it.

Wednesday at write in I only got through half a chapter before my laptop ran out of battery, oops. At least I managed to charge it for today. I’m at the Friday write in, trying to help my son do some school work while I write this blog and try to edit some more. It’s a good thing I’m female and genetically predisposed to multi tasking, I need it today.

But my eggs and bacon just got here. Til next time.