Breakfast nook

I think I have swept the floor five or six times today. I don't do a very good job of sweeping (clearly) because all I can see every time I walk from the kitchen to the dining room are bits of muffin, goldfish, and teeny tiny grains of sand or sugar or flakes of our skin constantly being sloughed off as we shuttle back and forth from the kitchen to the dining room.

The kitchen-dining room thoroughfare is a well travelled area in our house. It is home to the computer from which I am writing to you currently, and to the playroom. What we call the "playroom," is really a small space off the kitchen that most people would refer to as a "breakfast nook."

The people who lived here before us were a young, childless couple. When we looked at the place to see if we wanted to rent it, it was incredibly neat and utterly without clutter. I remember their dining room table was set for two, complete with cloth napkins folded up fancily on top of the plates. They did not appear to be preparing a meal, so we had to assume that they lived their lives in such an orderly, showroom floor kind of way. The breakfast nook was completely empty, save for a large barbell and set of weights on the floor. "You can use this room for your weights," the guy told Brandon. Uh huh. We both knew what was going in that nook and it wasn't Brandon's weights. Our idea of a nook and their idea of a nook were two very different things.

Upstairs, in what is currently Teddy's room, the couple each had a desk in front of the two windows. Presumably they sat up there working quietly side-by-side, looking out the window when they lacked inspiration. It's strange that Teddy looks out on the same view when I'm changing his diaper as the previous tenants did when they were typing away on their his and hers computers.

The room that is now Charlie and Emma's room was some sort of meditation room. It housed an odd contraption that was either for praying in strange positions or maybe it was some kind of ancient pilates machine? I can't even really explain it. I just remember it was this weird, sort of gothic wooden contraption and there were candles. It's hard to imagine Charlie and Emma's cheerful room, currently cluttered with dinosaurs, astronauts and butterflies, as the site of such flammable, mystical spiritual practices.

Somehow, I doubt the people who lived here before us had to sweep the floor nearly as much as I do. I am sure if they ate goldfish crackers, they managed to keep them neatly contained either in their mouths or on their plate rather than crunching them messily with their bared teeth or under their crocs as they walked across the room.

Brandon is welcome to keep his weights in our breakfast nook at any time. He will just have to prop them against the wall, somewhere between Emma's sewing machine and Charlie's firetruck.


We live about 85% of our lives in our breakfast nook. It is a very efficient little nook. I do get annoyed with the toy clutter and with the goldfish/Cheerio dust I am constantly wading through. But the truth is I wouldn't trade it for anything.* It's a small price to pay for a life and a house lived to the fullest.

Okay, break's over. The floor's not going to sweep itself and the breakfast nook looks like a tornado hit it.

*Except for maybe a large, finished, walk-out basement with built-ins and a half-bath, not that I've given it that much thought.

Snow Day

My kids have been playing together all day. A funky, folk version of "Amazing Grace" is playing in the background while the snow falls like feathers outside. There is a gingerbread house waiting to be decorated on the dining room table, two little Christmas trees waiting to be trimmed later tonight. Colored Christmas lights frame the playroom window, giving things a warm, cozy glow. The baby has been napping and napping and napping to his heart's content. My family, the people who love me and whom I love most in the world, are so close to me I am literally tripping over them. Outside, a tree branch is so loaded down with luscious wet snow, that it bends from the weight of it.

The hundred or so square feet surrounding me is a complete disaster area. There are hot wheels play sets scattered around, along with bulldozers and blocks. Bitty twins clothing is strewn about in the style of a messy college roommate. I feel stressed about the lack of Christmas shopping I have done. I am annoyed with my skin and the weird, post-pregnancy short hairs I have to deal with when doing my hair. I am dissatisfied with the wardrobe choices currently available in my closet. There are emails to return. Bills to pay. Phone calls to make. I wonder if I will ever be the kind of person who gets regular manicures and pedicures. I need to exercise. Will anyone ever read my novel who isn't my friend or related to me? Will anyone pay me for my work? Why do I reserve the sweetest version of myself for strangers? Why can't I just accept the fact that everyone leaves their shoes and socks in the living room and move on?

These are the two versions of my life. I wish I could live in the former, but I spend so much time dwelling in the latter. I love how the snow covers over everything. Even cars and ugly buildings aren't immune to its magic. I'm hoping I'm not either.

What we've been up to lately

Well, I did it. I wrote a novel. Fireworks didn't go off quite like I expected them too when I finally came to the end. I guess that's because I'm not really done, done. I have lots of editing to do. I changed the setting of the story like three times. I killed a character off and then decided that was a mistake and brought him back to life. There are some red herrings that seem like maybe they should be important but then go nowhere. So, I definitely still have lots of work to do. I haven't cracked open the champagne just yet. But, I'm pretty proud that I've got about 300 pages of material to work with. It's definitely a good feeling.

I'm not even sure what to write this blog post about. It has been too long. There's too much to catch you up on. Not, that are lives have been that eventful, but the little mundane details that I usually like to write about have piled up on me and it's hard to focus on the ones I want to tell about. Maybe I'll just go person by person and try to sum everyone up, Christmas newsletter style (minus all the bragging).

Charlie:

Charlie is becoming more intense in his Charlie-ness. He is passionate about Magic School Bus and the commercials that accompany Magic School Bus. He can quote you verbatim the ad copy for Nationwide Insurance, Pillow Pets and these magic hanger things I can't remember the name of right now. He is the #1 target audience for anyone selling anything on TV. Trying to get rid of some extra Snuggies or looking to buy other people's gold so you can turn it into cash? Charlie's your guy. Charlie does that frustrating guy thing where he totally tunes you out when you're talking to him. You'll ask him a question and he'll wait like 5 seconds and then say, "what?" He also does the guy thing where he leaves his socks in the living room. He loves his big sister more than anything. Sometimes I can hear him calling out for reassurance from her at night when they are both supposed to be sleeping in their bunk beds. "Emma?" he'll say. "Emma??" I can't hear what she says back, but whatever it is, it seems to do the trick.

Emma:

Emma is rapidly becoming a big kid. She has this tone in her voice when we pick her up from school that is a combination of patience and condescension. We'll be like, "hey, Emma, while you were at school, Charlie and Teddy and I went to the bookstore to play with the train table." And Emma will be like, "Oh really? That must have been nice for you." It's as though she's trying for our sake to remember a simpler time in her own life when something so childish would've been appealing to her. For Christmas this year she really hasn't mentioned wanting any toys. Well, she did mention wanting a Barbie the other night. I'm just not sure I can pull the trigger on that one, though. She says she wants "fashion" clothes and books and a DS. I can't believe we are already moving into this phase of life with her. My own life is flashing before my eyes. She still loves to draw and make things. Every night before she goes to sleep she pulls out this Hello Kitty journal she keeps next to her bed and a black crayon she keeps in her music box and writes in her journal. Here are some excerpts from her journal: "TOWSDAY SSTAE HOME...WNSDAE PLMR." Amazing how innate the urge to document our own lives is.

Teddy:

Teddy is rapidly becoming quite the live wire. As I write this, he is banging my glass mixing bowls on the floor of the kitchen. Probably should go do something about that....okay, I'm back. Teddy's turn-ons are playing with the recycling, Splenda packets, hairspray bottles and glass mixing bowls. His turn-offs are being spoon-fed, eggs, and baby toys. He is walking up a storm now. He toddles around with his arms out in front of him like a zombie, a cute, smiling zombie.
His favorite thing is to take any container and see what things will fit inside of it. Right now he's walking around with a plastic cup with a tiny basketball inside of it. He lives for stuff like that--that and throwing non-trash items away in the trash. We are all deeply in love with him and don't even mind so much when throws our valuables away.

Well, I think that is about all I have in me this morning. I keep having to stop writing to make sure Teddy's not throwing things in the trash or the toilet. Thanks for reading this! Hopefully I will be a more frequent blogger this month. I'm going to try!

Woo hoo!

I did it!

I signed up for National Novel Writing Month! Eeek! 50,000 words in one month. More words than I have ever written on any single project before in my life. Eeek! I'm going to be a busy girl this month so the dishes may not get done in a timely manner, the laundry put away or the kids perfectly coiffed. Oh wait, that's how it normally is around here. This month I will have a good excuse!

I will probably be MIA for the month of November, but I'll try to at least update you on my progress.

Looks like those homemade Christmas presents I was hoping to make will have to wait until next year. I can hear my many family members breathing sighs of relief all the way in Virginia. Next year you guys are totally getting crocheted wallets or something equally awesome and homemade. This year, it isn't going to happen.

Is anyone else planning on writing a novel this month? If so, "friend" me on the nanowrimo website. My user name is "elizabethmc."

Have a great November!
Love,
Elizabeth

What time is it?

I should be doing so many other things, but I really just want to write to you, dear reader. I foolishly thought that the kids going back to school would mean that I would be a lady of leisure, cruising around in my minivan looking for things to keep me busy while the children learned things and the baby napped peacefully. I do a lot of driving in the minivan, but it is not what one would call leisurely. First I drop off Emma at school, then Charlie gets dropped off next door at his preschool 20 minutes later. By the time Charlie is out of the car, it's a mad dash to race home, feed the baby, get him to sleep, and then conquer something on the To Do list before having to wake up the baby and go get Charlie again. Here's my current To Do list:

1. Pick up pictures at Walgreens
2. Make ghost costume
3. Make Halloween cookies for Emma's school picnic today
   
4. Make "Harvest Moon" mac and cheese for picnic
5. Do laundry (when is this not on the list?)
   
6. Finish shopping for Teddy's b-day presents
7. Return & renew library books
8. Finish Teddy's baby book (only eleven more months to go!)
9. Write novel (only 200 more pages to go!)
   
10. Knit robot
11. Make "super baby" costume for Teddy
    
12. Make pumpkin muffins for Charlie's Halloween party
13. Get Teddy's one-year portrait made
14. Make cake for Teddy's b-day
    

Ahhhg!!! This list is stressing me out. Clearly knitting the robot can wait. But everything else is sort of time sensitive. Gone are the days when I could look up at the sky and guess cowboy-style what time it is. Now, I feel like I live by the clock...ten minutes until Emma needs to be at school...one hour until I pick up Charlie...five more minutes and I have to wake up Teddy from his nap so we can wait at the bus stop.

Mommy confession time: A few weeks ago I wasn't at the bus stop in time to pick up Emma. I thought I had left at the same time I normally do. I must've lingered a little longer helping Charlie with his shoes or getting Teddy into the stroller. We were also foiled by finding trash billowing around our street due to tipped over trash cans. Charlie and I stopped to pick up the trash, and I was feeling all superior, like we were the neighborhood heroes. I may have even said, "Look at us, Charlie. We're the neighborhood heroes." What an idiot. While we were picking up garbage, Emma was riding the bus all the way back to school where she would have to wait in the principal's office for me to come get her. She said that when she saw I wasn't there to get her, she just told herself "it's going to be okay...it's going to be okay..." over and over again. She said she still cried a little despite her best effort to hold it in. Who's the hero now? But then she said she had fun waiting in the principal's office, so I felt a little less horrible when I heard that. The crazy thing is, I had no idea I was even late for the bus. Charlie and I were outside playing soccer looking for the bus to come. We didn't realize we had missed it until Brandon came running out of his office building, yelling for me to go to school to get Emma. (Yet another reason it's a good thing he works across the street from our house.) The principal's office had called him when they couldn't reach me at home or on my cell phone, which was conveniently located in my purse on the kitchen table. Stupid billowing trash. Clearly my lateness has nothing to do with the fact that I always forget to wear my watch, and has everything to do with the trash. I think it's safe to say I will not be winning mother of the year this year. Maybe that's why I'm over-compensating with the Harvest Moon mac and cheese and hand-knit robot?

I have five more minutes and then I have to get ready to pick up Charlie from preschool. We'll have a few hours to hang out and make Halloween cookies and watch Magic School Bus and then it will be time to go outside and play soccer while waiting for Emma's bus. Then we'll have an hour until we have to bundle up the baby, cookies, and the mac and cheese to go to Emma's Halloween picnic. Then it will be bath time and bedtime. At that point I will probably look around at my piles of laundry and dirty dishes and wonder why I couldn't manage to accomplish anything today.

The truth is I'm getting sort of resentful of all the cookie/muffin/mac n cheese making that having children seems to require. I love doing this stuff, but it is sort of taking over my life and I feel like my novel is going to die a slow death, quietly being suffocated by a giant casserole of mac n cheese.

I know scrapbooking is probably not as pressing a To Do List item as it might seem. However, I feel compelled to finish Teddy's scrapbook because I made baby scrapbooks for the other two children and I don't want him to feel shafted. I feel like if I don't make the scrapbook by his one-year b-day, which is on Friday, then it will never get done. Sort of like the thank you notes from Emma's birthday that are languishing on a bookshelf in the playroom. I still haven't showered and it's already time to pick up Charlie from school. I don't feel like I'm managing my time well. Should showering be at the top of the To Do List? Is laundry more important than Halloween costumes? What is the statute of limitations on a thank you note? I feel like I need to let something go....what should it be?

I am thinking about signing up for National Novel Writing Month in November. I'm hoping that doing something crazy like this for one month will force me to put the novel writing front and center and push the mac and cheese making to the back burner (pun, sadly, intended). Signing up for National Novel Writing Month, or NaNoWriMo as it is called by us nerds, basically means that you promise to write 50,000 words (or roughly 200 pages) in one month. Gulp. That comes out to about 6 or 7 pages a day. That will be a HUGE commitment. Would signing up help me get my priorities in check or would it just be yet another thing to feel guilty for not doing? That is not a rhetorical question. Please tell me what you think I should do!

Thanks for listening! Now to make some sugar cookie ghosts and pumpkins with Charlie...

Pennsylvania!

If you ask me anything right now I'm likely to say "yes" just so you'll go away. "Mommy, can I have a vanilla milk box?" The Horizon ones that cost like a buck per ounce and are reserved for lunch boxes only? "Sure." "Mommy, can I have chocolate?" "Yep." "Mommy, can I watch Magic School Bus on the white couch with my wet muddy rain boots on?" "You betcha."

It's Friday afternoon and I am worn out. My day of driving people to and fro in the 41 degree, raining nastiness is almost over and I can practically taste the glass of red wine I will be pouring later this afternoon, I mean tonight. I just got home from teaching "Intro to Architecture" to Emma's kindergarten class. My throat is sore from yelling architecture at everyone.

It is amazing how tangential the kindergarten brain is. I held up a poster of Dulles Airport and said, "Dulles Airport is an example of modern architecture." And a little girl raised her hand and said earnestly, "um...um....one time....um....one time...my dad was going to Dallas...." And then dozens of other hands shot up as her comment triggered a kindergarten thought cloud of Dulles airport related comments. "My cousin lives in Pittsburgh," said another little girl. "Great," I said. "I guess you must have flown to Pittsburgh to visit her?" "No, we drove." And this would pertain to Dulles airport how exactly? It would've been hilarious, except no one was laughing and the crowd was getting feistier by the minute.

The next poster I held up after Dulles Airport was of the Washington Monument. I asked if anyone knew what this building was. One little boy's hand shot up before anyone else's. If anyone knew the answer it appeared to be him. "Pennsylvania!" He said with total confidence. Uh...no....not even close, guy. Maybe this was some continuation of the Pittsburgh comment? Ay yi yi.

Do you think they got the difference between Doric and Ionic columns? Has anyone ever remembered the difference five minutes after anyone has explained it to them?

I was not meant to teach little children things. I think my own little children have learned things by osmosis, but I'm not the type to sit them down and teach them things like Doric and Ionic columns and about Dulles airport. Even Teddy has already suffered the consequences of my lack of ability to transfer knowledge to young people. People keep asking him to high-five. For some reason everyone expects an almost-one-year-old to be able to high-five. When Teddy disses people, leaving their hand hanging there in the air, I am the one that feels like the loser. Why haven't I taught Teddy to high-five? What's wrong with me? Teddy can do all sorts of other things, but high-fiving has slipped through the cracks somehow.

Lately, I've been trying to teach Emma (and myself) how to draw. I bought this book and it is proving a very useful tool. Here are some of our first drawings:

My shorty horse

Emma's bird

We had signed up for a parent/child drawing class, but it was pretty lame. We went to the first class and I made the executive decision not to continue and just to do our own drawing class at home. So far, so good. And the twelve bucks I spent on the book certainly beats the $95 the class was charging. Plus, now I no longer have the bother of trying to figure out childcare at 5:15 on Wednesdays. Emma and I can do our class any time we want.

Maybe I need to buy a book about how to teach Teddy to high-five?

I have been enjoying the drawing book because I love the way it makes you look at the world around you. Basically, the book teaches you to look for the "five basic elements of shape" in everything you are trying to draw. The five basic elements of shape are: dots, circles, straight lines, curved lines, and angled lines. First you practice drawing these five elements, then you draw pictures that combine all the elements. When you break a picture of a horse into dots, circles and lines, it makes it seem so much simpler. You're not drawing a snout, or whatever you call a horse's nose, you're just drawing a curved line.

It's amazing how you can trick your brain into drawing something that you never would've thought you could draw. I see so many parallels to this in writing. Like, let's say I'm trying to write a scene where a little girl discovers for the first time she was adopted. My brain would typically want to write this scene very straight-forwardly. I might have the girl walk in her parents' bedroom, discover a letter lying on the floor, read the contents of the letter which conveniently details the specifics of her adoption, maybe the girl drops the letter in disbelief and runs crying from the room. Anyone could write that scene. Anyone's dog could write that scene. It's the most obvious, trite, boring way to imagine that particular moment in someone's life. But if you trick your brain, if you tell your brain that you're not writing about a revelatory, huge moment in someone's life, but instead you're writing about a swimming lesson they took once, the one where everyone was jumping into the water and swimming towards the instructor, everyone except your character. Maybe you tell your brain that that's all it has to write. No big life-changing revelations have to take place, brain, only swimming (or not swimming as the case may be). Tell what the bathing suits looked like. Were the children's eyes stretched into ellipses behind their goggles? Were the bathing suits saggy? Did belly buttons show through their one-piece suits? These are the writing equivalents of the five elements of shape. Pretty soon your brain will sneak in a revelation without you even telling it to. And the scene will feel truer and less like a dog wrote it than if you had tried to write straight on. And that's pretty much the goal of any writer: writing stuff that is true and doesn't sound like a dog wrote it.

Signing off for now....here's a quick writing exercise before I go:

Write anything you want, just make sure it includes the line "and then there was a knock at the door." Write for 15 minutes or until Magic School Bus is over.