A green bow? Are you freaking kidding me?

Maybe when he feels less disgraced, he’ll pose for me, but he looks oh so cute!

Last night, the PTA hosted a Reflections award ceremony. The topic this year was WOW! There were four categories, literature, visual arts, music and photography. The ceremony was nice, albeit long. It was hard to hear the speaker announcing names, but J brought home two trophies. 3rd place in Visual Arts, he drew Sharks and 2nd place in Literature. He wrote about Shark week. Yes, the boy loves him some Shark’s.

We’re very proud of him. This is the second time he’s won an award for something he’s written. Oh, and he made the High Honor Roll for the second time this year. So proud of our little guy.

Today’s a writing day. I’m getting ready to open up word and write as much as I can. No editting. Just writing. Going to turn on the music, not answer the phone…you get the idea.

If you’ve ever read my blog in the past, you’ll know that I’m a huge fan of Grey’s Anatomy. At one point in my life, I would’ve given my first born child to be able to write the way the writer’s for Grey’s do. This season, not so much. I mean, I’m still baffled by the whole Denny/Izzie thing and while I loved them before he died, the fact remains that he died. I saw him dead. I had closure with Denny and Izzie after that. And I actually like Alex this season. Mer/Der have been boring. I love Lexie and Mark together and hope Mark realizes what he has and doesn’t blow it. I absolutely loved the interactions between Christina and Hunt. It’s sweet and yet very sexy at the same time. They’re innocently flirting with each other and it’s so sensual. He’s making love to her mind and to me, there’s nothing sexier. Last night was in my opinion a classic Grey’s.

However, last night I had to laugh hysterically on the inside. My fourteen-year-old daughter watches Grey’s with me. It’s our thing. So, what do you do when Grey’s has a patient who was apparently trying to spice up his love-life with his wife now that their children are off at college. The patient even had to reiterate what Ivy league schools his son were attending before they showed a magazine with obvious sex things in them. The man had something in his backside. Literally. Jokes ensued, the Chief with a straight face told his doctors and interns to knock it off and my daughter looked at me and said the words a lot of mom’s fear. “What are they talking about?”

I did what ever mom has to do from time to time.

 I. Lied. (* does her best Howie Mandel ‘Bobby’ voice*: Well what would you do?)

And then I said, “Shouldn’t you take your shower really quick?” I held my breath. And when she walked out of the room, I tried as silently as I could to :happy0194:

The best was when they did the colonoscopy, ( which I explained to her )you heard whatever it was clunk into the tray ( I told her I had no idea what clanked and I wasn’t lying. Does anyone know? He used the words spice up, but it was too loud to be a jalepeno.) and then Chief started talking about him bending over backwards to satisfy his wife. When they got out of surgery, and you’re watching them scrub up, all it takes is for Alex to say, “You said bend over backwards.” When the Chief was laughing so hard he was crying, so was I.

I think I figured out my problem. I’ve been trying way too hard to force words to come. So, I hereby give myself permission to write crap. Even though the saying goes, “You can’t polish a turd.” I think in this business you can. Nice analogy, I know.

In other news, taking GMa to her hair appointment today. She lost her taxi card or so she says. Today is also the anniversary of my Pap’s death. I don’t want to dwell on that and I know that’s all she’s going to talk about today. So, the sooner I get this over with, the better. I can’t believe he’s been gone for two years. Wow.

Anyhow…I’m off to write. 200 words is again the goal. I’m hoping to surpass that.

I’m going to admit something today, because admitting it is half the battle, right?

I haven’t written in so long. It’s embarrassing. I mean, this is what I want to do, right? I can’t make money or sell more books if I’m not writing.

No more excuses. I used to write into the wee hours of the night when the kids were little. I’d write to the blaring sound of the television, to the kids playing video games. I’d even write and chat with a small group of friends on a good day. I could multi-task. What happened?

Fear? Probably. I’m still waiting for someone to tell me that I suck. Stupid, I know. No one ever said that writer’s weren’t neurotic on some level.

Perfection? Okay, so I’ll never be perfect. Ever. It’s just not in my make-up. But I think I’m trying too hard to make the rough draft into the final draft. Ain’t happening.

I forgot how to escape real life. I had three people that I loved and adored die in three years. I’d get over one and lose another one and then I had to take care of my Grandma because I felt it was the right thing to do. I’m reclaiming my life. One day at a time. So why not reclaim my writing one word at a time?

I’m going to give it an honest effort today, no matter how intimidating the blinking cursor is. My motto for this week is one word at a time on the page. As long as I write 100 words each day, I’ll be happy. It’s time. Hopefully in a couple of months I can join the rest of my nail-chewing friends who are waiting to hear on submissions.

What about you? How do you get out of your slump? Any slump. You don’t have to be a writer.

My house is naked. Okay, so it feels naked without the Christmas decorations. Am I the only one who hates that? I miss the twinkling lights.

It’s been crappy for a couple of days now. Rain-sleet-rain and now snow. The snow I don’t mind as much, but it was still a stay in your bed kind of day. Plus, I think I screwed up this morning. I let Odee out the front door this morning instead of his usual out the back. I started the car, so he knew I was leaving to take Jaden to the bus stop. Usually he’ll go back into his bed in our room. This morning, he hid under the table between our couch and chair. When I went to get him out to put him in the kennel he growled at me and tried to nip. He went behind the couch, I went back there and the same thing. Usually, he lets me pick him up no problem. The more he did this, the angrier I got. I finally got him out by showing him his leash. I can’t leave him roam the house for the fifteen minutes max I’m gone because he chews on the trim. I’ve left him leashed in his bed, but he’s torn the covers, comforter off the bed and one day even deficated in our room. He got his nose smacked this morning, better than me getting bit. He’s snarled and growled at the boys when they’ve tried to pick him up. I love him, but not going to put up with that. I don’t want the kids getting bit.

So, yeah, not a good start to my day. How about yours?

Dear Santa,
I’ve been a good mom all year. I’ve fed, cleaned, and cuddled
my two children on demand, visited the doctor’s office more
than my doctor, sold sixty-two cases of candy bars to raise
money to plant a shade tree on the school playground and
figured out how to attach nine patches onto my daughter’s
girl scout sash with staples and a glue gun.

I was hoping you could spread my list out over several
Christmases, since I had to write this letter with my son’s
red crayon, on the back of a receipt in the laundry room
between cycles, and who knows when I’ll find anymore free
time in the next 18 years.

Here are my Christmas wishes:

I’d like a pair of legs that don’t ache after a day of chasing
kids (in any color, except purple, which I already have) and
arms that don’t flap in the breeze, but are strong enough to
carry a screaming toddler out of the candy aisle in the
grocery store. I’d also like a waist, since I lost mine
somewhere in the seventh month of my last pregnancy.

If you’re hauling big ticket items this year, I’d like a car
with fingerprint resistant windows and a radio that only
plays adult music; a television that doesn’t broadcast any
programs containing talking animals, and a refrigerator
with a secret compartment behind the crisper where I
can hide to talk on the phone.

On the practical side, I could use a talking daughter doll
that says, “Yes, Mommy” to boost my parental confidence,
along with one potty-trained toddler, two kids who don’t
fight, and three pairs of jeans that will zip all the way up
without the use of power tools. I could also use a
recording of Tibetan monks chanting, “Don’t eat in the
living room” and “Take your hands off your brother”,
because my voice seems to be just out of my children’s
hearing range and can only be heard by the dog.

And please don’t forget the Playdoh Travel Pak, the
hottest stocking stuffer this year for mothers of
preschoolers. It comes in three fluorescent colors and is
guaranteed to crumble on any carpet making the In-law’s
house seem just like mine.

If it’s too late to find any of these products, I’d settle for
enough time to brush my teeth and comb my hair in the
same morning, or the luxury of eating food warmer than
room temperature without it being served in a Styrofoam
container. If you don’t mind I could also use a few
Christmas miracles to brighten the holiday season.
Would it be too much trouble to declare ketchup a
vegetable? It will clear my conscience immensely.

It would be helpful if you could coerce my children to help
around the house without demanding payment as if they
were the bosses of an organized crime family; or if my
toddler didn’t look so cute sneaking downstairs to eat
contraband ice cream in his pajamas at midnight.

Well, Santa, the buzzer on the dryer is ringing and my
son saw my feet under the laundry room door. I think he
wants his crayon back.

Have a safe trip and remember to leave your wet boots by
the chimney and come in and dry off by the fire so you
don’t catch cold. Help yourself to cookies on the table, but
don’t eat too many or leave crumbs on the carpet.

Yours always…..
Mom

PS: One more thing…you can cancel all my requests if
you can keep my children young enough to believe in
Santa.

We’ve been at this hospital for 4 hours now. My two youngest children are with me and they’ve been . My Grandma just went into surgery about ten minutes ago. How ridiculous is this? It also took me about that long to figure out how to use the hospital’s wifi. She’s having a minor surgery to clean up the nerves around her spine–the sciatic. I’ll update when I know anything more.

Update:
The doctor made a tiny incision, cleaned up the nerve and sent her to recovery. We finally saw her after five. She was extremely feisty, wanting her pain medicine. She was going to punch the anesthesiologist in the face because he had to do more than one IV. Of course, it’s all his fault that she’s almost 83 and has bad veins. She was demanding pain medicine, and wanting to know if the nurse had to go to another state to get it. At 9pm when I called her to tell her I was home, it was 20 questions. At 10:30pm she was looking for her hearing aids and was complaining that the morphine wasn’t doing a damned thing for her pain and she couldn’t sleep. So, yes, Bubba, she was acting like McSquizzy.