Saturday, January 22, 2011

The Professor....

I've been in a slump for a week. I keep thinking, I want to blog and then I realize I have nothing to say. I've been editing. 

We've had a round of ear infections for G-man and pink eye for J-man. 
Attitude from the girls.
And a lack of interest in fighting from the mommy.

That's really culminated in a deep appreciation for the Professor. 

It iced and snowed here on Thursday. He went to work in the ice and came home early. While the roads were clear - he sent me to the store to find a coat for J-man. (Another blog for another time.) 

He decided to stay home on Friday because his work is not very good to him - and there was ice on the ground - and I was taking G-man to the doctor for his ear recheck.

Score for him. I didn't have to take the other 3 to the doctor. They stayed home and endured The Professor's insistance for school work. 

He can be my hero at times.

Which, you'll want to know, is a very good thing. Early in our marriage, I didn' think we'd last. He never doubted it. I did. 

I'm editing my novel, getting it ready for submission. It's tough going back over something you thought you'd gotten finished. The writer is as much a perfectionist as the painter. It can be rather tedious to go over sentences you've gone over before and over and over - there's only so much tweaking a sentence can take. 

While I'm editing, I struggle with the whole thing. I'm not looking at the story, itself. I'm looking at the words. Each letter. Each period. Like looking at your skin through a microscope. All those cells make up a pretty nifty 'thing'. But under a microscope, it doesn't look like an entire thing - it looks like tiny bits. 

So I'm looking at these tiny bits of my novel and thinking - ... it sucks. 

But I continue on because, The Professor has told me, "You've got a pretty good story there." It's only pretty good, because it's not his thing. But he can't tell me what his thing is, so I can't fix it. 

But I'll cling to what he's given me. and I edit. 

He does dishes so I can focus on teaching.
He goes grocery shopping because it's peaceful to him - and NOT to me. (He can also stay under budget) 
He will cycle laundry through the machines.
He spoils me.

On Facebook, they've got this new feature where you can put your 'work experience' on your profile. I put in "writer" because that's what I'm working on. 

Some women, I've noticed, put their husbands down as their employers. 
I understand the authority structure, as God has outlined it and as I understand it - but I won't put down my husband as my employer. 

I work WITH him.
not FOR him.

Big difference. 
If I worked FOR him - I'd probably resent him. 
Being  mommy is often not a happy thing. Fights, attitudes, poop, animals, children, vomit, dishes, laundry, fights, food, fights, snow boots that can't be found, fights .... 

I'm glad that I work WITH him in being a parent.

I'm so glad that he supports me in writing and listens to the mommy when I struggle. 

I'm glad I work with him.

Thursday, January 13, 2011

It's cold outside...

I'm not going to sing to you. Though I could. I occasionally sound good, too. 
Singing or not - It's COLD outside. 

Normally that doesn't matter. I can run out, take the trash to the curb, come back and be fine. but it's COLD!!!! Like -- we were warmer than Anchorage on Wednesday -- cold. 

So I've been thinking that I could really go for some shoes I can just slip my feet into when I need to walk out to the curb. 

Then I remember that Mini-Me and J-man need boots. Then I think we'll just all go to the store. And then I realize that we can't go right THEN and ... I eventually .... forget.

Until the next time. 
It's annoying to have to put my shoes on, tie the laces just to walk 10 feet to the mail box. I'm normally barefoot.


I'm not normally this shallow.
 It's just the annoyance factor of it. It's COLD.

So. I was going to bite the nip outside and take the trash to the curb barefoot. 
Trash in hand, I head toward the door. And stop. G-man's snow boots are right there.


They look like they. might. just. work. 

I angle my foot next to the boot. Sure enough. They're long enough. 

I give it the ol' college, save my toes from freezing try and slide my foot in the top.

It slides right in. 


I LAUGH!!! My 10 year old has snow boots that fit me.

Mini-Me and I wear the same size shoe. 

Now G-man. 

Of course, he wanted to see. So we put our feet together. Yep. They're the same length.

If kids were like dogs - and having to grow into their feet, I'd be in trouble.
As it is - I've got a 10 year old and and 12 year old who can both wear my shoes.

I'm going to be the short one in the family. 

I'm okay with it.

They can clean the cobwebs. And I get to borrow their boots to walk to the curb.

Do they have to?

Sometimes, I wonder why I teach the kids to think for themselves??

Sometimes, I can tell them something and they receive it at face value. I mean, it's not like I steer them wrong.
I give them an honest answer to the questions they ask.
Sarcasm may or may not be involved at times.
But this whole thinking for themselves thing??

Is it really important?? I mean, other than when they vote.

Or buy a car.

Or shoes.

Okay. So it's important.

Today three children were whining. I started to get onto them and then tried to wrap it all up with humor.

It went something like this:

Come On Guys!! Stop the whining!!
It's just .... You're going to make me start whining.
I hate whining. It makes me sound like such a baby (baby in my case meant wuss)....

Mini-Me sitting next to me said, "Isn't that kind of the point?"

I guess if I'm going to keep up with these thinking children, I'm going to have to stay on my toes.

but not literally.

Tuesday, January 11, 2011


Edited for more cohesiveness because One should never blog and watch Phineas and Ferb at the same time. It's just not a good, workable combo.

I've been battling fatigue. That's about the only way I can categorize it. I just couldn't seem to get enough sleep and when I did sleep - I was having some wackadoodle dreams. I'm fairly certain I understand the meaning of the dreams - except the one I had last night.

I mean - you watch too many episodes of Hogan's Heroes and you're bound to dream that you're a prisoner in a POW camp trying to get out. BUT when you add a brother into the dream as a traitor, you probably have issues. 

I'm working on it.

I'm also working on not saying, "I'm really tired of the whining..."

Because - you know - I might have actually confessed that over myself.
Still...sleepless nights do not a cohesive mommy make.

Because I haven't been in a write-y sort of mood, I've been wondering what I should write about. You know, as opposed to actually writing it.

Getting the house back to normal hasn't been the fastest after our foray into Christmas. (That being tired thing slows life down quite a bit.) Feeling like I needed to tackle some tasks, I decided to tackle several loads of laundry and the mess that had become my room.

So I announced to the kids, "I'm going to go clean mommy and daddy's room." Mini-E said, "Good luck, Mom. Have fun. See you later."

I laughed the hardest at the "good luck."

As I picked up random socks that have managed to slink under the bed, all the blankets and pillows I did some thinking. What I was doing was cleaning up the mess that happens when the kids play the wii. The end of our bed makes the perfect place for them to sit and play - and the bedding ends up in the floor.

If I made the bed when I got up in the morning, it wouldn't happen. This mess. But I don't like to make my bed. I like it just like I left it. But If I don't make it then the kids mess it up and ...*sigh* It's a catch-22. 

As I was making the bed, I was thinking toward the future. I don't want to go backward to the way things used to be. A bunch of little steps have turned into an interesting journey. But when you're making the little steps, you don't see how far they are actually taking you.

So I considered how much we survived 2011 and I realized:

There is much I want out of 2011. 
For instance:

I want The Professor to have a job where his talents and his skills are appreciated and celebrated - and not squashed, ignored and even frowned upon. 

I want to stop the emotional wars that can seem to come and go, to finally go and stay. It will happen because emotions are unsanctified; but they won't stay that way. 

I want Jack Oy the cat fish to go in and out without injury.
I want there to be joy in the house instead of fights and struggles. (That one may take us longer than the time of 2011)

I really want that agent. If for no other reason than to show myself that I'm not wasting my time. (I have missed sooooo much TV that it's become easier to tell people, "I don't watch TV" than explain to them, "I've made the choice and writing has won.")

Then there are the things that I expect out of 2011.

I expect to move. There. I said it. I'm expecting a move to happen this year. It's going to be a major trust issue with God because I've lived in this particular area forEVER and thinking about moving makes me a little bit uneasy.

I expect to see God move. (ha. Pun.) I expect God to show Himself mighty. Not just bits and pieces here and there...but mighty.

I expect to come out of this last season even stronger than I was going in. 

I expect to be able to walk in confidence but not pride. 

I expect the Professor to get that job. 

2011 is full of lots of days where there is new mercy and new adventures. I want to the ability to enjoy it.

As I was thinking of what I wanted out of 2011, I got to thinking about you. 

What do you want out of 2011?

Saturday, January 1, 2011

By 40...

It's a new year. I can't believe it...I'm so thrilled.
I didn't like 2010 very much. The brightest part was welcoming a sister-in-law into the family. That was so much fun to be a part of. 

In looking to the future, I am struck again by my age. I'm 37...specifically....37.5. 

So on my birthday in June. ... specifically, June 1.

I'll be 38. 

If anyone in this family is going to have a mid-life crisis, it would be me that would break down and buy the sports car. The only thing holding me back is the fact that I could not take 4 children with me anywhere...and that's just not possible right now.

I think I've told you before that I believe my brain is about 24 years old. So it doesn't quite compute that I'm going to be 38. It doesn't compute that I'm .... not 24. 

I tend to pout about it.

God tells me that He doesn't care about age - He is ageless. 

Sometimes I forget that.

Instead of pouting. I'm getting proactive. Not about aging...but about enjoying the time. 

Linda had a 40 by 40 list. I enjoyed reading her journey to get to her goals. I considered starting my list then...but didn't do it. Other than that whole, "Get fit". That was it..and so far, I'm failing that one. 

Then I read Jon Acuff's list. After reading his list, and remembering Linda's list, I realized that I needed to really get busy with mine. I still don't have 40 items. I may never have 40 items on my list.

That's okay, too. I can be a nonconformist. 

While I am a dreamer, I want to be realistic with my time and the season we're in with the children. 

So I'm going to make a list and put it over there *points* to the sidebar. 

I'll either add to it or I won't... depending on how I think things through. Thinking in circles, I might come up with something absolutely off the wall that would never happen. Like Ride an elephant.

Along with the number of items, I'm not too anal to say that it all has to happen by the time I turn 40. Before I turn 41 would be nice, though. 

I  have people rooting for me on some of these items.
The Prof has said that if I remind him, I can have a limo ride sometime next Christmas. (maybe)

I need all the support I can get.

By the time I turn 41, I may own a sports car.