Thursday, January 27, 2011

Who Needs Sleep

Last night babygirl, who is really toddlergirl and Old Enough to Know Better, woke us all up at 4:30. Wait, back up. First, she spent twenty minutes trying to convince us something was wrong at 12:30, but we'd barely been asleep so it didn't count as much. Ahem. Back to 4:30. She woke up. Wet through. Crap. Changed her, brought her to bed with me (hey! Do YOU want to change sheets on a crib at 4:30?? Didn't think so). After twenty minutes, hubby was fed up, decided to change sheets himself. I helped (note: a million times easier with two people). Tucked babygirl in, and she went to sleep.

Did I?

funny graphs - I Always Start at 525,600 Minutes
see more Funny Graphs

Also note: she woke back up around 6:30 to put me out of my misery. Funnily enough (it IS a word, dang it) I had no difficulty falling asleep for ten minutes while she watched Dora, or when I switched with my husband, or on anything resembling a soft horizontal surface up until about nine am.

I am not really a night or morning person. More of a sleep person, really.

Wednesday, January 26, 2011

Attempt Two

Confession: I wrote a whole big blog post earlier, but when I re-read it I recognized it was a big pile of nonsense. Really. I made NO sense. I shall attempt to do better this time.

Let me tell you about my day. No. Let me summarize:

  • 4,298: the number of times the twins came running to me, screaming "MOM" at the top of their lungs, while babygirl was sleeping on my lap.
  • 3: number of baths I gave. This is misleading. It was sort of one big bath, but in stages, with different participants.
  • 2: number if different lunches I prepared (this is pretty good for me)
  • 0: number of bites babygirl took of any food I attempted to give her. She survives on whole milk and kisses today.
  • 110: fights I broke up
  • 20: minutes the twins managed to stay out of my sight during quiet time
  • 0 words I've written on the good ole WIP.
I could go on, but I think you get the point. Some days are more productive than others. Can I also say being a mom is perhaps the most un-glamorous thing you can do? Seriously. It starts with you half-naked on a table,  fluids gushing and lots of strangers weaving around, and I'm telling you folks, it doesn't get a whole lot prettier after that.


Babygirl always squeezes me so tight when she wakes up. She snuggles right in and won't let go. And the boys? If I'd managed to write down half their funny stuff today you wouldn't be reading such a boring post. 
And now: kids in bed. Things are quiet. Its me and the computer.

Let's all just hope I've got enough brain juice left to make something happen.

Monday, January 24, 2011


Stephanie Writes is giving away a KINDLE on her blog.

I know.

You should enter.

I did.

Also because she's very cool and worth following. Yup. It's true.

(contest ends Feb 6th so you've got time...)

Thursday, January 20, 2011

Other People's Kids

I love kids.

Okay, perhaps a caveat. I love my kids. In a general way, sure, I love all kids. I totally tear up every time I see one of those soldier-comes-home-to-surprise-kids videos. (Oh fine. Can't resist):

I'll give you a moment.


Sometimes, when what you think you're getting is cuddles and rainbows you end up with this:

I think it comes down to expectations. When I'm with my kids, I know them, they know me, we've got a groove going. If someone freaks out and throws a temper tantrum, I know they're out of control and they know I won't put up with it. We understand each other. When it isn't my kid though, I've got no idea what behavior is normal or not. Should I ignore it? Should I cut it off? It can get kind of uncomfortable. Routine for me might be wildly harsh for another parent.

Note: I'm not super harsh. But we've got rules. My kids have worn bum grooves in the time-out spot.

This happens with books too. You pick up a book with some guy on the front, bending his lady friend in an almost unbelievable back-bend, and you think you know what you're getting. "Aha!" you might think, "mushy, cheeseball and probably a bit smexy." Then you either put it down with a shudder or giddily tuck it into your bag.

So if, for instance, in the middle of said book you run across a stray alien invasion, and suddenly the romance plot is waylaid by the immediate need to save the earth, well you might be a bit put off.

A year or so ago the hubs and I (still seeking an excellent nickname for him) were watching Eagle Eye. If you missed it, I'm not surprised. All in all, I think it was pretty okay. At least, I was intrigued and entertained for much of it. But then, at the pivotal moment, it pulled off its disguised and revealed itself to be a traditional sci-fi thriller al la iRobot, but without Will Smith.

Nothing wrong with that, its just I'd thought it was more of a big brother, this-could-be-reality type movie. The distinction was maybe slight, but as a viewer, I felt gypped.

Let's tie all this rambling together, shall we? Don't confuse your audience. Don't promise them one thing, then pull the old switcheroo. Surprise is good though, right? Of course! Turn expectations on their head! Make new genres! Fight the good fight!

Don't just substitute one cliche for another, or think you've got a new concept when you're just trying to rebrand an old one.

I'm sorta guilty of this, I think. Its hard to be completely fresh and original. Still. Even if what you've got is derivative drivel, own it. Be proud of your work, but label it what it is.

Monday, January 17, 2011


In random today, here's another list of five unrelated things about me and the world in general:
  • Babygirl is finally behaving at the gym's daycare. At least, mostly behaving. So as I type this, I'm rather sore. It has always seemed to me that soreness should equal skinniness. Sadly, one good workout doesn't exactly produce visible results. Also, I used to be able to run a few miles without too much trauma (I never claimed to be an athlete) but now I'm lucky to make it past the three-minute mark. Sadly out of shape. 
  • I've seen all the Toy Story movies enough that, should I desire it, I could probably quote them all verbatim. Even the third. I am not proud of this, (well, maybe a little). I am happy Toy Story 3 won the golden globe last night.
  • Speaking of the golden globes...I'm sorta feeling they've lost credibility. Both Burlesque and The Tourist were nominated this year. And not in categories like score (although maybe Burlesque was there too) where you can justify a truly bad movie getting an award. Hey, if some part is good. No, those movies were up for best picture in their respective categories. How can a group that is willing to nominate such obviously undeserving movies be taken seriously? The better question though is WHY DO I CARE?
  • I know you've all wondered, but my Christmas present from the best-husband-ever (let's think of a good blog nickname for him, shall we?) has NOT DISAPPOINTED. Last night I was super bummed, and wanted to curl up to a good romance-y novel. Did I have one? No. Do I have any money? No. What did I do? Downloaded one from my library. While I was in my pajamas. On a Sunday night. WIN people. WIN.
  • I am about to go make some cinnamon bread, which I am not supposed to eat because I am trying to lose those last $#@! pounds. Seriously, this might prove impossible. I mean, cinnamon bread? I know what you're thinking. I have to make it. A neighbor did us a major favor the other day, and we need to show gratitude. No, I cannot just buy him a loaf. Homemade. It must be homemade. That's just the way I roll. 
Smile people. January will end someday. Also, in light of the excellent Amazon reviews of Snooki's book, I figured it was important to make sure you'd all seen this:

I got it from here.

Thursday, January 13, 2011

Bad Guy

Unrelated random before I start the real post: babygirl asks for things by repeating the name of the thing in her little lilting voice. "Water?" "Bottle?" "Show?" (you get the idea). Then, when I ask her if she wants that thing (because one-word requests are sort of ambiguous. And toddler-speak is a precarious art) she answers "Okay." So it goes:

babygirl: "show?"
Me: "you want to watch a show?"
babygirl: "Okay." *runs to couch*

I always feel played.

You might remember, although you probably don't, that I was having trouble with my villain in my current WIP. Sure, bad things happen. Many, many action sequences. Perhaps too many? But there was an absence of a real, defined villain. Someone you could hate, or at least point to as the cause of woe.

So I began a rewrite. Seriously, this was the biggest reason. I got to the ending climax and there was no bad guy to thwart them.

(Well, there WAS a bad guy. There is a big, bad, pulling-the-strings villain, but his reveal is of necessity at the end, so I can't say who he is. And, consequently, he's not got much camera time.)

I've added the bad guy in this round, although he's still not there enough and he's still...a bit of a puppy. I can't seem to make him really evil. Or even seven shades past douche.

Apparently I'm not the only one to have this problem. Check out's list of villains-who-were-really-good. (Note: the language here is a bit more adult than I usually post on my blog. Be warned.)

And I'll go eat some chocolate, because whenever I run into a problem with my writing, chocolate is the first defense. I know you thought revision was the answer, but you were wrong. Chocolate is always the answer.

Wednesday, January 5, 2011

Scales of Justice

So, there has been a lot of puking at my house lately. And, much as I've tried to avoid contamination, I'm the mom...every episode involving excess body fluids also involved them getting on me.

Yeah. This has been not so much my favorite week ever.

And, it seemed since everyone else got sick I was doomed. I mean, how could I not? Hubs got sick, and he, although super helpful and wonderful in almost all other ways, is not always helpful when it comes to cleaning vomit. He comforts the vomit-ee, plunks them in the bathtub, whatever. But generally (and there was at least one memorable exception this weekend) he doesn't get his hands dirty. I do. So how could I possibly avoid this plague?

I don't know. But I seem to have basically avoided the blasted virus. I feel nauseas, almost as if I were pregnant, which is not physically possible at this juncture, but other than that...nothing.

I'm not disappointed. Vomiting is one of my least favorite things. Really. Really. REALLY. But is a strange feeling of let down to be deprived of something you've been anticipating. Even dreading.

What's the moral here? Is there a writing-related moral? (probably) A life related moral? (don't eat chocolate all day assuming the tummy bug will purge you of your sin, perhaps?) Yup. Morals abound. But, I'm going to let you ponder them and go curl up with my nook and a romance novel. Which, come to think of it, was probably what I'd been anticipating anyway.