Water came out of your bed Mommy

This totally has nothing to do with writing, other than the fact that I am writing it, a'duh.

My three year old sleeps with me every night, which kicks my hubby right down onto the family room sofa, but that's beside the point. Anyway, last night she woke up, pushing hard on my shoulder to wake me. Her wide eyes full of fear as they tried hard to see my eyes through the dark room.
"Mommy, wake up, wake up. Hurry-water is coming out of the bed."

Her fear was so real as she tried to tug me out of the bed so this water wouldn't swallow me up and drown me. My dear young child was trying so desperately to save me.

"Hurry mommy, hurry. Look," she said tugging on her nightie. "It already got me all wet. Hurry mommy."

First I had to shake off a partial dream still in my foggy head before I realized exactly what was happening.

I felt her side of the bed, and it was wet. And by God she was right. Her nightie was soaked. Since I don't have a water bed I knew exactly what had happened.

I said, "Honey, it's okay. There's no water coming out of the bed. You went pee-pee. It's just an accident. I'll make it all..."

Before I could finish she interrupted as harshly as any three year old could.

"No I didn't. There's water coming out of the bed. See." By now I had the light on and her little innocent-there's no way I'd pee the bed finger was pointing at the big wet spot where *wink* water was coming out of it.

Needless to say, at three a.m. I am not arguing, explaining, or making anything up. I only had enough energy to clean her and the bed so I could just go back to sleep.

Finally we were all set. Everything was clean. I climbed in on my side of the bed and just before I was about the click the light off I realized she was standing on my side of the bed.

"What are you doing? Get into bed."

And with eyes and stance of any adult she said, "I AM NOT SLEEPING THERE. The water might come out of the bed again."

I slid over onto her side of the bed, turned the light off and snuggled next to my little big girl who for the first time since she was potty trained wet the bed.

Since she was entirely potty trained very early (she never wore a diaper or pull up, not even at night) by the time she was two months shy of three years old, and has never had an accident, I can see why she just couldn't imagine peeing the bed. It just would not, could not ever happen.

I wonder what's worse though???? Letting my kid fear we might drown while sleeping because I have a bed that gushes water at night, or tell her that sometimes kids have pee-pee accidents, and it really IS okay.

As I wander through the family room picking up toys and trying to keep my Lab and Chihuahua off my partially folded laundry that I’m in the midst of, my mind is far away. On the outside of my head I hear a baby chick singing, I see a hamster walking a plank and my three year is singing songs that are way too old for her. On the inside of my head I’m wondering if I need the tell my story of Lemonade for Christmas in the original third person or switch it to first person. I’m debating a prologue and epilogue.

I’m pretty sure I have ADD. At the same time I’m trying to conjure up something special I can do with the girls before they go back to school and how I’m supposed to get the smell of the rabbits out of the basement. The vet says cedar chips can give them pneumonia, but even cleaning out their cage once a week and having a litter box in there still isn’t working. Perhaps cedar chips under the bedding will do, well see.

I love summer. But, it sure does keep me out of the routine of things. There is so much on my personal agenda that gets lost in the summer, for now that’s okay.

My back to school to do list is as follows:

Work on my book.
Schedule all fall appts.: Vet, dentist and eye exams.
Get the house in order: Closets, drawers, garage and basement
Go through toys (birthdays are coming up-more stuff) and get rid of some.
Sign girls up for gymnastics (they already play fall ball too)
Get my cracked windshield fixed
Prepare yard, garden, patio’s and deck for fall.
Get Halloween costumes
Plan b-day party for September 17th
Plan b-day party for October 6th
Get gift for my Nicky (turning 20 on October 29th)
Get back on exercise routine
Polish query letter and synopsis
And of course I have to do my whole real estate job thingy.

The entire month of September will consist of Saturday b-day parties for my own as well as relative’s kid’s parties and this will carry through into most of October’s Saturdays. Not to mention my own birthday is on the 28th, which I usually end up having to work.

Practically all Sundays will consist of devoting my days to open houses for my listings. And between homework, gymnastics and fall ball the weekday evening are pretty much all used up. So I will get three days a week. Monday, Wednesday and Friday of every week (unless there is a holiday or something) during the just for me.

I DO intend to use this time wisely. I WILL GET MY BOOK POLISHED. IT WILL SHINE, AS WILL THE QUERY LETTER AND SYNOPSIS.

My main goal (of course other than being the best mom I can be) is to lead my readers through the publication process of my book. I intend to take you on a journey with me as I get the book perfect, send it to agents and then as they send it off to editors. And hopefully, the perfect end result-PUBLICATION.

I hope you follow me on my journey. An occasional ‘chin up’ comment when rejections come in . A ‘pat on the back’ when a request of offered. Most importantly a huge kick in the ass when I think about giving up.

Well, gotta go for now. Since it’s raining outside-it’s playtime on the inside. I’ve just been handed a yummy plate with (all plastic food) a hot dog, a crabby patty burger, French fries, ice cream cone, waffle, lemon, orange slice, the top of another bun, and a cup of tea from Chip (the cup in Beauty and The Beast)She will insist I eat it all. If I even try to tell her I’m done she will point out the ONE that I didn’t eat.

Hopefully, I’ll see ya tomorrow.

What to do? What to do?

I sit here today pondering a pounding question cutting into my brain so painfully. What am I supposed to do with my life? Don’t get me wrong. I have a full life. A wonderful life-better than I ever thought it would be. Better than I think most who have ever known me have thought it would be. And although I practically have two full time jobs as an at home mom and a Realtor-there is something missing.

I feel somewhat selfish in saying that, but it’s true. I’ve always been this kind of person. I can be a lot of things to a lot of people, but if I’m not who I want to be for me then there is something lacking. I’m envious of the people in the world who are satisfied by just being who they are and don’t need anything ‘special’ about who they are. Not that I want or need to be special. There are just parts of me missing. Ya know the feeling of not feeling complete. I’m a puzzle that some pieces are missing to. You can’t just sit there looking at that pretty little picture with missing pieces. You know they are around somewhere-they just need to be found.

Anyway, I hate my job as a Realtor these days. The market sucks a Mount Everest lollipop. Not that I was ever a good sales person. I’m just a good hand-holder. Seems 8 years is too long to go through life holding hands and hoping for a constant cash flow. These days I’m putting out more money than I’m making. I know, enough already about the whining. I know I need to do something about it.

I’ve set new goals for myself. Realistic goals (I’m pretty sure). Like I said earlier, I have two full time jobs. Well, I consider myself to have another full-time job. Behind closed doors, with only a few words seeping out beyond these doors, I am a writer. I put more time into my writing than I ever do with the Real Estate career. Hum, maybe that’s why I’m not making money. Anyway, that’s beside the point, and I don’t want to go there because writing is more important to me than any outside career I’ve ever had.

So my new goals are to begin when the kids go back to school in 12 days. I will have specific writing times to finish revising Lemonade for Christmas. I’m hoping to get it out there to agents by the end of September. I’m thinking that if agents/editors are reading it just before the Christmas Holiday then the impact of the story will be stronger then if it were being read at a different time, especially right after Christmas. I think most people feel that once the holiday is over-IT IS OVER. At least for the next 10 months or so.

The job I do so fully love is being a mom and I hate the fact that I just can’t stop thinking about just XXX more days before school starts. I am such a strong believer in the term DON’T WISH YOUR LIFE AWAY. Now that I’m 38 (soon to be 39) I think back on so many times where I did just wish my life away. Now I just want time to stay still for a while so I can enjoy my kids while they are still young. This is one of the most important reasons why I think it’s important that I don’t waste my time doing something I really don’t like. It takes so much time away from them, with the end result usually not worth it.

So as I sit here balancing my laptop outside amongst sidewalk chalk, floaties, abandoned Popsicle sticks and toddler gardening supplies I’m already missing my kids. Yes, they are all here, but will be back at school all too soon. It seems it was just a couple of days ago that I was screaming about all the toys left around the house, the pool towels tossed over railings and on their bedroom floor, and all the pool toys left in the pool or scattered about in the yard. I weekly wash about 10 bathing suits, most from all the ‘visitors’ who come swimming without a suit. Oh, and all the extra towels too. The makers of Tide love those who live my lifestyle.

Not to mention every night begging to have a sleepover. Groceries being eaten up by everyone walking through my door. Bikes, scooters and clothes being left here by all the visitors. Running the dishwasher more than once a day.

Well, honestly it probably was just a couple of days ago that I was yelling about all of those things. It was easier to be hard on them in the beginning of the summer, but now I’m already missing it.

Going back to school will also mean the pool will be closed. The happy, loud, splashing kids will be gone. The vegetable garden won’t have a bunch of feet running through it squealing with excitement over how big a cucumber got. The smell of hot dogs grilling will be gone. The swing set will collect cobwebs and the garage, driveway and yard will stay tidy. And of course there won’t be all the towels, extra clothes, kids running through eating up my food, bikes and scooters left around. I should be happy, right? I won’t have anything to complain about, right? Nope! As much as all of that drives me crazy, at the same time it thrills me. I know it won’t last for long. One day it will be gone forever and it will be then that I’ll want it even more.

So what was the point of this blog anyway? Oh yeah, I’m going to take my time and live in the moment. I will set my goals more realistically, not taking away from my family. I will use the three days a week (when I’m alone) to write. And once I know my manuscript is ready I will send it off into the world. That same world that my little ones will fly to someday. That same world that already holds my oldest. All my babies are precious to me, whether they have come from my womb or my heart. All of which I will only release when I know they are ready-WHEN THEY ARE TRULY READY.

Call Me A Slacker...

Well you can call me that if you wish, but this blog is the only thing I've been slacking about. I know, casting the blogging rod every two months, just isn't reeling in the readers. So, I will try to keep the promise I made to myself, and continue to blog as often as I can.

I've been so totally busy with Real Estate. In fact, lately I feel like the scrawny dude in the strong man competition, trying like hell to move these houses that just aren't selling. Nothing's selling right now. I'm physically and mentally exhausted by it all. But, it's my job, so here I am doing it. Now for a moment close your eyes (well wait 'til you read the rest of this sentence) and picture me strapping a big, thick rope to a 4000 square foot house and trying my best to pull it, just an inch...just a centimeter...no give. None at all. Oh, and the rope's in my teeth and I'm on roller skates. Not pretty, eh.

Enough Pouting. On to the good stuff.

The month of May was great with Mother's day at my house. Oh, how I love family get-togethers. And...I had my first piece published in May. It was an article, in The Huffington Post, for their Mother's Day Issue. Yea me-I was thrilled. Check it out here: http://www.huffingtonpost.com/wendy-brown-/shes-still-my-little-gir_b_47707.html

May also included many softball games for my girls, several field trips, and my ten-year-old's birthday Party. And then a moment I had been waiting for all year...My trip to New York City for the Backspace conference. Backspace, the writer's forum, is a group of wonderful people with a common interest-they are already published, or are on their way to publication.

The conference was an absolute thrill. An all/awe inspiring three days for me. Not only did I get the chance to put faces to the names of the writer's on the forum, but I also had the opportunity to rub elbows with some of the finest agents and editors in the publishing industry. I heard the stories of how author's made their dreams become a reality, and heard stories from long-time authors such as David Morrell, who's story brought tears to my eyes.

This event evoked something so powerful inside of me. I couldn't wait to get back home and write. The anxiety so powerful within me. The adrenalin bubbling through my veins like lava about to erupt form a garden hose. In my mind, on the way home, I envisioned myself running along side my own car, then sprinting ahead several strides, until I beat myself to my own door. Rushing to get to the computer, where my characters were waiting to greet me, as an infant who needing nursing would.

And so...that's just what I've been up to. Trying my best to perfect my novel, Lemonade for Christmas, so all of you wonderful people can read it (bound) one day, instead of on 8 1/2 x 11, or the computer screen. In case there are readers unfamiliar with my book, I hope this sparks your interest:

Jack learns at the age of twelve what the true meaning of Christmas and family is really about. In the months prior to Christmas his life was turned upside down. First he learns that is mother is going to have a baby, then his friend becomes deathly ill, and lastly he is faced with the possible demise of his mother and unborn brother.

Prior to these events Jack only cared about himself and what money could buy him. Finding himself amidst the pain that no twelve year old should ever endure, he finds new meaning to life and Christmas. He also realizes that lessons are not only taught by parents and mentors, but by people we might least expect.

As each new holiday approaches, along with it comes the desire for inspiration to tug at our heart strings. It is a time when hope, sorrow, love and miracles are all within our reach. Some believe that inspiration is best found in the form of a tale, or a happenstance of another’s life, or perhaps as Jack might insist, in a cup of lemonade.

I believe, as Jack does, that inspiration can be found in the most unexpected places, by unexpected people. I also believe that if you take the time to indulge yourself in a bit of Lemonade for Christmas then you just might believe as well.

This novel is a quick read at only 210 fast paced pages. Even the busiest holiday shoppers can find the few hours it takes to capture the endless hours of inspiration found in this story.

This story should appeal to those who enjoyed similar seasonal novels such as The Christmas Box and The Christmas Shoes.

I hope this makes you want more. I will offer up more in future blogs. Hope to see you there. For now all, I'm hearing the voices...of my character's that is...feeding time.

A Bitter-Sweet Holiday

Well the holiday is over, but my feelings about it dwell. The day itself was great, however it leaves me a bit empty inside. It was my first holiday without my oldest with me. In reading my earlier posts you've heard that she moved to Philly. She did come home for the holiday, spending an hour at our house on Saturday to cut hair for a few family members, then off to dinner with her boyfriends family, which is where they stayed the night. Ah, my heart. For the first time she would not be here to find her Easter basket and hunt for the eggs.

I thought when she said she was coming home on Saturday she meant that she was staying the night here. Her and her boyfriend's baskets were made up, and as I sit her to write, their baskets still await patiently to be found by the small child I still see her as.

Although she is nineteen I still couldn't see myself not making her up a basket. I know it probably seems strange to all of you. But to those of you with small children I'm sure you just can't seem to really picture them grown up and on their own. I will do what I have to in order to keep my heart intact. Letting go is harder than I ever imagined. I know I will be a true basket case by the time my youngest leaves home. Perhaps by that time I will be ready since that is still sixteen years away. Maybe by then I will be tired-I hope not. I hope to never get tired of being a needed mother. I know they will always need me in their own way. I just want them to need me in the way I need them to need me??? Not sure if that makes any sense or not.

Anywho, we spent Easter day with my in-laws, and then off to my moms where I just love spending time with my family-mother and sisters and all who are attached to them. I think there is nothing greater than family. My hubby and others I know just cringe at running all around on the holidays to visit family. Not me. I love it. There is never enough time to see everyone, and this at least makes us make the time, and I am just incredibly thankful for the family I do have to visit. Some people don't have any (left). I hope to never be that unfortunate. Family is the best thing we have. Without them nothing else would matter-not a nice, big house. Not our careers. Not our goals or dreams. Without family all that other stuff is pointless-through my eyes anyway.

Another sad thing about this holiday is that my 8 and 9 year old don't really believe in the Easter Bunny any more. They've been questioning for the past year or two about him and Santa. I have told them what I always told my oldest, "You have the right to believe what you want. To listen to your friends, but you never know what will happen if you don't believe-so you decide". That made the wheels turn in my oldest's head years ago, and now I believe in the other's heads as well. I provided the belief (along with society), so I think it's only fair that I not take it away from them. I think the only one who can really take it away from them, is 'them'. Believing in such things is part of being an innocent kid and as these things slowly disappear, as does their childhood.

Kids only get a chance of being a kid once and it doesn't last that long. I give my kids room to grow and discover themselves. I want them to be independent and strong willed, but I never want their childhood to dissolve before its time. These days kids are growing up too fast and it is our job as parents to create and preserve a child-like environment for them. It's bad enough that we are constantly aware that they will grow up, so helping them be kids is one of the greatest, most rewarded jobs I have as a mother.

So in saying that let me leave you on this note.

On the days that you really don't feel like putting that puzzle together, or playing dress up, or pushing them on the swing, or eating plastic food, or dancing silly, or baking a cake with them (for fear of making the kitchen a mess). Do it. Do it all. Take the time. Let the kitchen get messy. Let the laudry pile up. Let go-be a kid yourself-if only in your heart. Not only will they have the best time and appreciate it, but you will too, even more than you can imagine.

We are all blessed by being parents. These little people are not just small roommates, they are the smiles on our faces, the fullness in our hearts, our hope for tomorrow and a memory of who we were, and the dreams of who they will become.

An Inspitational Evening

For those of you who have high dreams, expectations that seem to supersede reality, and belief in yourself, hear this.

We all have something hidden deep within us. Something so powerful that we ourselves may fear the actual knowledge of. It's that something that encourages us to trudge forward day in and day out with the hope that tomorrow will be a better, more profound day. Some of us dig deep-taking the time and energy to, not only realize, but grasp who and what we actually are. We are all more than who we are. We can all do more than we do.

True happiness presents its self once our dreams are realized. Although, realizing them is not enough. By far, it is just the beginning. There comes a time, in all of us, that the need to achieve our dreams supersedes all else. It is those of us who make the time, find the way, and bomb the disillusionment that there is no map to fully uncover, unfold and live our dreams. Dreams don't necessarily need to be big or small. They just need to be exposed and lived.

I was a closet writer when I was a child. Not that I kept it a secret, but I actually sat in my closet to write. Those who knew me would never truly understand my need to write stories, so I did it in the confines of my literary hut. As I grew, so did my confidence and desires.

Writing, to me, is no longer a shadow of who I am. It is not anything to be shameful about, but proud of. It is who and what I am made of. Surely if I were to be x-rayed they'd find nothing but a bunch of stories, books and desires inside of me.

I consider myself one of the lucky ones. Not because I have a dream and I am trying to live up to it, but because I took the time to indulge in my dream and took notice of who I really am.

I'm not so sure, but I sometimes wonder about angry, irritable people. To me, for someone to sit on and never let their dreams be known, just might be like walking around with an open wound and trying to ignore it. Believe me when I say it's better to nurse it, pamper it, soothe it and all your pain will disappear, as will the irritability with it. Who really knows, but it might be worth a try.

So, all of you out there with unrealized dreams-stop sitting on them. Give them room to breath and grow. Show the world who you really are-you'll be a much happier person for doing so, as will those around you.

I had the honor of meeting Jon Clinch last night at a book signing. What an inspiration that was. It still lingers in my mind today how he is actually living his dream. His debut novel 'Finn' sounds wonderful and I can't wait to read it. He's taken Huck Finn's dad and created an unusually compassionate tale about him. Not that there really is anything compassionate about the old guy, or that compassionate is the right word, but just read it for yourself and see.

As for even more excitement to the evening. I am part of a writer's forum called Backspace. It's even better than the whole 'writer's section' of B&N. The entire site is a wealth of knowledge and the friendliest, most helpful group of people you'd ever know. I was lucky enough to meet three of them last night at the signing. Carrie, Elizabeth, and Stella are all wonderful ladies. I can't wait to meet up with them again in New York in May.

For all of you reading this do me, and yourself, a favor. The next time you have a bad day, or you're angry and don't know why, take a moment to search for a flattened, deflated, ignored dream. If you find one, do the only thing you can, try, just try living it.

I wrote this poem when I was a young-girl-closet-writer and it still sticks with me today:

Life's A Dream

To sing a song is joyful
To play a game's amusing
To live the life we live
Is very much confusing.

To sing a song the words are there
To lose a game is never fair,
But what is to compare?

To a life that lives on dwelling
Of a future not foretelling
'Tis needless to surrender
All hopes and dreams of splendor.

Any dream is worth chasing
And obstacle worth partaking
Of any dream you wish to explore
And follow through with what you endure.

And in the end you'll discover
No one dream is like another.

When all is over and you're at your peak
You just might find there's more to seek.

Dreams don't end
They only grow
And yet you'll find
There's more to know.

When your dreams have been met
Without the feeling of regret...

Your song's been sang
Your games been played
For this truly fulfilling
Life that you have made.

I'm not so sure it's a 'good poem', but the meaning of it was good enough to stay with me all these years.

So I Was Saying.....Gwaaaaaaaaafff...

Okay, so I came up with this brilliant idea to become a blogger. (Not my idea entirely. It seems others are doing it too.) I will blog daily and everyone, yes everyone, will read my words of -wisdom, humor, craft, gibberish. Yes, all eighteen that have viewed my site, I do consider to be EVERYONE. Anyone who hasn't yet is still considered no one.

So anyway, I thought I should do this daily and I tried, but then, just the other day, the only thing that came out of my mouth was Gwaaaaaaaafff... This is what started the lapse in blog time. I'll save you the details, but I haven't Gwaaaaafffed like that since I was pregnant-years ago. Not only did I Gwaaaaafff for days, but two of my kids did too. It was like our whole house was Gwaaaaafffing for days.

My king-sized bed became a sandlot of tissues, buckets, damp washcloths, miniature humans and myself. Where was the hubby in all this? Well he was the smart one-keeping his distance on the couch, although it included a day off work for him.

As if the Gwaaaaafffing wasn't bad enough. Ya ever feel like all the bones have been removed from your body-nothing to hold it upright. Even worse, if you can imagine one of those toothpaste-pusher-upper thing-a-ma-jigs. That's what I felt like for days. Like someone was pushing up on my boneless body-starting at my feet all the way to my head, until it was about to explode. Didn't even have the luxury of Motrin or else I'd-well you know. GOD AWFUL. I hated germs before, but now I have it in for them.

You know the saddest part to all of this, other than the fact that we all encountered yet another invasion, is this. As horrible as I felt I tried to go to work. I had gotten an offer on a property I have listed.... Hey listen, instead of sounding like the Realtor that I am, I'll just give you the high points. I thought it was noble of me to try and go to work, and on my way there I did the 'G' word in my car. I had no choice but to cancel and the agent practically called me a liar. She thought I was holding out for another offer. How dare she?

Now, along with everything else, my honesty was being questioned. For a brief moment, I thought, I'll show her. Not as in payback, but as in I'LL SHOW HER the 'G' in my car. Maybe then she would believe me. Instead the only thing these jelly-like legs could do was press on the gas long enough to get me home-in bed, where I stayed until this morning. Ah, what tomorrow really means. You never realize just how good tomorrow is until it's here. After all, it's on-ly aaaa daaaaaay a-waaaaaaay. At least I'm not an Orphan scrubbing toilets. (No offense to those of you who are)

Oh, well. That's all folks-until tomorrow. Well, since it's so late it's early, and tomorrow, I guess it's already tomorrow, or is it today. Forgive me, I'm tired and dehydrated along with other excuses, I may discuss once I get to know all EIGHTEEN of you better, but for now it's bedtime. Hopefully, whatever the day will be once I wake up, I will write something brilliant and new. If nothing happens good enough to write about, I'll just LIE (in writer's lingo we call that fiction). Good night.

A Stranger Entered Our Home While We Slept...

I woke this morning with my robotic routine in gear. After performing the normal hygienic a.m. tasks I found my way to the kitchen where I started coffee, let the dogs out, dropped some dog food in their bowls, then straight to the fish tank where all hell broke loose. I pinched a bit of fish food from the container and from the corner of my eye-movement beneath the fish stand. With a shriek I jumped backward, knocking over a chair. Trying to keep my balance my heel came down hard on a piece of stray dog food (ouch), hopping on one foot I managed to knock over the dogs water. All the while my eyes on the stranger in my home. With a quick look to the left and then the right in search of help-no one. I was alone to deal with this stranger.

Finally, my balance gave out and both feet were once again on the ground. Heroically, I tiptoed over to him, bent down a bit and was staring into the beady brown eyes of who I assumed was NOT Mickey. Not because he was brown, but because his ears were a tad small. I did however have to look twice to ensure myself that he wasn't our long lost hamster-nope.

Anyway, what was I to do. He was lying there all alive and everything, kinda sideways on one of those icky sticky mousetraps. I think he was actually gasping, eeer, not that I was staring or anything. I wondered where this mouse in the sticky trap came from. I wondered how far he could have traveled carrying this thing on his side. Must have been a long ways since he just gave up and was all out of breath lying on my kitchen floor.

Not wanting the kids to witness this awful intruder, I woke my husband who informed me that he had put the trap there the night before-without the (not Mickey) mouse on it, of course. He had told me a couple of weeks prior that he thought we had a mouse, but I just thought he was hallucinating from staying up too late. I was sure that since I was the one who really knew all the ins and outs about the house that I would know for sure if we had a mouse. I was wrong.

Not thinking of him as a bad guy or anything (the mouse, not my husband), I asked my husband if there was possibly a way to peel him from the glue and give him another chance. Just one more chance after all he'd been through. You wouldn't believe the look on my husbands face while he carried the dangling mouse to the back door.

I went upstairs to get ready for work thinking about how a life ended at my home today. Geesh, when I say it that way I feel like a really bad person.

In a few hours we're off to the Circus-Ringling Brothers in Baltimore. I can't wait, although my 8 and 9 year old, and my husband are kind of dreading it. I know once they get there they'll have fun. If nothing more just getting out as a family is all I really care about anyway. Our three year old is psyched, I guess. She's not really sure what a circus is, but I guess it's my reaction that makes her get excited. If I said it JUST RIGHT, I could probably tell her that we were going to fling cow patties and she'd be thrilled by that. You see, for kids that age, all they really hear is 'WE ARE...' and they get excited, and that's good enough for them. Ah, to be young again.

Hi Ho, Hi ho, it's off to shool they go...

Well I just got the last of my stow-a-ways off to school. Never took the time to beef up the security on my belly, so it happened four times. Now I'm pretty used to them, and they're pretty cute, so I'll let them stay. Actually, I recently let one go-kinda. She actually let me go. It's sad ya know-having her around for nineteen years, and then poof she's gone. Gone to Philly that is. It's only been a few weeks and I'm still getting used to it all. At least she only moved an hour away.

It's funny that when they are little you just assume that they will always 'need' you, and then they grow up. I knew I should have put her in the infamous shoe box my mother always talked about. Maybe if my cooking was better she would have stayed. I love when she comes to visit (ouch, that hurts to say that). She is, by far, my favorite visitor. My three year old follows her around when she's here and looks at her all starry eyed-like she's Dora The Explorer or something. That's really cool. I have great kids-not perfect, but great none the less.

Ahhh, me time. I have three and a half hours and I will work on my book today, once I quit procrastinating, of course. I'll finish this blog and then get to work. Really, I will. There is just really never enough time. And believe it or not I told the Pre-school today that I would volunteer one day a week. They are short these days and I thought it was the noble thing to do. Like I have the time.

Ya know everyone thinks that having babies is what gives us ladies our stretch marks, but it's really from being pulled in all the different direction that we are. There is a reason men don't have stretch marks. Think about it. I can be in the middle of fifty thousand things and my husband will be unstressing (yada, yada) and the kids, all at once, will need only me. But that's okay, because now I realize that one day they won't (ouch again). So I will cater, bend over backward (ex-gymnast), kiss nasty boo-boo's, wipe butts (only to the three year old), and give my entire heart to them. I know over the years they will do unbelievable things to it, in fact I still have the footprints on it from my oldest, but I forgive her. If my other three turn out half as good as my oldest I will have done a terrific job. So in the end (and the beginning, and the middle) it's all worth it.

Have a great day, unless of course you live here in Maryland where we're expecting 6 inches of the (we're so done with that) white stuff. I'll quote my eight-year-olds words of wisdom today, "Well even though we didn't want any more snow, Mommy, we should just have fun with it since it's here anyway." Spoken like a true third grader.

Thanks for stopping by my universe. It's all casual here so kick off your shoes, relax and enjoy your visit. Well my name is Wendy and I reside in Neverland with my bestest friend ever, Peterpan. Other than the green tights he's a pretty cool fellow. He did teach me to fly after all. Anyway, it's great to live in another place and time which is why I like to write stories.

The title of my [yet to be published] book is, are ya ready for this, I hope you like it. It's...it's...drum roll please...yes, bongos will do. These guys never get it right. Here we go if you can hear me through the dreaded Bongo noise in the background. It's LEMONADE FOR CHRISTMAS. Sound cool? Well it is cool. I love it. It's my fifth baby and one day I will send it out into that 'real world', away from the security of Neverland and it will hopefully find its way into your home.

The book is now in the process of revisions, and revisions, and revisions..... I figured starting a blog was another way to keep my baby home longer. Ahhh, what would we have if we didn't have diversions. I know-probably a completely revised published novel. Diversions feel so good though. They feel like a refreshing bubble bath after playing in the snow. Problem is most things that feel really good are not so good for you.

I could use excuses all day long, but the real truth of it is that I want this so bad. It's like the one chance you get at love, or that balance beam routine (longtime gymnast), or a spelling bee, or anything that ever meant so much that the use of your entire heart and head are involved. It's that important...the most important, other than your 'real babies' (alright, I'll throw in the Hubby too, for safe measure), that you could ever want.

So the real fear here is either it will never be good enough, or it just might one day be good enough to make it and where will that leave me? Who will that leave me? Would my life change? Would I no longer have A DREAM? What would I do with my kids (okay, Hubby too) when I do my twenty city tour?

Well thanks for listening. I looooooove listeners, and readers. Feel free to leave a comment and come by again soon. Occasionally I serve Cybertini's, usually apple-yum!