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Thursday, January 15, 2009Horridly LaxWell, not in general. Just here, on this blog. It's just that I've got other "things" I've been doing. Namely, writing. I know, I know, blogging is writing. But it's not the kind of writing I need to be doing right now. I'm still on an active agent search (two have material on their desks as I type) for Book One, and I've recently finished the first draft of Book Two. I've got a rhyming children's book that I really need to get back to, and I'm busy with other writing as well (online). So tales of diapers and hapless husbands and life in the Boehme Hoehme has had to take a necessary back seat. And, too, I've got three teenagers underfoot. (Disclaimer: The girls do not wish to be called "teenagers.") They're awesome kids (she says with utter disinterestedness), but they're still...teenagers. Or whatever it is they wish to be called. And that can get...trying. Add a toddler and a never-stops-talking nine-year-old to the mix, and you can see why I need to streamline my writing time. I'm keeping this blog open, and will try to at least post a few melt-your-heart pictures of Molly from time to time. But mainly I've got to focus on Other Writing. That, and getting rid of the ridiculous case of hives I've been battling for weeks. Molting sounds like a good idea right about now. I mean...have you ever scratched yourself so violently that you ended up with bruises? Yeah. Bruises. I look like some sort of reptilian junkie. So you'll excuse me if I'm not including a picture of myself with this post. It's bad enough that Eric has to look at me while rubbing doesn't-do-all-that-much creme on my back. He's so good. He keeps telling me that I'm beautiful. His optometrist, on the other hand, keeps telling him he needs bifocals. There you have it. Thanks for checking in. I promise I won't let more than a month pass next time! Tuesday, December 16, 2008This says it all
 I love my sister. :) Labels: family Saturday, December 06, 2008Real Men Wear Baby Blue MittensWe got our Christmas tree last night. Naturally, it was extremely cold. Well, okay -- "extremely" as in "I've lived in the South for 20 years and my body can't take any temperature below 40 degrees." And honestly, it was hovering around 30. So, yeah. Cold. My dear husband, of course, left the house without his gloves. Not that riffling through Christmas trees and standing in the 30-degree weather holding up tree after tree for the family to debate over is going to warrant warm hands or anything. Nah. So by the time we got to the second tree, Eric's hands were hurting. Maggie stepped in, producing an extra pair of mittens from within her coat pockets. "Here, Daddy. Put these on." She held out the baby blue, oh-so-soft-and-stretchy, girlie mittens to her father. Eric hesitated. "No, I'm okay, thanks." "Daddy, TAKE THEM." Eric hesitated some more. Then his cold hands won the battle. He took the mittens and squeezed his hands into them. They looked really nice with his black leather jacket. Of course he launched into a silly, effeminate dance to show off the mittens. Or maybe he was showing off his manliness. Because, you know, real men aren't afraid to wear their daughter's baby blue mittens when their hands are cold. I love my husband. Sunday, November 09, 2008Author-in-the-MakingI'm already pleased as pudding that nine-year-old Spencer is happily reading Tolkien's Lord of the Rings. Imagine my delight when, the other day, Spencer looked up from the pages of The Two Towers and said, "I'm not only reading this because I like it. I'm reading this because it's teaching me how to write well." I was...floored. Because, honestly, I didn't teach him that. I believe it with my whole heart, of course. Every fledgling writer who asks me what they should do to improve their writing ("College degree? Grammar courses? A new Macbook?") receives the same answer: "Read good books." It's true, you know. You will only write as well as you read. And somehow, my son instinctively picked up on this. An author/homeschooling mama's dream child. Well, most days. Labels: homeschooling, life, writing Thursday, October 23, 2008A Girl's Best Friend...?I had just finished changing a poopy diaper -- a remarkably large load, I might add -- and was on my way out of the bathroom with just-washed hands. Little Molly, of course, had followed me into the bathroom (no matter how fast I move, she's always quicker). I scooped her up and began to smother her in kisses. That's when I noticed she was in the process of putting something smallish and distinctively non-baby-friendly in her mouth. I grabbed it before she completed the move. It was my diamond engagement ring. Now, I only remove my diamond ring when I'm making dough. I shower in it, sleep in it, and do every household chore imaginable in it -- mainly because, if I took it off, I would be sure to lose it. (You all know this is true.) Which means that the obviously dropped ring was the result of one of three things: 1. My fingers have lost weight. 2. My knuckles are shrinking. 3. Molly was born with criminal instincts. Since my fingers are as short and stocky as ever and my knuckles continue to appear at least twenty years older than the rest of me, I'm going to assume that my daughter couldn't resist the diamond. The poop was a ploy to distract me while she greased it off my finger with her own saliva. Yeah, that must be it. It was a stomach-dropping moment for sure. Because if Molly hadn't picked it up and decided to taste it, I'm not I would have noticed it was gone. And I can just imagine the sheer horror of looking down at my left hand and noticing the absence of the one thing I own that has real monetary value. Now I'm paranoid. I keep checking -- is it there? Has it slipped off? I'm still not sure how it happened, or when. Part of me wants to take it off and put it in my jewelry box. But if I do that, I'll forget that I did it, and I'll panic when I realize the ring isn't on my finger. I can't win. Maybe I should attach it to my wedding band with florist's wire. Or solder. And maybe I shouldn't tell Eric about this. Or...maybe I should stick to cheap costume jewelry. Oy. |
About Me
I am: Mother to five stunningly individualistic children... Writer of young adult fantasy... Passionate advocate for Women At Home... Madly in love with my husband... In need of Organic Gourmet Chocolate on a regular basis. I've got a Paypal account if you'd like to contribute to the cause....
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