Hey, you kids, yeah, you over in the corner there.

I’m still having nightmares about pulling cafeteria duty. Thanks a lot for the damage, just fyi. Be good! Don’t just try, do it! happy spring. please don’t drive your cars too fast, these kind of things can go bad really quickly. I know.

love,

me

ps last night I hit 70,000 words in my novel. You know what that means? I have a book, my friends. Here are 21 Tips for Writers in 21 Days from the Attic Institute and Biff Zine (thanks, Anne T.!) and… Open Library! (thank you, Terri!) OK, back to writing.

“Life isn’t a support-system for art. It’s the other way around.” — Stephen King, “On Writing”

My husband and daughter, playing a duet.

“What I wanted to be when I grew up was in charge.” — Wilma Vaught

did I mention that I retired? I know, I know — always with the big news around this place.

Yeah, yeah, I thought I needed grad school, but what I really needed was to retire and write. So I retired! (Seriously, I was all, BRAINSTORM.) It’s my friend Dan, he sets a bad example. Technically, my last day was Friday, but due to the fact that I am nice… when my principal asked me if I would please come in and train my replacement (who didn’t start work ’til yesterday), I said, Sure! Thus confusing my students beyond all belief and making them cry.

“They told me you left, but you didn’t you’re right here!”

Oh, geez, kids. They break your heart and they fill your heart, every day.

here’s my day, so far, starting with last night:

1) WENT TO BED EARLY and got a good night’s sleep. This is something new. Goodbye, stress and work anxiety and having nightmares about cafeteria duty and kids throwing food at me. (Teaching: The Dirty Secrets Come Out, Today on Wacky Mommy…)

2) told Steve to sleep in. I think he started to ask, Really? But he was snoring halfway through the word so I can’t be sure.

3) Here’s the thing… I don’t know what my kids eat for breakfast, or lunch, so much. Not so much. OK, woke up the kids, and after brief fits (this is normal, right?) they got up. (Usually I’m out the door and Steve deals with all this. That’s the way we’ve done it for a looooooooong time now. I work out, ignore everyone, get ready and go; he deals with the rest; they go to school. Then at 3 o’clock, I take over.)

4) After some skepticism (“You’re fixing our breakfast and lunch, really? No. Really?“) The kids did some, No, not like that, like this, etc. and gave me pointers, we dealt, and I got them out the door.

5) Whew ;)

6) Then got Steve out the door.

7) Whew ;)

8) Tended to a) cats b) laundry c) dishes d) computer tech stuff with my ma — Updates from Steve, Computer God as well as Hockey God e) my son’s room f) resisted urge to tidy up daughter’s room, having been told by almost-teenager to stay out, Mom, please?!!!??!!! and next…

9) I’m going to do some yoga and…

10) write!

11) my (former) co-workers are joshing me, Let us know when you have your first book written! me: Uh, I have two written. I’ll let you know when they’re published.

12) dinner? How about potato soup and green salad? I’m going to do a simple one, but this sounds good (sub vegetable broth). Or perhaps you would prefer cupcakes? (writing again, feeling superstitious and doing all my weird writing habits, so i have to skip the next number…)

14) my hair looks crazy — I chopped it all off and now it will just look crazy for 2 years until it grows out again. just fyi.

15) interesting random fact, from my internet browsings this a.m.: Have you ever heard of a leafy sea dragon? I hadn’t either, what a quincidence.

16) my daughter’s middle school band is doing a play-a-thon, how awesome is that? It will be from 8 a.m. to 8 p.m. — the kids sign up for shifts. Great idea, eh? please support the music and art programs at your local schools, you will not regret it a bit. Books are always welcome, too. Just drop off a bag of books with the secretaries at the front office and say, These are for the teachers to use in the class or send home with the kids, and they will say, Thank you. And you can say, You’re welcome. And it is just magical, really.

17) I’m still going to keep writing my library blog. Send me a note if you don’t already have the address, or I bet you can figure it out if you’re a girl sleuth. Or a boy sleuth, for that matter, ha.

18) Steve and I started talking about moving out to Washington County a long, long time ago. Like, about ten minutes after we moved into our new (to us) 100-year-old house and I realized I’d bought a “vintage” house that would need more than I would ever, ever be willing to give it. That house, honestly — it was like a demanding old woman who wanted some nice new cosmetic surgery every week or so. Also, there were the pitbulls. And the serenades. And the Nasty Neighbor. And the Other Ones.

19) Yesterday, to celebrate my Last Real Day of Work, I took myself out for coffee. Someone ordered the following (this is verbatim): “A three-shot grande pumpkin hazelnut latte extra hot with no foam!” Jeez. People. Plus, that doesn’t even sound good.

20) Did you know that this Thursday, March 10th, is International Women’s Day? How cool. Celebrate your hero. No, I don’t mean me. I’m gonna go get another cup of coffee (it will contain a) coffee b) milk) and avoid the heroics.

happy, happy, happy, happy Tuesday.

— wm

She’s funny, this kid. Two weeks ago she snuggled up next to me, looked at me adoringly and asked me, “Ms. Nancy, why don’t you ever have any good books in your library?”

Ohhhhhhh, let me count how many books (new and new-to-us) I put on the shelves in the past six months: A ton. That’s right.

So she heard I was leaving, Due to Tendonitis and Exceeding Need to Publish My Own Writing (and perhaps start a new internet project, with Stevie. More on that later ;)

Today she gave me a really sweet goodbye card, another big hug, then shoved me away and had a lil fit.

“I want to be a writer. I want to be WRITING!”

My response: “Do it.”

I (heart) kids. Writing. And books. Today? In that order.

my son, smiling and patting my head, “Oh, mommy, look! You’ve got so much hair you could hide a whole family of munchkins in there.”

and what mama wouldn’t want that?

what do you think?

conversation between my ma, my son, and me:

Mom: “I’m going to the movies this weekend. We’re going to see this one about Mother Maybelle and the Carters…”

Wacky Boy: “You gonna see ‘Little Fockers’?”

Mom: “No, no we’re not. It’s about the Carter Family, you know them?”

me: “Sure he does!” (i start singing “Keep on the Sunny Side.” He shushes me. Yes, he’s nearly nine and he shushes us.)

Wacky Boy: “So why aren’t ya gonna see ‘Little Fockers’?”

Mom: “I’m just not that sophisticated, I guess.”

How To NOT Do Your Homework

By Wackyboy & his friends

Chapter #1 1st you feed it to your dog, cat ect. If you do not have one then you must “accidentally” drop it in the sink

Chapter #2 2nd ( if chose to drop it in the sink) fold it in half 20 times and throw it over the fence.

Chapter #3 3rd well actually 2nd if you feed it to a cat or a dog . Then you go tell your teacher that your dog/cat ate your homework.

Chapter #4 Now it happens that some teachers give you waterproof homework. If this happens then you should tear it up and put it on your dad/mom’s salad.

dream wish fly if a bird asks you how imagine

like a friend jump with me and pretend

“Writing is a way of talking without being interrupted.” — Jules Renard, author (1864-1910)

don’t i know it.

so, we attempted to enjoy a day at the beach yesterday. here’s the thing about the Oregon coast — it is what it is. times 100. so even when you know that it’s going to be blustery and cold, it’s still nice to take a not-too-long drive and get there, just for the sake of breathing the salt air. (from our new place, it’s 71.5 miles to the nearest beach — less than 2 hours by car, and I really do wish the trains still ran to the beach. i’ve heard tales and it sounds so good.)

all i wanted to do, with my one little measly day off, was walk on the beach (we brought our boots and raincoats), breathe in the good, wet air, have a bite of lunch somewhere, do a little window shopping at one of the chi-chi overpriced boutiques (seashell assortment, anyway? fudge? ice cream? Christmas ornaments shaped like ugly little elves?) then drive home.

but Hockey God and Hockey God Jr. had a different plan, namely, horse around in the ocean, get run over by a sneaker wave and almost die.

I like my plan better.

Also, this is where I really, really hate the whole “parenting together” thing. So when my son, soaking wet, sandy, exhilarated because they didn’t die, isn’t that great? told me, “Dad said you were going to punch him in the face for this…” well, OK. Let’s slow this down for a minute.

1) I’m glad they didn’t die and wow, that really is great, sweetheart. However…
2) If they hadn’t been reckless in the first place, this wouldn’t have cussin’ been an issue (see: a) don’t turn your back on the ocean b) stay out of the ocean pretty much Oct-April in Oregon and Washington c) why don’t you ever listen to me? You don’t see sneaker waves getting mommy, do you, now? d) aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaargggggggggh)
3) they now have new sweatpants (thank you, overpriced gift shop!) and really awesome matching bright red sweatshirts and T-shirts. Hockey God’s says:

Cannon Beach
Established 1890
Oregon
Search & Rescue
Mouth to Mouth Certified

(which is hilarious! because he’s not.)

Jr.’s says:

Cannon Beach Oregon
Beach Patrol
Off-Duty
Save Yourself

That is more fitting somehow, no? Anyway, I don’t think I really should have rewarded them with a way to commemorate the whole cussin’ thing, but they were both nearly-drowned rats, I had to get them some warm stuff to wear. And no, I didn’t punch Hockey God in the face. On the one hand, I’m glad that he and the kids take some risks, live a little, blah blah blah. But there’s being adventuresome, and then there’s being unnecessarily reckless. I hugged my son, and told him, “You, I care about. Daddy, I don’t.”

My daughter: “Mom! That is not very nice!”
My husband: “You really are the meanest wife.” (looks worried.) “Are you going to punch me now?” (offers up his arm.) “Here! Punch me here! Just get it over with.”

I cried a little, then I calmed down and told my husband that if one of my kids (mine, not his, just mine. Cuz I’m the one who carried them for nine months, nursed them and kept them alive, they’re my babies til the day I die, mine, mine, mine) ends up harmed or worse because of his recklessness, then he had better go ahead and drown himself before he comes home. Cuz I can’t guarantee his safety.

That’s fair, isn’t it?

OK. Deep breaths.

— wm