Out of sorts

Every day this week has been a struggle.

My kids are on a mission to make me certifiably insane. You think I'm kidding? Yes? Think again. Chicken started running a fever on Monday. Sinus crud. Still not convinced there's not some food rotting in his sinus cavity that we'll have to have surgery for.

Punky has been extra whiny and I have no idea what her deal is.

Cupcake is teething AND is going to have to have surgery to open up a clogged tear duct in the near future. But I'm not too worried about it, supposedly it's only a 5-10 minute surgery.

Not only that, but my energy level is next to nothing. I can barely hold my head up during the day. And if one person mentions the "P" word I'll hunt you down like a dog. I'm not pregnant!!! I think I might be getting a little anemic or something. Lot's of headaches, lots of irritability, lots of yuckiness. I've drastically cut back on our red meat and my lack of iron intake is probably the culprit.

At any rate, I just don't want to do anything but sit or sleep.

I also got a few rejections on my newest MS. No big deal, to be honest. The only thing is one of the agents gave me some much appreciated advice to lengthening my story. It's only at 45K (5K less than I thought it was, too!)so I'm literally going to have to double it. Not an easy feat! I've been pretty bummed about that, too.

Sooo, sorry I haven't been around for awhile. Can't say I will be posting with any regularity, either until things start going a little better. hopefully this post finds you feeling well and excited about the weekend!

Dear Christa,

I haven't seen you in EIGHT years. Eight. My wedding day was the last time. We've talked MAYBE 3 or 4 times in those eight years. Before that, we were friends for 15 years, from the first day of kindergarten to that fateful day in college when I had to force you from my dorm room because I didn't agree with your choices.

You've become a recluse.

You've become someone I don't know.

You've become someone I don't WANT to know.

Imagine my surprise when you actually called me and wanted to see me while I was at my parents house in GA, where we grew up. I eagerly agreed, anxious to see what you made of your life. I jumped in the car with you and you took me to your apartment while my children slept at my parents house.

Imagine my surprise when I walked in and your garage apartment was little more than a rat hole, reeking of cat urine and hadn't been cleaned since the day you moved in. I tried not to let my disgust show. My disgust was directed more at how much you changed, not necessarily the uncleanliness itself. When I knew you before, you complained because I left dirty dishes in the sink in our dorm. You hated filth.

Imagine my surprise when your boyfriend showed up with a case of sprite in - what I assume - was a peace offering for me, the "holy roller." After a few minutes, the beer came out and my panic set in. You had to drive me home to my children.

Then it happened. I saw your boyfriend hand you something that you kept close to your side. A few moments later you said, "Yes, I still smoke marijuana and I'm going to do it front of you." You took a hit and then your boyfriend did the same. I later described this device you used and my step-dad told me it sounded more like a crack or meth pipe. Considering you had aged 20 years in 8, it doesn't surprise me. And also considering your cousin is on the drug task force and you freely admitted to me he was onto to you, I don't believe it was just marijuana. Just because I've never once in my life been around that kind of thing (save the few times you've brought it around me), I'm not stupid.

I'm so angry at you. We hadn't seen each other in 8 years and your desire to get high overrode your need to see me, someone who used to be your best friend. You're so addicted you didn't think of my sleeping children and the fact you had to get behind the wheel with their mother with you. Hind sight is 20/20 and I should have simply walked out, called my family to come get me and never look back. Instead, I stupidly sat in your car as you drove, drunk and high, with my fists clenched and a continual prayer for my safety and my children's flowing through my mind.

You hugged me when we pulled into the driveway, sobbing about the past and our friendship. Do you even realize how unhappy you are? Do you even care? Did you not want more for yourself than a rat hole garage apartment and a life full of fuzzy memories? Does the temporary escape of being high mean more to you than a life filled with permanent joy and happiness? Have you not learned from your dying father, who spent his whole life doing exactly what you're doing now, that a life full of these things doesn't amount to anything in the end?

I wonder what you saw when you looked at me. Did you see the judgmental holy roller you used to deem me? Did the fact that I told you to take me home the second I realized what you had leave an impression? When I told you I had children to think about now, did you think twice about your choices? Did it even dawn on you that if I had been caught with the two of you doing whatever it was you were doing, my own life could have been ruined, and by association, my family's?

You didn't think of anyone but yourself.

One day, I'm not going to be angry at you for wasting your life away. One day, I'll sit down and cry for that smart girl I grew up with who always made me laugh. I'll sob for the third grader who stood next to me and sang Madonna's Like a Prayer with me to our entire class. I'll wish that your dreams of going to SCAD and becoming a writer and artist would have happened. And I'll wish that you had never agreed to go to college with me because that's where you met all of those people who made you who you are today.

But not now. Right now I'm too angry.

And when you asked me if I was still going to call you? Remember how I didn't answer? The answer is no. I prefer to remember you as you were 10 years ago.

Someone I wasn't ashamed of.

Kids now days

Do YOU remember getting nothing but plastic eggs filled with candy for easter? I tell ya, that was a rare treat if I got those. I haven't even SEEN the hardboiled ones really since my kids have been big enough to hunt eggs. Maybe this is because I have young children who will inevitably squoosh a real egg between their chubby fingers, but bottom line? Kids now days are spoiled rotten.

And maybe even the parents because I didn't want the mess of hard boiled eggs with a 3 and 2 year old AND I wanted the candy probably as much as they did. See the picture below? Yup, Chicken found the REAL meaning of easter...

The End

So on Monday, I typed two precious, wonderful words. THE END.

I felt elated. I felt awesome. I felt complete.

I felt FREAKED OUT! What on earth do I do now? Edits? Sure! Rewrites? Sure! Submit to agents...WHAT?!

I think that step and that step alone is the main reason I have about 4 finished novels and haven't done anything with them. I too afraid to submit. I'm not afraid of rejection. I've been rejected by about 8 agents (the few I've actually submitted to). I don't expect to be like Nicholas Sparks and get a million dollar advance for my first book (but wouldn't that be niiiiice?!).

My main concern is wondering if I'd be ready for the demanding lifestyle I hear being an author is. I quit my job to stay with my kids. If I was to get published now or even in a few years, that would take valuable time away from them. I don't know...it's all so scary to think about.

Not that I'm presumptuous enough to think I'm good enough to get published right now, but it's something that's always on my mind when I type THE END.

Anywho, thank all of you who have supported me and have offered to read it for me. I hope to complete it by June 1 and have it out to those of you who are going to beta read it. I look forward to your feedback!

Rock on!

Tonight at dinner, Punky, Chicken and I were all watching TV (I know, I'm a horrible mother, but at least we were all at the same table...the TV just happened to be in sight.). A picture of our president came on and I heard Punky saying, "Barrrack Obaaaama." I instantly get tickled...mainly because I've only taught the kid who he was ONCE (and only once...I'm hoping his name will be all she remembers!). I said, "What did you say, Punky?"

She gets all shy on me and refuses to say it again.

I urge her to tell me.

She looks at me with a grin and says:

Can you teach Chicken how to say Rocker Bama?

Goodbye Old Friend

I said goodbye to a friend last night. One I've known for over half my life. Go here to see it.

I won't admit that I cried like a baby during the one hour "15 year history" but didn't cry at the end of the actual show. I also won't admit that I really do feel like I have a hole in my heart this morning, especially since it's all over the news this morning.

For those of you who don't know me, I hate change. Especially when it's something I've been invested in for so long. But it's just a TV show, I know you're saying. Well, it's the ONLY TV show I had to see. I mean, I won't even work out on Thursdays. If we go somewhere, I MUST be home by 9. It was so sad to see it end.

A lot of people moved on to Grey's Anatomy. I tried watching it but it just wasn't the same, not to mention I felt like I was cheating on ER, ha! Michael Creighton was an amazing author and creator and I can only hope to create something so wonderful one day. I don't see myself envisioning a Jurassic Park, but he was great at emotion. He passed away this year from cancer.

So, I'm hoping this new show taking ER's place, Southland, captures my attention...otherwise, Thursdays at 9 pm will be a sad time!