The morning was actually calm! Yes, thank you man up above.
The afternoon? An unfortunate horror that plagued my husband and I in -1F weather.
First I would like to begin on what I observed this morning, even with Lily behaving she still finds a way to be demonic.
I stood in the kitchen this morning, sipping from my cup of coffee. Lily walks by me, into the kitchen, "Hi, mommy." Seems innocent enough, "Morning, Lily."
She gets on her little pink and purple Radio Flyer tricycle and starts riding in a large circle around her table and chair set. No problems there.
She kind of went into her own world as she slowly pushed the peddles, easing into the corners.Then, she started singing to herself, "La La La La..." She looked up on me with the evilest smile I have ever seen.
Now I would like to believe when I call her demonic it's only in joking and fun. Not this morning, she looked like she was trying out for the next Damion horror movie. "La La La La." As the wheels of the tricycle squeaks in motion.
Mental note: sleep with one eye open tonight.
Now the horror that we went through was a pure accident from Izzy. Your sick, your sick. I will just reiterate the obvious.
I must of been evil in a former life...
We brought the kids over to see my mother. Now, Izzy was fine for most of the morning. It wasn't until she was walking to the car that she began whining, "Mom, I don't feel good." Well, Lily got to play with grandma for the afternoon before we were on our way to the grocery store, then home. Now Izzy wasn't too happy at grandma's, and wasn't too happy at the store, either. I paid with my bankcard and we headed out in the -1 degree weather, to the car. After putting the kids in, my husband and I hurried to get the groceries in the trunk.
Izzy began screaming at the top of her lungs in the car. We both ran to the back seat, ripping open the doors.
If it wasn't for the fact that my tears would of instantly froze, I probably would of cried my eyes out. She had projectile vomited all over the back seat and all in the brand new toy and pull up bag. I applauded my husband for instantly removing her out of the car, as she wasn't finished. I ran to her side while my husband runs back in for paper towels. That's when it occurred to me, I was in such a rush, I used the wrong bankcard. Congratulations, I just went negative in my account, and it was to late in the day to fix it. Thank you thirty-five dollar overdraft fee.
Now I am rubbing Izzy's back (upset over the bank situation) ,while she is holding the shopping carriage carousel, vomiting her brains out. A grandmother type walks past, eyeing the location of where the heaving sound emanated. I smiled and waved. This was my life, and the end result of a vacation to Jamaica 5 1/2 yrs ago. Yay me.
She finally finishes, having no choice but to put her in the front seat while I figured out where to begin cleaning. Now, keep in mind, it is -1 degree outside, and I am pulling out wet wipes trying to do mess control. The wipes were frozen like a sheet of ice as I was trying to clean the mess, which was already frozen as well. My husband comes back out with towels and shopping bags, while I am trying to clean off frozen bi-product from the toy bag with a frozen wipe. I think he realized my sanity was frozen as well. "Honey, it's frozen, it's not coming off." I looked up at him, then down to the frozen bag. What the heck was I doing?
My hands were frozen and in extreme pain, I had a wipe stuck to it. Life couldn't get any better than this. I shoved everything I could in the plastic bags and threw them in the trunk, wanting just to get home asap. You know that feeling when your hands are going through hypothermia and then start to warm up, pain right? I sat in the passenger seat with my hands by the window, trying to keep them away from the heat pumping in the car for the kids.
Another three extra showers later...
Your probably thinking that writing is the last thing on my mind. After all, the kids alone are a full time job, how can someone take on another large task. As I am sure all other writers know, when you love something as much as I love writing, you find ways. From the moment I wake up to the moment I lay back in my bed, I think about how to make my novel sing. Is it something I would want to read? Does it make sense? Is it interesting enough to keep my attention?
Don't get me wrong, it's not as simple as taking the time to write, and going on about your day as usual. Somethings have to be sacrificed to make it work. My poor husband, who I love to death and beyond. If you ask him if we ever spend time together he will say it consist of us being in the same room, but me with the computer and ear plugs in. The ability to be able to relax and unwind does not happen, either. By the time the kids are in bed and I get a chapter done, it is 2 am and I have to go to sleep, so I can wake up to do it again. It is not something to take lightly. Even when I am in the hospital ( I have been very ill), I take the computer with me to work on my novel. Typing away as I have iv's going in every which direction.
You know what thought keeps me going? The dream to see that finished novel on the shelf. The sense of accomplishment that I finally have done something for me, it is enough to keep me writing each and everyday.
I will be happy to say that the goal of 121 pages has been met. I have written 123 pages! Thank you, Thank you.
Goal by the end of today: 128 pages complete by the end of today, Jan, 26.
Like Bob the Builder, "Can (s)he build it? Yes (s)he can!"