The CLAW

Happy Birthday, Superman!

My middle son, code name Superman, is obsessed with the arcade game, 'the CLAW'. He talks about not being able to resist playing if there are coins jingling in his pocket, even though he says he knows, with his head, that it is a scam. He says he just can't stop his heart from wanting to play.

Today is his eighth birthday, so we got him a table top version of the CLAW, equipped with fake coins and all. I'm hoping that he'll get all the joy and none of the heartache from the home version. Not to say this version is easy. But it is doable. And free.

Writing is my claw game. I work so hard at it, and rarely come up with that gem. That phrase, or idea which I know is gold.

Or, in this case, the tootsie roll. :)

I have been mining my mind the last couple of days, and came up with some great gems which will enhance my current work in progress. I haven't been actually writing, since I've also been dealing with a migraine. 

I was picking up Superman's cake, when I started to feel the brain confusion. Which meant that I had a very short amount of time to get home before I couldn't see enough to drive. Then things start going numb, and the headache and nausea set in.

Right now, I feel like my brain is missing some key elements. But I feel so much better, and I know this will pass. Of all the things that people suffer with, the things that people don't feel whole from within a few days, I feel lucky.

And, I'm surrounded my children who take care of me, a husband who comes home and takes care of our kids (and our kids' friends too) and me, and who cooks and cleans, and keeps things running when I can't.

Tomorrow I'll feel whole.

And, then, I'll start to work the CLAW again.

How about you? Do you have any weakness for a carnival game which you know stack the odds against you? Does your heart rule your head? How is your writing life going? Has your claw plucked out any gems recently? And--do you have any magic wands for migraines?

And please be sure to stop by on Friday, for a special holiday edition of my Friday Feature interviews, where we talk with the vibrant writer, Daniel McInerny, about his charming Middle Grade books about the Kingdom of Patria.  

At Least You Don't Have Burrito On YOUR Face

Let me set the stage for you. Wintertime in New England. A gravel walkway, preventing us from ever completely clearing the snow. An abnormally fluctuating temperature, beginning a cycle of melting and freezing of that walkway snow. Then, a freakishly warm night and morning, complete with a rain storm. Now the walkway is covered by an inch of snow, two inches of ice, and an inch of water. Perhaps the slickest surface on all of Mother Earth.

But. We're not ready to brave that front walkway yet. Just know, it's out there, waiting. No, first we have to make ourselves very late for our walk to school. We have forgotten a museum field trip for Superman, and now, upon remembering, have to repack his lunch in only disposable containers. Then, we fix him his second breakfast. You see, Superman lost weight in the fall from a bout of swine flu (yes, really!), and so now we feed him all sorts of fatty foods at every turn. This morning, a burrito. Which he eats from the end of a fork. Meat on a stick. For breakfast. Yum.

Now, time to race out onto the front walkway. Does this sound like a good idea? Racing out onto the slickest surface on the face of the earth? Well, hindsight is twenty-twenty. But in the brain of a mom, trying to get her kids out to school (and a field trip) on time, the 'hurry' synaptic connection is the only one firing.

So, we race out, supporting Superman by the back of his jacket, and we slide across that skating rink. Superman loses his balance. His feet fly out. His hands jerk back. His feet slide back to support him. He doesn't fall (he's Superman, after all). But the burrito flies from the fork. Splits in mid air. And lands squarely on my head.

Erica talked about this a few weeks ago at her blog. No--not burritos in the face. But the Perfect Storm. The perfect intersection of circumstance, personality, and past that makes your novel ripe to happen.

The set-up for me to be standing in my front yard, burrito meat dripping down my face, and watching my neighbors walk past, trotting their kids off to school, was indeed, a perfect storm.


Things that conspired against me that morning:
The physical landscape.
The weather--repeatedly.
My son's earlier illness.
My switch to writing in the morning, which made us a few minutes behind our normal schedule.
My son's field trip plans that day, which which made us even later.
My son's sensory quirks, which makes him someone who wants to eat his burrito on a fork.
My mommy personality which makes me want to protect my son from falling on the ice.



What conspires against your characters, until they have burrito on their faces?

Santa's Helpers

I hope this puts your mind at ease.

Superman and Cowgirl are guiding Santa this year.

Happy Hanukkah!

Happy Hanukkah everyone!

And on a side note--Superman already made his plea for one of his parents to convert this year (just one--nobody wants to give up Christmas). Eight nights of gifts? What could be better than that? And the dreidel game is always a big winner.

So, I responded with my stock answer--let's learn a bit more about the Jewish faith. And when I reminded them who in our family celebrates Hanukkah, it seemed to make things worse. Like my kids are SO close to celebrating two gift-giving holidays...but don't.

I'm looking forward to our family traditions--cookies and driving around to see holiday lights, caroling and pageants. New PJs at Christmas Eve, and lots of family. What holiday traditions are you looking forward to?

Superman

So, today I walked my middle child to his first day of kindergarten. Needless to say, I'm a wreck. I have spent most of the last five years helping him pursue safe activities. Last night he brought a stepping stool into the water-filled bath, so he could reach up high. He has been known to walk to his best friend's house, without shoes on, in the snow, at six in the morning. (His best friend's mom just calmly sits him in front of the TV, calls me, and waits for me to wake up and come get him.) He watches TV upside-down, balancing on his head. He believes he is Superman.

He looked so little, and a bit lost today, lining up with the other five-year-olds. I was tearful. He turned to me, and I knew it was coming. The 'take me home, mommy.' I wouldn't cry in front of him. I would be a supportive parent, give him a hug, and hold his hand all the way to the classroom. I bent down to give his anxiety proper weight, and looked in his eyes.

He said, "So, when school's done, are you going to just come and pick me up, or should I give you a call?"

Okay, he is superman. I hope his teacher is too. I am fully prepared for him to walk into the house, full stride, in the middle of the school day. I am expecting frantic calls from the school. I am prepared for every feeling except this knot in my stomach, which lets me know that I was not ready yet to let go. But, I'm not sure I ever would be.

It makes me feel as though I might never feel ready to send out my ms. I'm still revising, so it's not a huge issue now, but if I had my druthers, I'm not sure I would have sent my son to school today. A couple more years of preschool couldn't have hurt. Not because he's not ready for kindergarten, clearly, but because I'm not. Not ready to let go of this amazing creature that has required so much from me, and given me so much in return.

Will I feel the same fear and anxiety about my literary child? I hope not. But I wonder, how do you know when your child is ready, when you are not?