My Best Day

I'm working on a book that is part of a series of collections of "best days." The author, permanently disabled, wrote to celebrities, sports figures, astronauts and so on, asking them what their best day was. The answers varied, but many said it was the day they married or the day(s) their children were born.

I worked on the first book of the series back in 1997, before I was married or had children. I wondered then if the answers were really honest. Was the day they got married their best day? Or did they just feel as though they had to say that? Same with the birth of their kids, was that really their best day or was it something far more self-related, but they weren't brave enough to say so?

Every time I work on one of these books I tell myself I'm going to stop and really think what my very best day was ... search my memory banks and come up with something that was truly my very, very best day ever. Because I'm sure I can come up with something better than they did, something more interesting.

Wouldn't you know it—sure enough, with the absolute joy they bring to my life, hands down, my very, very best days ever were the days my two sons were born. The best month of my life? When I got married. From the week before the wedding, through our three week honeymoon, the absolute best time I've ever had. Whaddya know?

Missin' My Boy

My Frankie is at Grandma's for a couple of days and he is sorely missed around here. Nothing seems the same without his non-stop chatter and editorializing. Beckett has been wandering the house calling for "Ba" which seems to be his name for his brother. Thankfully he will be home tomorrow, although it will be at least two more days before "our" Frankie returns. He will come home from his visit to Grandma's house tired and peevish.

I'm so thankful each of my boys have been "schedule" kids. Both slept through the night relatively early and were/are consistent nappers. Beckett takes morning and afternoon naps and then sleeps from 7:30 until 6:30 every night. It is always evident when they don't get enough sleep because they're just not themselves, and that's when peevish comes to play. Probably true for mom too, and as I'm faced with a late night of work, I would imagine it will be an all-around peevish house tomorrow.

Frank heard on the news that there had been an earthquake in Indonesia. He asked Grandma to call me and said, "Mama—did you have an earthquake there?" I hadn't been paying much attention, but I didn't think so and asked him if they had felt one. (Grandma lives about forty miles from us.) He said they hadn't, but he heard the newscaster say there was an earthquake on Sumatra. I explained we did live on Sumatra, but the street, not the island. He said, "Oh, I get it now." Evidently Grandma had explained the same thing, but if he thinks for even a split second that someone isn't being completely straight with him, he has to run it by mama to confirm.

I can't wait until he's back home.

And it was . . .

I was ready long before either of them.

1. Grab the nearest book.
2. Open the book to page 23.
3. Find the fifth sentence.
4. Post the text of the sentence in your journal along with these instructions.

Page 23, Fifth Sentence

All day I've been searching for the book challenge thing, not noticing I had comments. And thanks to Roger, that which has perplexed me has been found! Wow. And thanks.

My Boys

I have two boys, Frank and Beckett. Frank is five and Beckett is thirteen months. They are perfect beautiful boys who make sense of my life. And no matter what angst fills my day, it dissipates with one smile from either of them.

Testing 1-2-3

I learned about blogging three years ago from my friend Allan. Who or which introduced me (as in led me to), Halley Suitt's blog. I wonder how many blogs Halley should be given credit for inspiring. Mine would be counted among them.

I've read hundreds. And continue to. Inspiration and envy. So here I am too.

3:21AM

Monday morning. I've been up since 12:13AM, when the alarm clock in my boys' room went off for no apparent reason. Best guess is Beckett hit a button. I'd like to say being awake at this hour is unusual, but I can't. Sound asleep and something wakes me up at say 12:30, 1:30, 2:30, all AM and that's it. I'm up. Usually it's something with Frank or Beckett. Or a brilliant idea (or dilemma-solution) I allow myself to overthink. Or, yes, worrying about something, someone, some problem, some undone item on some to-do list. Obsessed perfectionist? Yes.

I'll be exhausted tomorrow. But this is simply the way it is and I've learned to live with it. Typically I'll get really tired again around 5:00-5:30, sleep a little, wake up at 6:56, the nanny (manny: male nanny: CJ) arrives at 7:00 so I have four minutes to shower, dress and look like I've got my s--t together. (Obsessed perfectionist remember?) OR, I get a ridiculous amount of work done and start the day with everything finished. Thereby 6:00AM feels like noon and when 7:00AM rolls around, I drive everyone crazy because I've been rarin' to go for hours and don't understand why they are still groggy.

I've got two books to start, and finish today. (And no, it won't happen, it isn't physically possible.) One is about affirmative action. The other is about a family who had to live under a trailer or motorhome (I'm not sure why not "in" because I haven't read it yet.) Evidently, according to the publisher, the under-the-motorhome story will make a great screenplay. We'll see. Out of the 100 books I design a year, very few live up to the hype. But then that's true of just about everything isn't it?

Then, two newsletters to design; some printing quotes to get; invoicing; and modifications to an old book that is due for a second edition. So I really have no business doing "this" when I'm up this early rather than "that."

Oh, and, take my mother home who has been visiting for a month; no not a month, four days, but you know what I mean. And, the five-year-old (Frank) is on Easter break. Since Frank goes to a private Lutheran elementary school, it is called Easter break and it does take place immediately following Easter as opposed to "ski break," or "spring break" which can occur anytime within six weeks on either side of Easter. Frank will go home with Grandma for a couple of days as is his fondest desire. Leaving Beckett (13 months) home alone with mama and dada.

I ran across something the other day when I was perusing blogs. It related to a book challenge of some sort. Go to a certain page in a book you are currently reading, like 325 (although that doesn't make sense since not all books are typically that long), and then go to a certain line (like the 5th or 15th); and then determine whatever that line means in your life. Or something like that. Anyway, I went back to try to find it, because I obviously cannot recollect the details, and I can't find it. Figures. I suppose I could just do it anyway, make up my own rules. BUT, see the first paragraph (o.p. remember?)

Later I'm going to practice adding links to the blog. All of this is new to me. I've resisted the whole web design thing. Shamefully, it is only because I don't "feel" like learning how to do it. Isn't that terrible? And even telling myself it's terrible, doesn't make me do it.

What's this? I'm tired. Hmmm, may have to try to sleep now. Maybe I've found the cure! Blogging.

Always Late to the Party

This is my first attempt at blogging, and I'm happy to be here. Wondering as many seem to be, what I want to do when I, and we, grow up and I am no longer an always-needed mommy. The thing is, my boys are five and three-quarters and thirteen months—I've always been an advance-planner. My latest mind-meanders have led me to consider writing, more. As a book designer and sometimes editor, and bookaholic, I yearn to write rather than read. Yearn, as a word, covers so much doesn't it?

I've been reading blogs religiously for a couple of years, envying how bravely some communicate. And finally now, am ready to begin. I would imagine this will become more of a journal for me than anything else. Does everyone think this when they begin a blog?

Regardless, it becomes both an item to cross off my list and an item to add. I go from needing to start to needing to post. Why am I nervous?