in which I totally break the rules

Remember chain letters?  Facebook does something kind of like that, only with question and answer games.  And instead of being promised thirty-six pages of stickers when it's over (or any hint of being doomed if you don't participate), it just promises that you'll learn new things about your facebook friends.  They're usually pretty entertaining, although I've never done one myself.  I figure blogging is enough talking about myself for one cyberworld - and twitter and all the sites I use for work.  Anyway, I also get hung up on the part where you have to tag people.  But there have been two I couldn't resist.  I played them but never posted them, and now I'm going to use my blog to exercise all kinds of "self-indulgent drivel" as Simon would say, and post the answers I want to.  

The first asked questions that you answered by the title of whichever iTunes song came up next when set on random.  That was a fun one, but most of the answers I think are only fun to me - after all, these are songs I've chosen because they mean something to me.  The answer to, "What is your life's purpose?", for instance, was The Way I Am and to "What is your life story?" - Made to Worship.  I did NOT like the answer to "What do your parents think of you?" (When Did You Fall) nor the song that will be played at my funeral, Happy Day.  :)  Feel free to refute the former, Mom.

I also couldn't resist the questions that your children were supposed to answer for you.  Some of these were awesome.  John's answers are first in black, Drew's in blue - the same order as their picture above.  (They're 9 and 7):

What was your mom like as a little girl?

A little girl.  Kind, nice.

If your mom becomes famous, what will it be for?

An actor or selling books.  Writing thousands and billions of books.

I couldn't believe they know exactly what I do for a job:

Works on a computer, works for this thing to persuade college students to go to these different places.  Works on the computer and entertains people by making them want to go different places like New York, and writing books.

What is your mom's favorite food?

Chicken chimichanga (correct).  Chicken fajita. (close)

What makes you proud of your mom?

She chases her dreams.  That she loves me.

If your mom were a cartoon character, who would she be?

Bugs Bunny - you're funny and you're smart.  Mrs. Bohon. (I will in the future consider this the identity of a super - like Mrs. Incredible.)

What do you and your mom do together?

We talk with each other a lot.  Talk by writing.

How are you and your mom the same?

Our eye color is the same.  We both love each other.

How are you and your mom different?

She has a job, and I don't.  I'm a boy, and she's a girl - I mean, WO-man.

How do you know your mom loves you?

She tells me that every day.  Because every night she kisses me and says, "I love you."

What does your mom like most about your dad?

He's funny and handsome.  They've known each other for a long time.

What is your mom's favorite place to go?

They BOTH answered, "Mexican restaurants."  Which reminds me that I'm hungry.

***

I am especially proud at how often I tell them I love them and John's completely awesome answer to what makes him proud of me.  The itunes answer to the question, "What do you want right now?" was, Better Life.  There could not be a more inaccurate answer than that.

(Although I do love that song because of how much I relate to it!  Ah, the complexities of any one person.)

most exciting thing that ever exited a furniture truck outside my door

Important update to to the category of what I'm looking forward to most:  He's going to SING AND DANCE.  Hugh Jackman, I mean.  (pictured here by edison0618 on Flickr).  I heard it from his own mouth.  (Although not technically in person of course).  I stand firmly in the camp that believes almost any program - or, you know, moment in LIFE - is improved by a song and dance number.  I'd rather watch a really cheesy Nick-and-Jessica type variety show than song-less, monotonous reality t.v. any day.  So I have officially put this as number one - okay, maybe second to the montages - on my list. The Oscars are going to rock this year; I can feel it.

In other what-I-watched-while-recuperating-from-a-cold news, I saw The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants sequel the other day.  There was a great moment where America Ferrera's character talked about the delicious language used in the play she was rehearsing for.  She complained at how lazy we are now - how much prettier phrases were then and how much richer it felt to speak that way.  "Why don't people talk like that anymore?" she wailed.  I loved that part.  I love the idea that if we would just stop and savor the little things in life a little more, our lives would be so much richer.  We tend to live through life rather than in it sometimes. And I love it when a book or a movie suggests that we stop and take it in a bit. The  National Treasure movies have some great lines like that too, which brings me to my little Hollywood gem for the day.

Do you ever find yourself vaguely remembering a movie line?  You know it moved you, but you can't quite remember what it was.  Let me introduce you to (as if you didn't already know) a little thing called IMDB - the Internet Movie Database.  You know you can find out who was in what film there, but you can also find a wealth of great movie quotes.  The page is called "Memorable Quotes" for each movie, so I usually get there by typing that phrase and the movie title into a search engine.  You'll be spouting poetic in no time.  

In honor of living life richly, allow me to cyber-celebrate a little gift I received yesterday from The Man himself:  This dark wooden rectangle of wonderful, our new table.

We have never in our married life bought ourselves a table.  Hand-me-downs work just as well for eating on.  Only I so don't believe that now.  This glorious piece of furniture has officially become the centerpiece for my lucky life.  I touch it every time I walk by.  We christened it last night with company and everything - company I would have the previous night seated in the living room with a t.v. tray rather than sit at our chipped wooden table with the hard, flat decades-old benches.

I'm working on the song and dance routine as we speak.

cupcakes in manhattan

If you're one of those people who can't understand why people care when celebrities leave their homes and what they wear and which beaches they frequent, then you probably won't understand this.  But I have a tiny obsession with Katie Holmes and Suri Cruise.  It started because Katie was pregnant with Suri the same time I was pregnant with Jake.  And I kept hearing about the expensive layettes Katie bought and the two thousand dollar bassinet she purchased twice for different parts of the house, etc., etc.  Then not long after our babies were born, Tom and Katie got married, and I read of the designer gowns made just for little Suri and saw pictures of the castle they were married in.  Around that time I was holding Jake in my arms and looking out our big, sunshiny window onto the pretty street outside, and I asked him, "Would you be happier if your home were more like Suri's?"

He was way too young to answer me in words.  But I've never been more sure of anything than I was of his response.  

Now I still enjoy the pictures of Katie and Suri taking on Manhattan with Suri's adorable little dresses and Katie's cute mom-crop.  I loved the one recently where they were sharing cupcakes, because I'd read of Katie's love for them long before Suri was born.  I try not to think of their lives as better than mine - but just kind of parallel, with a lot more cameras around.  It's been over a year since the last paparazzi shot of Jake and I - this one above while watching the homecoming parade in our small town.  And I don't think it really counts as paparazzi when the guy gets you to sign a release afterwards.  It's not exactly cupcakes in Manhattan, but it was our life, and we were totally starring in it.

Have you seen The Holiday?  Because this is the perfect time for yet another life-altering movie quote:

Arthur:  Iris, in the movies we have leading ladies and we have the best friend.  You, I can tell, are a leading lady, but for some reason you are behaving like the best friend.

Iris:  You're so right.  You're supposed to be the leading lady of your own life, for God's sake!

I'm thinking all those great movie lines we quoted last week - if we apply them - can help us play the leading roles in our own lives.  It's taken a while, but at this point I don't watch the celebrities because I wish I were them.  I don't watch them for their clothes or their bags or their shoes or their shoe closets.  I watch them because bits and pieces of their lives are just exactly like ours, and it's fun to see that celebrated and photographed and put in a shiny magazine.  Did you see Brad and Angelina navigating the airport with six kids?  The next time you walk out the mundane - imagine a photographer cares.  It could totally elevate the experience for you - and remind you who's playing the lead. 

I have the best idea for the next season of Survivor

I went to Wal-Mart on the Saturday before Christmas.

These are the words of an insane person.  Except that I survived it, which makes me a conquerer.  Except I came out limping and crying, which makes me ridiculous.

I went in cheerful.  Just be calm, I told myself.  Just a few gifts to pick up.  You already know what they are.  The crowds are just other people full of Christmas spirit.  The carts are not attacking you.  But.  It.  Wore.  Me.  Down.  

It's my fault really, because I wore ridiculous shoes.  I don't know why I do that.  (Yes I do.  It's the whole life is too short thing.)  And I wasn't prepared for the check-out lanes.  They were almost my undoing.  After picking up my last item and rounding the corner for the check-out lanes, which may as well have been heaven itself, I saw the lines and gasped the dying breath of a mad woman.  I bought Advil, a candy bar, and a Diet Coke while in line.  Plus read an entire magazine, alphabetized the gifts I'd bought, had a long chat with my mother, and flossed.  (Okay, only the mom one is true between Diet Coke and flossing).  When I finally made it through, boosted only slightly by the fact that the check-out woman's day was going to be way worse than mine, I limped and sloshed my way through the filthy slush, threw my stuff into the car, walked the cart about a half-mile back to the cart-retriever place like the marathon runner finishing the final leg, and collapsed behind the wheel, hugging it like it was one of my children.

One crazy thing I noticed over and over, though, in every aisle, three layers deep - was that people were seriously happy.  I didn't run into one single person who wasn't smiling despite the chaos, and I'm pretty sure most of us were smiling because of it.  I mean, don't get me wrong.  I am not casually saving ANY of my shopping until that late next year if I can help it in any way, but still.  Even as we commiserated with each other and rubbed our temples and questioned our intelligence (only our own - no one challenged the intelligence of anyone else), we wished each other Merry Christmas and thoroughly, not-just-because-at-least-it-has-to-beat-this-day, meant it.  This is what I love about humanity.  

(Aside:  I'm putting up another picture from our family photo night, because I really kind of like this one but didn't end up using it.  I like Jake's crooked pose, the way he and Drew have matching gaps, and my poofy hair from having jumped into the chaos.)

But anyway, next year I plan to get all gushy towards humanity on the Saturday before Christmas by sitting in my own home in front of my gorgeous tree and just think about how great humanity can be.  I'll probably even smile at the thought of all those poor suckers discovering humanity the hard way.  

Happy Monday, everyone!  It's a happy one because there are only three more sleeps 'til Christmas.  (Which reminds me, Guy-on-the-phone-with-your-significant-other, you don't know me, but I met you in every other aisle of the toy section about twelve times - each time you were talking on the phone trying to figure what in the world to buy.  Please tell me you found something from that child's list you were talking about.  I was so moved by the fact that you were there, taking those toy aisle laps like a trouper, keeping your infant calm, and especially that you didn't cuss once.  Merry Christmas.)

not always what you picture

We had a little trouble capturing a Christmas card this year.  I wouldn't expect one if I were you.  Doesn't Drew (in the middle) look like he's starting a modeling career though?  Check out that perfect uncaring pout.  And believe me, it's a pose.  He was in a perfectly good mood here.  It was Jake's mood that threw things off, as evidenced in the second picture here in which Michael is holding Jake's teary face toward the camera.  Merry Christmas, indeed.

I can get kind of upset about things not turning out as I'd like them to.  But, I don't know, this year I just love these pictures.  And not like you love those blooper pictures that you try for - you know, "Now everyone look silly!"  No, these are seriously unfortunate pictures.  Not a one of them turned out pretty.  And I didn't care.  I was really tired that night.  But I find that today - when I'll probably choose the least appalling one and upload it to Walgreens - I still don't care.  

What I care about is how much we laugh together, whether or not we're understanding each other and focusing on the same important things in life, whether or not the kids feel loved.  You can't put that stuff in a Christmas picture.

So I gave up early on the picture-taking that night.  Between each shot, I swear, they were rolling around on the floor wrestling - arms and legs flailing, Jake getting cheered up by not being forced to perform for Pete's sake!  And then I would just click the timer on the camera and yell okay and they'd plop themselves into some sort of seated position while I squeezed into the mayhem.  After a few shots, I just got tired of stopping the fun.  

Christmas won't be perfect for any of us this year probably.  We'll cut corners and hang fewer lights and buy smaller presents.  With the chaotic pace of life, sometimes Christmas isn't as poetic as we want it to be.  The night I put up the nativity I found that with three small boys it's not as easy to capture the solemnity of the moment as we always did with Mom.  I ended up getting the box down and yelling to various rooms, "Everybody get in here!  Linus is telling the Christmas story, and we're all going to sit here and watch it!"  So they did.  And then they snatched at the shepherd and wise men and baby Jesus and plopped them on the shelf with excitement nowhere near solemnity.

And last night I had it in mind to watch It's a Wonderful Life.  I was determined it was the only way I could go to bed happy.  But we all went to the Y instead.  I took a yoga class, John had basketball practice, Jake found that heaven is a rec center play room.  We were there way too late to watch a movie afterwards.  And an evening at the Y is such a different picture than an evening in front of Jimmy Stewart with chocolate and angels getting their wings and such.  I mean we ended the night playing Ms. Pacman and Galaga for goodness sake.  

You just can't decide ahead of time what life is supposed to look like - even Christmas - and only be happy with that.  It's like our Christmas card I guess.  I'd rather live a great picture than take one.

the gap ad you've been waiting for

So I've had a little trouble capturing the gap.  Here's Jake getting a hair cut last night.  He sat perfectly still, but do you really think I feel like grinning now, Mom?

Then I tried again tonight.  Say cheese, Jake!  Mom, are you kidding me with this?

But anyway, we got it eventually.  

So we're watching the ol' claymation Santa movie as I write this.  I get a little edgy about Santa every year.  I love it, and we do it, but I struggle with the fear that my kids will eventually think of it simply as a big lie we told them throughout their childhood.  I'm well aware that most kids just sort of grow up out of it, play along for several years, and never get all that traumatized by it.  But we're talking about my children here.  I've told you about Drew, right?  The dramatic one with all the sensitivity and crazy clever questions and, again, drama.  There's no way that dude's easing out of the Santa phase without some sort of a scene.

But here's my hope - that at some point in their youth, even if they realize the absurdity of some of the details they may have been believing, they will also realize that if Christmas promises anything, it promises magic.  I'm not being all ethereal and poetic here.  I just mean the whispering of secrets, the fact that at least someone during this season will surprise you.  They'll have a gift more perfect than you had imagined or be someone you didn't even know was thinking of you.  You're sure to feel a rush of joy every time you drop a coin in the salvation army bucket or give a coat to the coat drive.  There might be carolers outside your door.  Seriously, a crowd of people standing in your lawn serenading you.  Any season that encourages that is seriously magic.  

There was a group of them at HyVee tonight.  That's what put me in this magic frame of mind.  If you read the blog very much, you may know that I have a completely irrational abhorrance for grocery shopping.  Bumping into the sound of carolers at the West end of every aisle really brightened the entire experience though.  That and having all three rambunctious boys with me.  You just can't take yourself too seriously with three boys bouncing around you wheeling their kid size carts like they're in a go-kart race.

So that's what I hope.  That the belief in Santa will turn into a belief in the magic and the thrill of giving it as much as receiving.  My favorite part of the Christmas story is how common it is - a poor man, a plain girl, a manger, regular old shepherds, animals.  But then there were angels.  Actual angels, visible and audible and filling the sky and telling the shepherds to go join the tableau that now sits on our mantles every year.  You know what that was?  It was magic.  And I look for it every year.

Teeth and honesty

Tomorrow this gorgeous smile (seen here above the green shirt beneath the blond curls) will lose a tooth.  It happened in a tragic accident involving a bunk bed and an older brother which resulted in a really loose - apparently broken - tooth.  It's okay, he looks almost 5, right?  

NO.  He does not look 5, and I'm completely heartbroken about this in a way you cannot even imagine from someone who has had cancer, survived it, and emerged with all these weighty revelations about the real meaning of life.  Who knew vanity extended to your children's dentition?  It's shameful.  Lance Armstrong would be ashamed of me and probably take away my Livestrong apparel.  

In other news, I've had an attitude breakthrough.  I'm reading Anne Lamott who is all about being funny and honest when it comes to life.  Really, really honest in that way that eventually makes me go, "Okay, seriously, the truth isn't always this true."  So in that spirit, I submit to you this really heartwarming, live-like-you're-dying king of thought I had today when I was feeling blue that no editors have as yet brought me a publishing contract followed by a parade.  I thought about my really cool agent and the fact that she's a real live honest-to-goodness Fifth Avenue New York City literary agent and thinks I'm good enough.  And then I thought about this rejection I got from an editor a couple weeks ago that was so complimentary I plan to frame it and hang it above my desk (not really, it is a rejection after all).  And I thought, between those two things, I'm extremely grateful.  In a very real sense, I've made it.  I mean, those are really thrilling accomplishments (seriously, the rejection said my writing was powerful and would definitely find a home - it was kind), and I can totally live with that even if it's the farthest I ever get.  

Just not if I have to live very long.  (And that's the honest part of which I think Anne Lamott would be proud.)

Wish us luck on the tooth removal and the end of a certain Baby Gap modeling career I'd been banking on.

- Serenity

a really cool family resemblance

If you haven't read Anne & May before, you really must today. Felicity is their guest blogger, and it's the most beautiful post about how important it is to celebrate. This is why I love that girl. You simply can't stay down when she starts talking. She just knows happy. As well as gratitude and love and giving people the hugest benefit of the doubt ever.

Now you'll notice a certain family picture in her post that frankly my sisters have both spent hours laughing hysterically over in the past, because - well - I'm kind of a dork. I'm a really delightful, celebratory dork - as Felic's post will tell you - but a dork nonetheless. Felic's post is so beautiful though and, as I said about her ability to give the benefit of the doubt, she makes me look all sweet and wise in her description of the pic.

So after you read that post, then this picture will make more sense. It's just one of those delightfully ironic things about family pictures. No one coerced him in the least, but here is a grandkid-photo taken on my oldest son's birthday (or possibly that of his cousin Jude in front - they were sharing the party). And look who is posing identically to me in the photo Felic shared today. That proud six-year-old is Jesse White, Felicity's son, who evidently takes after me in the celebration department. Seriously, go look at Anne & May. This will all make sense then. And I guarantee you'll get a smile.

dreams come true (but this isn't about the book)

If you read this post here, you will see that my love for Hollywood at some point went from maybe it's my calling - like Denzel Washington says, to it's probably not my calling, but it sure would be fun, to I don't see how that could ever fit into my already-established and very happy life, to "I just want to be in one movie - just once."  

Well.  Say hello to Once.  The head of our video department at work has a friend in film school in Chicago, and I got to play the female role in his short film.  You've heard of Off Off Broadway?  Think that.  Only for Hollywood.  

This is what I saw when I first drove onto what I officially and unabashadly call the set.

These gorgeous horses were the Extras in one of the scenes.  

Then I saw this.  The guy in the red shirt, Nick, is also in film school - for cinematography.  The director (blue coat and hat) called Nick the DP (director of photography).  Next to Nick is the assistant DP.  The head of the video department at work is in the gray coat and hat helping the DPs.  I was feeling a little giddy here.  My movie career was ON.

 

Then, as I went to park the car, I drove by this.  The dock that would be my seat for the entire film.  (I told you it's a short.)  

This is my favorite photo from the shoot.  The director is giving me some instructions before my first take.  Could I look more "on set"? 

And this is my first shot of the film. Well, my second.  The first was the day before, from the same dock but with the camera across the pond.  In these shots, though, when they say "action", you can actually hear the film begin to roll.  Hear it.  I hope I never forget that sound.

Here's the director watching the take.  (How fun is this?)

Now, after auditioning and getting the part (I don't think there was too much competition but maybe some), I began to feel silly and concerned.  I would have to be away from my kids and family for almost three full days.  (We shot the film only minutes from my house, but it's not like I was available to them in that time).  It wasn't for my job.  I wasn't trying to advance my acting career (If I really wanted to get to Hollywood, this would be a place to start - but, let's face it, I'm not really trying to get there).  So, besides being fun, it felt pretty pointless.

Then Michael came through for me.  He said it wasn't pointless.  It was an experience that would add to my life, and that was enough.    

I really believe in film.  I think it's a beautiful story-telling medium, and I think that stories have purpose.  I'm just not too sure about my place in it.

But anyway - I got my Once.  And I loved it.   So, if you like DVD commentaries as much as I do, insert this behind my film if you ever happen to see it - say, at an Off Off Sundance Festival:  "We were freezing."  On the first day I sat on that dock in 37-degree weather while it was raining.  If viewers can't tell that when they watch this film - well - I'll take my Oscar now.

I went to get my nails done - and forgot to vote (Just kidding)

Remember that line from You've Got Mail? And then he "forgives her". I wouldn't want to be the person to say something like that this year.

Each morning I drop off my third-grader at Ray Miller Elementary then turn right on Jamison to take my second-grader to the primary school. Today I was so excited to vote that I turned left on Jamison instead, which was the direction for my voting place. He was wrapped up in a toy and didn't notice either.

Pretty soon, though, he asked me a question, and the sound
of his voice scared me half to death. So I whipped the car around in someone else's voting location and got him to school on time.

I took my camera, because I was hoping there would be a big, dramatic line at the polls with "America the Beautiful" playing in the background in sort of a movie motage that is the greatness of democracy. Not so much. Although there were a lot of people there. I used to vote at the health department but this year
was moved to the Moose Lodge. I bet you big city folks
didn't get to vote with a giant moose head over your booth.

I usually take all of my children too, but this year I just took Jake. I like to have at least one of them tagging along, witnessing the wonder of America. Jake was thoroughly impressed, but I think it was mostly with his red Gatorade and the fact that the older ladies kept telling him he was pretty. My boys get that descriptive a lot in the toddler years. I don't mind, and they don't notice - so it works out.

And my sticker, although you can't see it here very well, is a
lovely "We the People" version with I Voted Today
at the bottom. I love our country.

I'm Afraid I'll Be Glad When It's Over

This is Sarah Dunn, previously mentioned in the comments section on another post and also the friend who gave me her seat ticket from Regis and Kelly one very big year in my life. This time, it's not a ploy to get you to comment, Sarah. It's just that I'm watching the debate and planning to bring up politics again, so I thought a picture of you, the girl who went to a political rally for her tenth wedding anniversary, would be appropriate.

Most of you dear people who read my blog would say that the only way to vote responsibly is to study the candidates. Some of you would add, "and to pray." I admit when it comes to studying, I'm failing this course. I study writing and parenthood and books I need to read and educational attractions in Washington D.C. and museums in Chicago. But I just haven't made the time to compare voting records, figure out what the heck they were actually voting on, and research the financial data that would tell me once and for all what's wrong with our economy and which guy has the right idea for fixing it. Truthfully, I have begun to wonder if that is even possible.

Is it possible to truly understand what's wrong with our economy and who has the right idea for fixing it? Is it truly possible for me - a girl in small town Missouri who is much more obsessed with her 2-year-old than with foreign policy - to understand today whether or not we should have gone to Iraq? Whether or not withdrawing now would be a defeat? If the leaders of our nation can't agree on that, can I even begin to understand it?

I feel that because I have failed to study, and because I have lost a bit of faith in my ability to hear God speak on something like that - I've lost that faith because I know too many Christians absolutely convinced in opposing directions - I feel that because of those factors, what I'm left with is trying to figure out which candidate I believe. They fundamentally disagree on all of those big things - and fundamentally disagree is their phrase for it - the economy, Iraq - even each other. They disagree on each other. They tell me the other guy isn't telling me the whole story about his health care plan. They tell me the other guy is lying about what he supports, because he voted for this or that thing that proves it.

They each think they know what to do. And I feel that all I've left myself to vote with, is my heart. And whether or not I believe them.

Perhaps, without slinging anything too ugly or hateful, you could just give me some suggestions on how you came to your decision and what else you'll be carrying into the booth besides your heart. And if you even carry that - as I know of course, it can be misleading.

These are the only clothes good enough for this face

Traditionally, you give the bride and groom a gift at their wedding.  I know this - thus the "Live, laugh, love" picture frame I gave at the shower and which, fortunately, the bride told me she loved.  But at the actual wedding, I'm afraid those two busy souls gave me the gift.

Lest this "Do I look alright?" straightening of the tie pose doesn't convince you that I got the better end of this ring-bearer deal . . . then the last picture will.  That's where he spent the entire ceremony, rather than up front as he should have.  Thankfully, his older cousin held the pillow with the rings.  Jake probably would have eaten them along with the chicken nuggets I used to bribe him earlier in the evening.

I get these pictures forever.  Burned into my memory the delicious imagery that makes people say, "I didn't even know they made them this small."  I mean, those are real live cuff links in that toddler-sized cuff, people.  

The bride was beautiful too, and I did take pictures of her.  Maybe when I pass them on to her, I'll at least be returning her gift a little bit.  Until then, I'm just going to keep enjoying mine.  Thank you, Riki - and especially Justin for putting in the initial request for this little guy to participate.  Thanks for giving me the chance to finally wrap this little gift the way my adoration for him deserves.  I'll love you forever for it! 

a Monday sort of post

This is a picture of my Dad and brother after graduating recently from the sheriff's academy. I wanted to put it up right then and write this great post about how from my Dad I have learned to never stop asking the question, "What do I want to be when I grow up?" Build on the old, by all means - Dad's had a long respected career as a physician - but don't ever think you're done. I admire that.

But I didn't take this picture with my own camera, so I didn't get a copy of it right away and failed to write that masterpiece when it was in season. Now I'm posting this picture because the last post had a picture of my sisters and I wanted to round it out with the brother. Not that he EVER READS MY BLOG. But still.

It was very Mondayish for me today. (My closest family members, the ones who DO READ MY BLOG, have heard that now three times. What can I say? It was the topic of the day.) But it had one really memorable moment. Kids will do that for you.

I have this habit when the kids are scared or sad or worried about something. I remind them of the good thing similar to it and say, "So think about that instead." For instance, "You don't think the time to go swimming again will come soon enough? But you had such fun doing it today . . . just think about that instead."

So today, it got me back. I burned the cookies (not possible with the air bake pan actually, but they were way more brown than I like them . . . especially since I like them straight from the bowl.) Anyway, I said to John when I took them from the oven, "Wow, I am not having a very good day." You know what he said?

"Well. Yes you are. So just think about that."

When you put it that way . . . I'm convinced!

Work from Home Fact and Fiction . . . Continued From All the Other Times I Wrote About It

Fact:  The toddler will take advantage of your hours in front of the computer to sift through your jewelry box and/or drop eggs on the kitchen floor.

Fiction: He'll only do this once, and then you'll develop the ears of a fox for jewelry boxes and refrigerator doors.  (Evidently it takes way more times than that).

Fact: You will never take for granted how stress-free the summers are, as well as fevers and teachers in-service and obscure holidays your employer won't observe, because you don't have to worry about childcare.

Fiction: (Often poeticized as fact on this very blog) You'll never look forward to school starting again.

Fact: This is a picture of my life. Boys waiting impatiently for me to return from a public restroom.

Fiction: This picture has anything to do with this post. (I just thought you would like it).

Fact: I think you actually work more minutes at home than in the office. You wouldn't clock out in the office if a coworker chats to you about their personal life, but if changing a diaper turns into bath time at home - yea, you'll be making up those thirty minutes later.

Fiction: You'll wish you could trade the coworker for the toddler. (Of course not! . . . Not every day anyway.)

Fact: Writing about travel is way more fun than medical transcription. But I still wish sometimes that I could watch the movie with Jake instead of writing or give the older boys more attention than, "Yes, you can have an apple" and, "Don't leave your shoes there." Tomorrow they are putting up the first Serenity Live video online. I always wanted to be in the entertainment industry, and this feels kind of like that, which is cool. Plus, I'm getting paid to write, which is a dream. I truly believe everyone in the world should try and find a way to do something for a living that they actually enjoy. But I don't really believe it's possible, and I know I'm lucky to be even close.

Fiction: I no longer care if my agent calls with good news that my book has sold, and I no longer wish I could do just that.

Fact: Life is ups and downs.

in all it's glory