Sherri Cornelius

Well I am really liking this template. I feel like I’ve seen it around, but I guess it’s not over-used. I usually choose cleaner blogs with simple lines and a focus on the content, but I realized I rarely post pictures anymore, and having a busy template seems doable, as the graphics won’t be competing with images and video and yadda yadda. I still have a couple of chores to do with the template before I can call it good enough, such as adding an RSS button up top somewhere. (There’s one at the bottom…don’t ask me why the designer put it down there.) I’m also writing a new front page to tell a little bit about me and probably include a picture (which I must take), and I have to figure out how to get all my pages to show up where I want them to, but that one can come later. Tell me if you have any problems.

I walked with my daughter’s kindergarten class this morning on the yearly trip to the Pumpkin Patch. It’s not a real pumpkin patch, but an empty lot where the local Methodist church sells their pumpkins, and which over the years has grown to be a bumpkin amusement park. There’s a train engine and tractors and a fire truck to climb on, roping and bean bag toss games, and a homemade kiddie train pulled by a lawnmower. It’s country fun at its finest, and the kids have a blast. I was happy to have a school activity for which I could actually volunteer–since we were outside the whole time, the fragrance was negligible, especially since I took it upon myself to be the caboose along the way, while the other parents stayed up toward the middle of the line. Not only was I helping myself, but I also provided a needed service, which was keeping the stragglers somewhat with the group.

Maggie Rose was delightful, as usual, and was proud to have me there. I befriended a couple of other kids whose parents couldn’t come. I wish I’d had more time to talk to those two boys, because they seemed to have things they wanted to get off their chest, like having an adult willing to listen was an opportunity to be jumped on. I remember what it was like to be a kid without a voice. We all need to be heard.

Daughter #2 insisted on riding the bus to her first full day of school. I tried to talk her out of it. Not for her, for me! So many reasons I should’ve taken her to school on her first day of kindergarten:

1. She can’t remember her teacher’s name. She will wander the lonesome halls, crying and calling for me, until someone notices, but by that time it will be far too late. Post-traumatic stress disorder.
2. I will not know if she made it safely to her classroom until she gets off the bus this afternoon. (Oh God, what if she doesn’t get off the bus this afternoon???!!! *faints*)
3. She should NEED ME more than that, damn  it!
4. I’ll look like a bad mom if I don’t usher her to her room and set her at ease.
5. I couldn’t take DS when he started because we didn’t have a car at the time, so I need to make up for that failure.
6. Is this starting to sound like grasping for straws?

The truth is, none of these are real concerns. And here’s why:

1. I wrote her teacher’s name nice and big on a piece of paper and put it in the mesh pocket on her backpack where it can be read from halfway down the hall. Also made her repeat her teacher’s name and directions to the classroom about 50 times.
2. She’s in the same school, just a different classroom. They know her. They will put her on the bus just like they did the previous two kids when it was their first day.
3. I don’t want to ruin her sense of adventure with my smothering.
4. Will I look like a bad mom? I’m probably overthinking this one.
5. DS came home fine on his first bus ride. He was just as excited about riding the bus as DD#2 is. No failure there.
6. I’m grasping because there’s really no good reason!

I can’t believe how calm she was about the whole thing. The older two are old pros, so they were fine. I guess it’s easier being the baby of the family, because she has a big bro and sis whom she trusts completely to keep her safe. They were all sitting in the same seat, right up front, Maggie near the window so she could see all the landmarks as the kids pointed them out. I think they enjoy looking at the dump the most.

I think back to DD#1′s first day and the look on her face as she realized I was leaving her in that classroom with strangers. She didn’t cry, she was so brave, but I barely held the tears till I hit the door.  When DS took the bus to school that first day, I was a wreck, but I was able to hide it pretty well. At least I had somebody left at home to keep me occupied. This morning I caught myself trying to talk DD#2 out of riding the bus, then I realized I was doing it for my own comfort. She’s the last one. She will be fine. But will I?

They should be getting to school about now. My first cup of coffee is almost gone, and my first day as a full-time writer stretches out before me. Doesn’t seem so exciting and wonderful now that I’m faced with it.  It’s quiet in here, people. I feel disconnected. This doesn’t bode well for my time management plans–I think I may be online more than I’d planned. But isn’t that why I set my schedule daily? There will be a period of adjustment. I must be easy on myself today. I forgot how hard it is to let a tiny child go out into the world without me.

My brother’s a writer, too. He gave me his newest manuscript to read in rough draft form, because he needs help with plot holes, so he says. What he really needs help with and doesn’t even realize it, or maybe he does, is insecurity. I wasn’t going to tell him I’d started reading it, but then he called and was like, “What’s up?” What can I say under that kind of grilling? :)

The thing is about my bro is that even though he’s been writing for 20 years, he’s never seriously pursued publication. This is something I didn’t know about him. There were years at a time when we didn’t speak directly to each other, so until we started talking all the time a couple of years ago, I’d always assumed he was learning the same things I was. After all, he’s much more prolific than me. His stories come out fully-formed, and his edits consist of tweaking the language. It’s incredible how far he’s come with minimal study and no contact at all with other writers except me and our mother, just from writing his ass off. He has a natural gift which can’t be denied. And here is where I waffle on whether to include a sample of his work without his permission. Just a small one. No? *sigh* Okay.

His craft is ready, but he’s having trouble getting past the insecurity, as most of us do. And maybe he isn’t capable yet, because he knows nothing about the business end. But that’s where Big Sis comes in. I have a fair working knowledge of the submission process, having successfully navigated it myself. Also of the critique process, having successfully landed an editing job. The first critique I gave him was his first real crit ever, but I didn’t know that at the time. He confessed to feeling like I’d punched him in the gut while reading that first crit, but in a good way. He never knew what it was really about, that whole “getting a second opinion” thing. He did sub that story on my insistence–again, his first time–but ran out of steam after only a few rejections. I think when things settle down for him in the next few months he’ll start actively submitting his first novel to agents. And I have no doubt he’ll do well.

Any ideas how to encourage such a writer?

I don’t even know what to say about my Christmas. It was…it was…teh awesome! I started the week thinking my holiday would consist of playing with the toys the kids opened that morning, but Monday my mom confirmed, and soon after both my brothers did, too. I could easily have gone off the deep end cleaning the baseboards with a toothbrush, but I chose to let them see my house as I live in it, which ain’t that bad anyway. Except for the fridge, but every household has its junk room.

So I looked through the cookbook to find a couple of desserts I could make with minimal effort, went to the store on Tuesday afternoon for ingredients and sandwich supplies. No turkey. Sandwiches, a veggie platter, pumpkin pie from a can, and apple cobbler.