Tag Archives: Kids

Busy and still bored

Posted on by Sherri
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Ihate eating during the day. I resent having to interrupt my activities, however mundane they may be, to refuel. Which is why it’s all right that I don’t have much in the kitchen right now because I haven’t been to the grocery store. The car’s still down and the Hubs’ truck stinks to high heaven. I’ve been living on almonds and baby carrots and the occasional Little Debbie snack cake, saving the real food for the family dinner.

And I’ve yet to lose a pound.

The past few weeks have been emotional, frustrating, joyous:

  • My stepdaughter had her second child, and my stepson’s wife had their first baby a week later.
  • Found out my stepson will be stationed in frickin’ Washington state when he gets out of boot camp in a month, and of course his wife and baby will go along. Not that I’d get to see them much if they stayed here, but dang.
  • What should have been a relatively simple job of changing out the water pump has become an exercise in futility, with one impossible bolt and wet, chilly weather.
  • I’m not a happy person right now, and I don’t know how to get happy. I feel stifled and trapped and lonely, not to mention off-balance and unsure. And at this point I don’t think there’s anything I can do about it.
  • Home repairs might help. I had a meeting with the insurance adjuster about some hail damage to the roof and siding, and it looks like I’ll be able to get new shingles and new paint. That’s nice.
  • I’m enjoying getting to know my cousin during the process, since he’s also my contractor. My dad pretty much raised him, and it’s interesting to hear what life was like with that side of the family, since I wasn’t part of it. But that’s a whole ‘nother blog post.

Something I have learned about myself this week is that I need tidy, beautiful, calm surroundings. My home doesn’t reflect that and it’s something I need to change.

The hopelessness of raising children

Posted on by Sherri
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I wonder if I’m a good parent. I worry my kids feel they can’t talk to me. I fear I’m too strict lenient strict.

I know how my childhood affected my behavior as an adult. I’ve seen the same path in others who were raised in very similar circumstances, and in those who were not. I’m wondering if anyone in the world actually grows up to be a healthy, well-adjusted adult, because I don’t know many, and the ones I do know are in middle age and have worked through most of their issues. So what are the chances my kids will grow up healthy? Right now it seems like nothing I do will prevent teen pregnancy, alcoholism/drug abuse, and depression. It’s all around me.

Right now the problems are manageable, but how do I know which grain of dysfunction will grow into the pearl of self-destruction?

At times the kids seem to doubt my love. (Well, the older two. The 7-year-old has confidence like I’ve never seen. So far.) On one level I don’t understand how this is possible, with all the sacrifices I’ve made to be a SAHM and to keep the family together, though logically I know they don’t see it because they are children. I try for just the right blend of understanding and stern, make every effort to let them be independent while still being involved, demonstrate that I’m a person of worth and so are they.

But some days it appears I’ve had that balance wrong this whole time. Or, more likely, there is no ideal balance and the whole thing is hopeless. They are children of the world, and the world chews up children and spits them out all the time. And there’s nothing I can do about it.

Reading back over this, I sound a bit manic and controlling. That’s not how I feel, I just feel frustrated and a bit lost. Another way to look at this whole situation is that I am doing a good job, and since I can’t control how my kids see me, I can just relax.

Anyway, that’s what’s on my mind today. Anybody got any stories in this vein they’d like to share?

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Busy-ness as usual

Posted on by Sherri
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I’ve been busy, but when I look around the house it looks pretty much the same. With the kids gone to school, I’d planned to scrub the summer’s grime from the house, a layer at a time. Instead, I’ve been focusing on projects that keep me busy but don’t really have to be done. Like putting a drop-leaf on my new desk, and starting a braided rag rug out of old towels. Wow, I’m crafty. In all fairness to myself, I have scrubbed a layer or two, and I haven’t played Metroid Prime once.

It was pretty easy to fall into the school year. Easier to be alone that first day since I knew what to expect. However, we were all nervous about their first day, especially my oldest, who went into middle school. The poor thing was so wired she cried about it several times in the days prior. Of course, on the second day she skipped out to the bus and waved good-bye with a grin. She was fine, as were the other two. And me.

So with the kids at school and my obsessive craftiness satisfied, I’m turning my thoughts toward my next project, whatever that will be. This morning I brainstormed story ideas but didn’t get very far. I think I’ll start with this half-done middle grade fantasy, to let me sink into the familiarity while I get back into the daily writing thing. I think the creative floodgates are about to open. Y’all stand back. Don’t want to get brain juice on ya.

I guess I’ll have to stick with children’s books now.

Posted on by Sherri
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Printing out a novel for editing uses a lot of paper. Combine that with the kids’ 2-hour-long scribbling sessions, and it makes perfect sense to use my old manuscripts as scrap paper. I mean, it’s still good on one side, and though the kids can read, there’s nothing OMG-terrible in BVA; it doesn’t have sex scenes, per se, but the MC does think about sex in a flippant, jaded way, and there is colorful language. Still, nobody cares about the pieces of story on the other side of the page. The occasional cussword would go unnoticed.

So I thought.

I forgot my 11-year-old is a voracious reader with a vocabulary as big as mine. She wants to read all kinds of inappropriate books, as I did at her age, just because she’s already read everything appropriate in the house. Last night she told me she’d been reading the backs of these scrap papers, because BVA was “awesome.” She said sometimes she even gets several consecutive pages so she can read a bigger chunk at a time.

It’s hard to turn down someone who’s dying to read my work, and who will undoubtedly be complimentary. So after she begged me a while, I told her I would edit out the objectionable parts and let her read it. She’s already bugged me about it twice more this morning.

So now I’m wondering, will this affect how and what I write? I want to write things my kids will love. The hubs doesn’t read fiction anymore, so he doesn’t factor in. Sex scenes embarrass me. It seems like a no-brainer to stick with Middle Grade or Young Adult. BVA is going to YA editors, I think.

Something to think about.