I've been seriously blocked when it comes to blogging lately, which is a shame, since the boys have been very busy. Here's the latest news:
Shane is officially riding a two-wheeler! My timid, cautious Mama's boy sucked up the fear and mastered the bike without training wheels one Sunday evening a couple weeks ago. I'm so proud, and a little sad, because my baby is growing up. The downside--my camera hasn't been functioning, so no pictures.
Bobby was top in his class at his school's Mile Long Fun Run. I think I have a future track star on my hands. He beat out the top runners in all the kindergarten classes. Again, I am so proud and amazed by another big accomplishment for him. The downside--yeah, no camera for that event either.
I promise to come back to the blog more often and snap out of my writing funk.
Happy Spring!
Monday, April 06, 2009
Monday, March 02, 2009
Bringing Playfulness Back to my Writing
Taking a cue from my boys, who literally played with homemade play dough all day yesterday while being shut in from the stormy weather, I decided my latest writing slump needed some attention. I've been way too serious lately with my writing. A string of freelance editing gigs on other people's projects filled my inbox. Endless revisions on my first YA manuscript (submitting to agents again, wish me luck!) started to feel mechanical as I continually scraped through pages for misplaced punctuation or too much wordiness. My confidence lurched then plunged after nearly hooking an agent with my book. The prospect of revising my second YA manuscript which is in the very messy first draft stage felt overwhelming. Then there were magazine deadlines approaching and all I wanted to do was hide under the covers.
Yet watching Bobby and Shane construct elaborate monster truck jumps out of a huge glob of play dough triggered something in my head. Play dough is fun, but it's also educational for young children. Where was my fun? Creativity is supposed to be playful and freeing, yet why was I leaning more toward the tortured artist role than playful child? Sure, all the left brain editing is important for churning out some polished prose or bringing in some extra income and each rejection (supposedly) brings a writer closer to finding a home for her baby, but why was it all becoming such a downer? Well duh, nobody likes to be rejected. And it's tough editing other people's work when you are itching to start your own, or in my case, when you'd rather curl up with a juicy (and perfectly edited) novel by someone else.
So this morning, seated at the kitchen table still littered with tiny green fragments of clay, I whipped out my notebook to face my latest project...an essay for my Suburban Queen column. Instead of the usual free writing I do to spark ideas, I revisited an old technique I used in my school days: clustering.
Come on, we've all done this as students. Take your main idea (mine was t-ball season), write it in the center of the page and circle it. Then free associate ideas into a network of bubbles surrounding the main idea. In the space of about ten minutes, I filled my page with tons of ideas. I remembered the chaos of lost baseball socks right before a game, snack duty for the team, the chill of early Saturday mornings on the bleachers as my baby raced around the bases. The first draft came naturally then and I know it'll only grow as it sits in the back of my mind before I shift back to that trusty left side of my brain for rewrites. You'll see the finished product in the April/May issue of Bay Area Kids Magazine, be sure and check it out!
Yet watching Bobby and Shane construct elaborate monster truck jumps out of a huge glob of play dough triggered something in my head. Play dough is fun, but it's also educational for young children. Where was my fun? Creativity is supposed to be playful and freeing, yet why was I leaning more toward the tortured artist role than playful child? Sure, all the left brain editing is important for churning out some polished prose or bringing in some extra income and each rejection (supposedly) brings a writer closer to finding a home for her baby, but why was it all becoming such a downer? Well duh, nobody likes to be rejected. And it's tough editing other people's work when you are itching to start your own, or in my case, when you'd rather curl up with a juicy (and perfectly edited) novel by someone else.
So this morning, seated at the kitchen table still littered with tiny green fragments of clay, I whipped out my notebook to face my latest project...an essay for my Suburban Queen column. Instead of the usual free writing I do to spark ideas, I revisited an old technique I used in my school days: clustering.
Come on, we've all done this as students. Take your main idea (mine was t-ball season), write it in the center of the page and circle it. Then free associate ideas into a network of bubbles surrounding the main idea. In the space of about ten minutes, I filled my page with tons of ideas. I remembered the chaos of lost baseball socks right before a game, snack duty for the team, the chill of early Saturday mornings on the bleachers as my baby raced around the bases. The first draft came naturally then and I know it'll only grow as it sits in the back of my mind before I shift back to that trusty left side of my brain for rewrites. You'll see the finished product in the April/May issue of Bay Area Kids Magazine, be sure and check it out!
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
He Giggles in his Sleep
Shane's turn....
I feel like the kid is always shortchanged when I'm sharing silly stories about the boys. Bobby's precociousness and overgrown self esteem provides pages of funny material for my writing. Then poor Shane is left in the background. Maybe it's because Shane is more cautious, more affectionate and cuddly...how much can you rave on about that, you know?
Well, not today.
Shane has taken up the unfortunate habit again of crawling into bed with us before the sun comes up. I admit I'm horribly out of practice from those toddler daze when I marched him back to his own bed with his firm hand. He's just so darn cuddly and I generally enjoy it, as long as Robbie is already out of bed for work.
So as the gloomy day began this morning and I snuggled into his lanky body, just on the edge of wakefulness, Shane startled me awake by an attack of full blown giggles. That's not unusual, especially if Bobby has snuck into the bed as well and they are wide awake and telling gross, little boy jokes to each other as I will them to stay in bed a few more minutes. But this morning, it was just Shane and me (and the dog, of course), and the giggles were followed by a drawn out, sleep-sigh. Light snoring. The kid was dead asleep. So I watched him for awhile and his sweet little mouth, turned up in a smile, allowed a few more guffaws.
What a way to start my rainy morning of rushing two kids to two different schools before 8:30.
When I asked him what he had been dreaming about, I didn't exactly get the adorable response to put the finishing touches on my blog. He claims he was dreaming about poop and hot dogs.
Hey, he's still a gross boy and all that...
Tuesday, February 03, 2009
The Birthday Chatter Begins
He thinks I can just up and change the day I gave birth to him. Preferably to seven days from now. Mind you, his birthday isn't until the end of April. This is the sign that the Christmas giddiness is far behind us and he expects presents and excess toys to crowd me out of the house.
February has always been a relief to me. The stress of the holidays far enough to seem like a dream and the hectic springtime just a faint shadow on my horizon. Because when Bobby turns six on April 29, he'll kick off what I think of as birthday month--family birthdays crowded side by side like weary soldiers.
And he wants to change it.
I want to change his birthday!
The chatter is already beginning. Bobby wants a robot themed party at Chuck E Cheese. No wait, make that the park with a jump house and waterslides. No, scratch that. Now there is talk of kids in his class hiring a portable petting zoon (ah, think not!) or an old-school fire engine that drives right up to your curb where the kids can scramble in and out like sugar-drugged monkeys.
The birthday list begins. He wants a massive Star Wars lego set (I think not, I tell him. Take care of the legos you have because I'm sick of stepping on them with my bare feet. He wants a robot cake flanked with similar cupcakes.
And all I want is a couple months where I don't have to plan a blow out party or holiday event, where I don't have to make guest lists and budgets and all that.
Oh wait, I think it's time for me to buy those cheap valentines for the boys to pass at school parties.
Ah, it never ends...
February has always been a relief to me. The stress of the holidays far enough to seem like a dream and the hectic springtime just a faint shadow on my horizon. Because when Bobby turns six on April 29, he'll kick off what I think of as birthday month--family birthdays crowded side by side like weary soldiers.
And he wants to change it.
I want to change his birthday!
The chatter is already beginning. Bobby wants a robot themed party at Chuck E Cheese. No wait, make that the park with a jump house and waterslides. No, scratch that. Now there is talk of kids in his class hiring a portable petting zoon (ah, think not!) or an old-school fire engine that drives right up to your curb where the kids can scramble in and out like sugar-drugged monkeys.
The birthday list begins. He wants a massive Star Wars lego set (I think not, I tell him. Take care of the legos you have because I'm sick of stepping on them with my bare feet. He wants a robot cake flanked with similar cupcakes.
And all I want is a couple months where I don't have to plan a blow out party or holiday event, where I don't have to make guest lists and budgets and all that.
Oh wait, I think it's time for me to buy those cheap valentines for the boys to pass at school parties.
Ah, it never ends...
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
The House of Lost Things
We have a serious situation in my household at the moment.
Everything keeps disappearing!
It started with the charger for my brand new cell phone. That was a month ago and the charger still hasn't turned up and I have yet to replace it. What a pain--I've been charging my phone up through my computer.
Next, it was the top of my fancy, NEW Sigg water bottle. The same day it came in the mail, the top just disappeared. Shane insists he dropped it in his toy box, but it has yet to turn up.
The latest casualty--my dust pan.
I mean, really?? Where is all my stuff ending up and why is it only the things that I use??
Everything keeps disappearing!
It started with the charger for my brand new cell phone. That was a month ago and the charger still hasn't turned up and I have yet to replace it. What a pain--I've been charging my phone up through my computer.
Next, it was the top of my fancy, NEW Sigg water bottle. The same day it came in the mail, the top just disappeared. Shane insists he dropped it in his toy box, but it has yet to turn up.
The latest casualty--my dust pan.
I mean, really?? Where is all my stuff ending up and why is it only the things that I use??
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
Bobby's Twins
I've been meaning to set this story down for posterity....
New year, new habits, new changes...and yes, that includes weekly trips to Weight Watchers with my sister. Although I'm a WW rookie, I lived Jenny Craig for months before my wedding and I still recall the anxiety over the weekly weigh-ins and also that my sister always seemed a pound or two (or seven! our first week) ahead of me. I promised myself I wouldn't look at these meetings as a competition. We're there to cheer each other on and push each other to do better. I do have my 30th birthday to look smokin hot for in May, ya know.
Anyway, the very day that I tried my first meeting, stepped gingerly on the unfamiliar scale and recoiled at the weight I'd let myself reach, also happened to be the very day that Bobby's teacher pulled me aside afterschool and asked quietly if I was expecting.
Yikes!
Sure, I was in yoga pants and bulky sweatshirt. Sure, my weigh-in revealed I was a little too close to my pregnancy wait (full term) with Bobby almost six years ago. But, oh, the horrors of it all! Of course, she wasn't commenting on my supple shape. Seems my son talked her into believing we were expecting twins this spring. A boy and a girl and they were going to live in our play room.
I drilled Bobby on the way home. Why did you say that? Do you really want more stinky kids in the house? Do you realize your father is biologically limited to giving me boys? I let him rattle on, his new obsession is how babies come out of mommies, and sighed when he was really just obsessed with the biological facts of having two babies in your tummy at once and just how they wrestled their way out. He got over the babies in the house demands when I talked to him about stinky diapers and cranky parents from no sleep, less money to save up for Disneyland, and a lot less privacy.
He was over it, until, we walked into our yoga studio one sunny morning and two freaking adorable twin baby girls lay on their tummies on blankets in the front room with matching headbands. Now I have to play the "Mommy's too old" card.
After all, I will be turning thirty so it's a valid excuse, right??
New year, new habits, new changes...and yes, that includes weekly trips to Weight Watchers with my sister. Although I'm a WW rookie, I lived Jenny Craig for months before my wedding and I still recall the anxiety over the weekly weigh-ins and also that my sister always seemed a pound or two (or seven! our first week) ahead of me. I promised myself I wouldn't look at these meetings as a competition. We're there to cheer each other on and push each other to do better. I do have my 30th birthday to look smokin hot for in May, ya know.
Anyway, the very day that I tried my first meeting, stepped gingerly on the unfamiliar scale and recoiled at the weight I'd let myself reach, also happened to be the very day that Bobby's teacher pulled me aside afterschool and asked quietly if I was expecting.
Yikes!
Sure, I was in yoga pants and bulky sweatshirt. Sure, my weigh-in revealed I was a little too close to my pregnancy wait (full term) with Bobby almost six years ago. But, oh, the horrors of it all! Of course, she wasn't commenting on my supple shape. Seems my son talked her into believing we were expecting twins this spring. A boy and a girl and they were going to live in our play room.
I drilled Bobby on the way home. Why did you say that? Do you really want more stinky kids in the house? Do you realize your father is biologically limited to giving me boys? I let him rattle on, his new obsession is how babies come out of mommies, and sighed when he was really just obsessed with the biological facts of having two babies in your tummy at once and just how they wrestled their way out. He got over the babies in the house demands when I talked to him about stinky diapers and cranky parents from no sleep, less money to save up for Disneyland, and a lot less privacy.
He was over it, until, we walked into our yoga studio one sunny morning and two freaking adorable twin baby girls lay on their tummies on blankets in the front room with matching headbands. Now I have to play the "Mommy's too old" card.
After all, I will be turning thirty so it's a valid excuse, right??
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
Happy 2009
Yes, I know I'm a little late on this one but give a girl a break, I barely survived the holidays. New year, new blog. Hope you like my new design and gadgets, still working with the kinks. Be sure to subscribe to my blog or come visit every Tuesday when I promise to post. To officially end 2008, I'm reprinting my Christmas Newsettler. Thanks for stopping by!
The Pollard Family's Top 8 of 2008
8. Shane (age 4) developed a severe allergy to the word NO. Be warned: use it at your own risk.
7. Bobby (age 5) played his first year of t-ball, making excellent dust piles in the outfield and smacking a few balls past the infield.
6. The Family ventured out to their first rain-soaked Monster Truck Monster Jam in Oakland with a huge group of friends. Although we had to leave early do to our soggy misery, we'll be going back at the end of February for another try to feed the boys' obsession with all trucks.
5. Kelly broke into two new writing markets, selling articles to Parent's Press and Bay Area Kids. She continues to write for local magazines, work on THE YA NOVEL (this year it will sell) and is the newsletter editor for California Writers Club, Tri-Valley.
4. Robbie left Waste Management in June for a new position. He's lovin it!
3. Bobby started Kindergarten where he's building up some serious self-esteem. Quotes heard spying on him alone in his room: "I am the most amazing kid my parents ever had!" and "Those kids are going to say, gee Bobby, you are a genius!" Stay tuned for more choice words from Mr. Ego.
2. Shane joined the pre-k class in preschool following in big brother's footsteps. He is finally shifting from "I can't!" to "Look what I did!" Ah, relief!
1. Kelly and Robbie have held on to their sanity navigating these early years with these boys who call themselves "The Naked Brothers Band" do to their preference to strip down the moment they walk in the door.
Stay tuned for another year of craziness and thanks for stopping by!
The Pollard Family's Top 8 of 2008
8. Shane (age 4) developed a severe allergy to the word NO. Be warned: use it at your own risk.
7. Bobby (age 5) played his first year of t-ball, making excellent dust piles in the outfield and smacking a few balls past the infield.
6. The Family ventured out to their first rain-soaked Monster Truck Monster Jam in Oakland with a huge group of friends. Although we had to leave early do to our soggy misery, we'll be going back at the end of February for another try to feed the boys' obsession with all trucks.
5. Kelly broke into two new writing markets, selling articles to Parent's Press and Bay Area Kids. She continues to write for local magazines, work on THE YA NOVEL (this year it will sell) and is the newsletter editor for California Writers Club, Tri-Valley.
4. Robbie left Waste Management in June for a new position. He's lovin it!
3. Bobby started Kindergarten where he's building up some serious self-esteem. Quotes heard spying on him alone in his room: "I am the most amazing kid my parents ever had!" and "Those kids are going to say, gee Bobby, you are a genius!" Stay tuned for more choice words from Mr. Ego.
2. Shane joined the pre-k class in preschool following in big brother's footsteps. He is finally shifting from "I can't!" to "Look what I did!" Ah, relief!
1. Kelly and Robbie have held on to their sanity navigating these early years with these boys who call themselves "The Naked Brothers Band" do to their preference to strip down the moment they walk in the door.
Stay tuned for another year of craziness and thanks for stopping by!
Monday, December 22, 2008
Feeling Grinch-y
Oh, woe is my parenting life these past weeks. I'm talking about wound up boys with stashes of holiday candies and cookies, Christmas cards that I'm studiously avoiding, Santa visits at the mall that just won't happen this year, and unfinished shopping while time swirls away from me.
My one salvation this past week--books. Never mind how exhausted I was yesterday, recovering from a late night holiday party Saturday night. I was up until after midnight completely absorbed in an awesome book I recommend to any woman--The Friday Night Knitting Club. How nice was it to lose my own identity and get sucked in to the dramas and triumphs of these women? I read while my husband slept through boring television shows and my boys terrorized the house with their army of plastic trucks. I read while bathing the monster twins and after I collapsed into bed with all intentions of falling asleep to face today.
But then I couldn't put the book down. There is something to be said about books like this one and another phenomenal book, The Wednesday Sisters, that follows a group narrative. I love that switch of viewpoints, how some key scenes are played out from different perspectives. That is the book I would love to write. I'm sure any aspiring writer would like to craft that compelling of a story.
So, Grinch, I still feel...except for those stolen hours when I allowed myself a guilt-free escape from the holidays.
My one salvation this past week--books. Never mind how exhausted I was yesterday, recovering from a late night holiday party Saturday night. I was up until after midnight completely absorbed in an awesome book I recommend to any woman--The Friday Night Knitting Club. How nice was it to lose my own identity and get sucked in to the dramas and triumphs of these women? I read while my husband slept through boring television shows and my boys terrorized the house with their army of plastic trucks. I read while bathing the monster twins and after I collapsed into bed with all intentions of falling asleep to face today.
But then I couldn't put the book down. There is something to be said about books like this one and another phenomenal book, The Wednesday Sisters, that follows a group narrative. I love that switch of viewpoints, how some key scenes are played out from different perspectives. That is the book I would love to write. I'm sure any aspiring writer would like to craft that compelling of a story.
So, Grinch, I still feel...except for those stolen hours when I allowed myself a guilt-free escape from the holidays.
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
Extravagance
There was an awesome essay by Brett Paesel, author of the book Mommies Who Drink, in the December issue of Parent's Press about reconciling the materialistic nature of the holidays with our own inborn guilt. She argued that if anything, and especially in these crazy economic times, the holidays call for extravagance. She hailed December as the one month out of the year where we allow ourselves and our children to indulge--in wishes, in food and drink.
It was a great perspective because I am the ultimate guilt carrier and feel like I'm constantly donating canned foods, toys for tots, money to churches and shelters to ease the burden of those less fortunate in the holiday season. Then I feel like a jerk if I secretly wish for a piece of jewelry or if I debate about splurging on a Nintendo Wii for my family. (people, I have serious Wii envy...my husband and kids could probably care less about owning one.)
It's a little late this year, but she suggested forgoing the little indulgences throughout the year...lunches and lattes, for example, and banking the fun money into a Christmas account. Then, we have all year to look forward to some Christmas magic.
Though I am sticking to a budget (somewhat), I can't help picking up an extra present or two for the boys. Of course, it seems like on the very day I do indulge in some extra Christmas magic for the little boogers, those are the days they act up, Shane has his high decibal meltdown in public and Bobby stubbornly refuses some mundane request.
Go figure.
Maybe I should just indulge myself instead. I think I need to check out Paesel's book, for one!
It was a great perspective because I am the ultimate guilt carrier and feel like I'm constantly donating canned foods, toys for tots, money to churches and shelters to ease the burden of those less fortunate in the holiday season. Then I feel like a jerk if I secretly wish for a piece of jewelry or if I debate about splurging on a Nintendo Wii for my family. (people, I have serious Wii envy...my husband and kids could probably care less about owning one.)
It's a little late this year, but she suggested forgoing the little indulgences throughout the year...lunches and lattes, for example, and banking the fun money into a Christmas account. Then, we have all year to look forward to some Christmas magic.
Though I am sticking to a budget (somewhat), I can't help picking up an extra present or two for the boys. Of course, it seems like on the very day I do indulge in some extra Christmas magic for the little boogers, those are the days they act up, Shane has his high decibal meltdown in public and Bobby stubbornly refuses some mundane request.
Go figure.
Maybe I should just indulge myself instead. I think I need to check out Paesel's book, for one!
Friday, November 21, 2008
What I Haven't Written About
It has been a long time since I made a stop over at my own blog. Why? Life at home (and at work) has been bursting with stories just waiting to be shared. But I haven't written about the week-long escapade that was Halloween this season. I didn't write about the two school parties, the downtown trick or treating, or the half-ass costume party I had on Halloween night where I dressed up as a shabby looking princess and forced my husband to paint his face like Frankenstein. I definitely didn't write about (or post, until now) my mom and stepdad's scary show of humor dressing him up as Mom in the sixties. Notice the orange cheerleading sweater her husband wears. Yah, can't believe that hasn't made it onto the blog yet. In fact, I think I need to borrow that sweater myself.
I haven't written about how I had barely a weekend to catch my breath from Halloween to launch into Shane's 4th birthday week, including a birthday dinner at Chevy's where he refused to wear the sombrero when they sang to him; the preschool party at school where he protested the spooky rice krispy spiders I made to top his cupcakes; nor did I write about the 'real' party that next weekend at John's Incredible Pizza--which was, let's just say, not so incredible in my opinion.
I could go on about Bobby's first teacher conference for kindergarten, goony school portraits and the general malaise of bracing myself for the holidays, but I must save some material for the future.
But I promise, I'll try to post on a regular basis again. Thanks for reading!
Monday, October 27, 2008
Life Without Training Wheels
I don't even know what is considered normal about taking the training wheels off, which is pretty crazy considering the amount of time I spend reading parenting articles.
Bobby's training wheel literally broke off last week so the boys helped their dad fix up both bikes, air up the tires, add a little elbow grease and Bobby assured us he was ready for the next step.
I remember when my parents removed the training wheels off my hot pink Barbie bike that had those really cool plastic streamers on the handle bars. I think I was a little older than Bobby and I wobbled up and down the sidewalk, crashing right into our neighbors Buick (?) on the street.
I'm not sure what I was expecting when Bobby tried out his bike. Fear, because Robbie said we should have him try in the backyard which you'll observe has a whole wall of hea- splitting retaining wall rocks. Bobby leaned a lot on his feet and cautiously started circling, crashing a few times into our house (no broken windows, thank goodness), into Shane who thought it was a race that he was miraculously winning for once, and into a bush.
Other than that, the transition was really anticlimactic. He had the riding down in less than ten minutes and my video taping resulted in some boring laps around the grass. Maybe we waited too long to take the training wheels off?
Most likely, I didn't want to see him grow out of them. It's already been a huge year with kindergarten starting and I don't know how much of my boys growing out of certain phases I can take.
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
Oh, The Horrors
Quite the night of frights in our household last night....
Let me explain. Other than the normal Manic Mondays, I had my niece and nephew over after school until after dinner time. Their oh so lucky parents flew home from New Orleans last night...how I wish we could have traded places.
As the kids played in the back, finished homework and watched the Disney channel, I busied myself in throwing together a kid friendly dinner (Impossibly Easy Cheeseburger Pie anyone?) I shoved the casserole in the oven and started on chopping veggies for a quick salad.
Oh, I cringe even at the memory of this. Hold on while I pull it together here...
Okay. As I chopped away, a little friend darted across the top of my countertop and along the backsplash of the oven. Yes, a member of the mouse family that we've been waging war against the past couple weeks decided to come out and check out the dinner action. So, during this endless battle against the rodents from hell, I've realized that my fear of mice is borderline psychological phobia. What once my family, especially my husband, found endearing. Oh how funny, Kelly almost twisted her ankle when the mouse landed on her foot while taking out the garbage. Oh, chuckle chuckle, Kelly locked herself in the bathroom when the cat caught a mouse and batted it around the hallway while the kids slept unaware.... Now, it's just an annoyance. Now, it's more like, Kelly do something.
Well, my friends, I certainly cannot because the terror of these micro-monsters is really too much to take. Luckily, the very sharp knife I used to chop carrots was not in my hand at the time of my mouse trauma. I shrieked and ran down the hall. The kids came running in. I choked back the tears and took some deep yoga breaths.
And I did have my niece and nephew here to save the evening. (7th grader and sophomore). Clearly, I was worthless to this mouse escapade. But the poor baby mouse was trapped on the counter terrified and hiding behind my fruit bowl and cannister set. (Oh yuck--you better believe the disinfecting that went down later).
The kids (including my very thrilled sons who thought the baby mouse was so adorable and worthy of Pollard pet status) rigged up a box with a slice of cheese. Guiding the thing with a broom handle and trapping it with various kitchen gadgets, they somehow trapped him.
But what next? They wouldn't kill it; I wouldn't go near it. They definitely weren't keeping it no matter how freakin adorable it was to them. So, they released it on the fenceline. Yah, not the greatest solution. I'm sure he'll find his way back to his little mouse clan causing a ruckus in my attic.
And when my darling husband wandered in from work a bit later, his response: I guess we should put out some mouse traps.
Yah think?????
And my bad karma (maybe) for forcing the kids to let the mouse out near the neighbors house....
Shane broke the window in my office less than an our later with one firm swing of his plastic pumpkin.
For the record:
-this is the second major mouse incident this month, not counting the nightly rustling that tortures me while trying to read a book
-this is the second window Shane has broken this year--and lucky (?) us, at least it was the same window.
Let me explain. Other than the normal Manic Mondays, I had my niece and nephew over after school until after dinner time. Their oh so lucky parents flew home from New Orleans last night...how I wish we could have traded places.
As the kids played in the back, finished homework and watched the Disney channel, I busied myself in throwing together a kid friendly dinner (Impossibly Easy Cheeseburger Pie anyone?) I shoved the casserole in the oven and started on chopping veggies for a quick salad.
Oh, I cringe even at the memory of this. Hold on while I pull it together here...
Okay. As I chopped away, a little friend darted across the top of my countertop and along the backsplash of the oven. Yes, a member of the mouse family that we've been waging war against the past couple weeks decided to come out and check out the dinner action. So, during this endless battle against the rodents from hell, I've realized that my fear of mice is borderline psychological phobia. What once my family, especially my husband, found endearing. Oh how funny, Kelly almost twisted her ankle when the mouse landed on her foot while taking out the garbage. Oh, chuckle chuckle, Kelly locked herself in the bathroom when the cat caught a mouse and batted it around the hallway while the kids slept unaware.... Now, it's just an annoyance. Now, it's more like, Kelly do something.
Well, my friends, I certainly cannot because the terror of these micro-monsters is really too much to take. Luckily, the very sharp knife I used to chop carrots was not in my hand at the time of my mouse trauma. I shrieked and ran down the hall. The kids came running in. I choked back the tears and took some deep yoga breaths.
And I did have my niece and nephew here to save the evening. (7th grader and sophomore). Clearly, I was worthless to this mouse escapade. But the poor baby mouse was trapped on the counter terrified and hiding behind my fruit bowl and cannister set. (Oh yuck--you better believe the disinfecting that went down later).
The kids (including my very thrilled sons who thought the baby mouse was so adorable and worthy of Pollard pet status) rigged up a box with a slice of cheese. Guiding the thing with a broom handle and trapping it with various kitchen gadgets, they somehow trapped him.
But what next? They wouldn't kill it; I wouldn't go near it. They definitely weren't keeping it no matter how freakin adorable it was to them. So, they released it on the fenceline. Yah, not the greatest solution. I'm sure he'll find his way back to his little mouse clan causing a ruckus in my attic.
And when my darling husband wandered in from work a bit later, his response: I guess we should put out some mouse traps.
Yah think?????
And my bad karma (maybe) for forcing the kids to let the mouse out near the neighbors house....
Shane broke the window in my office less than an our later with one firm swing of his plastic pumpkin.
For the record:
-this is the second major mouse incident this month, not counting the nightly rustling that tortures me while trying to read a book
-this is the second window Shane has broken this year--and lucky (?) us, at least it was the same window.
Wednesday, October 08, 2008
Rethinking Groceries
Okay, the economy is kinda freaking me out. Add to that, my own writing income has gone way down as I've waded through the new world of grade school and the boys' very opposite school schedules these past weeks. The holidays lurk on the horizon, Halloween being the one I'm most concerned about and the extra money just isn't there this year.
So what do I do?
I sat down and listed all our expenses for a week. I knew this intrinsically, but gee, I drop a lot of dinero for groceries. And when my sis-in-law told me how she is boycotting our normal grocery store in favor of one across town due to way cheaper prices, my ears perked up. (Can ears perk?) I know I can do better and save, diligently clipping coupons and logging on to the various web sites that coordinate weekly coupons with sales...because, you know, I have a ton of free time and my boys just love getting dragged all around town to chase down a discount.
Ha.
On a whim, I dropped into a so-called discount grocery store in town that I usually avoid. This is usually robbed at gunpoint a couple times a year, so no, you won't find me there at night time. But curiosity and the need to live a more frugal life lured me to that side of town with Shane in tow.
First lesson: do not bring the boys.
This should go for all types of grocery trips, but especially this store, where the stock rotates and you must retrace steps and navigate the skinny aisles with eyes peeled for the brands you trust.
And why is it so discounted anyway? Sure, a simple internet search may have the answers, and I could spend even more time on that, but why? Another reason to fly solo was my eagle eye decoding of expiration dates...all good. Shane wasn't so patient by the time we reached aisle three.
All that matters to me (besides the logic of armed robbers holding up a discount grocer of all places), when we walked in, I saw our favorite brand of bread on display for 99 cents. Score!
My razor refills that I've been out of for longer than I'll ever admit, under $2.
Each aisle revealed a new discovery. A bag of softening avocados perfect for a dip; the boys yogurt drink, again, 99 cents. The milk and eggs weren't significantly cheaper, but the canned goods, box dinners and random cereal boxes certainly were.
I left with a full cart under 40 bucks, opposed to over 100 dollars at my 'other' store.
So what do I do?
I sat down and listed all our expenses for a week. I knew this intrinsically, but gee, I drop a lot of dinero for groceries. And when my sis-in-law told me how she is boycotting our normal grocery store in favor of one across town due to way cheaper prices, my ears perked up. (Can ears perk?) I know I can do better and save, diligently clipping coupons and logging on to the various web sites that coordinate weekly coupons with sales...because, you know, I have a ton of free time and my boys just love getting dragged all around town to chase down a discount.
Ha.
On a whim, I dropped into a so-called discount grocery store in town that I usually avoid. This is usually robbed at gunpoint a couple times a year, so no, you won't find me there at night time. But curiosity and the need to live a more frugal life lured me to that side of town with Shane in tow.
First lesson: do not bring the boys.
This should go for all types of grocery trips, but especially this store, where the stock rotates and you must retrace steps and navigate the skinny aisles with eyes peeled for the brands you trust.
And why is it so discounted anyway? Sure, a simple internet search may have the answers, and I could spend even more time on that, but why? Another reason to fly solo was my eagle eye decoding of expiration dates...all good. Shane wasn't so patient by the time we reached aisle three.
All that matters to me (besides the logic of armed robbers holding up a discount grocer of all places), when we walked in, I saw our favorite brand of bread on display for 99 cents. Score!
My razor refills that I've been out of for longer than I'll ever admit, under $2.
Each aisle revealed a new discovery. A bag of softening avocados perfect for a dip; the boys yogurt drink, again, 99 cents. The milk and eggs weren't significantly cheaper, but the canned goods, box dinners and random cereal boxes certainly were.
I left with a full cart under 40 bucks, opposed to over 100 dollars at my 'other' store.
Monday, October 06, 2008
A New Favorite Blog
I stumbled on this one through the YPulse newsletter that pops up in my inbox and distracts me from my writing (and cleaning) five days a week.
What Claudia Wore is really a genius blog topic. The writer plucks out some pretty hideous and hilarious outfits from the Ann Martin series The Babysitters Club. I think I owned over fifty of these books at one point. Kristy annoyed me, I related most to the quiet Mary Ann, Dawn was probably my favorite though it was cooler to like the 'hip' Claudia and boy crazy Stacey. Why did I get rid of these books? Please tell me I didn't dress the same way as these poor characters that I so idolized!
What Claudia Wore is really a genius blog topic. The writer plucks out some pretty hideous and hilarious outfits from the Ann Martin series The Babysitters Club. I think I owned over fifty of these books at one point. Kristy annoyed me, I related most to the quiet Mary Ann, Dawn was probably my favorite though it was cooler to like the 'hip' Claudia and boy crazy Stacey. Why did I get rid of these books? Please tell me I didn't dress the same way as these poor characters that I so idolized!
Friday, October 03, 2008
Why I Didn't Write
The ants overtaking the kitchen pantry and waging ant wars inside the dishwasher...
The new routine on the road between schools...
CWC newsletter deadline looming...
Parenting article deadline come and gone...but I made it
The new Wii headache, that is to say, my sorry search for a Wii Fit for my sister's birthday. This game is proving more difficult to find than the Wii game console was last year at Christmas, but this, my friends, is material for another post.
Picking up books to read rather than working on my own (currently on my nightstand: The Historian and The Poet's Companion--both I highly recommend)
Fear of failure, more rejection...general creative doubt.
And remains of Shane's double ear infection that makes him sense the moment I sit at my computer to write and start shrieking for Mama cuddles.
So these are my excuses. I spent more time writing my excuses here than any creative writing time all week. This is troubling.
The new routine on the road between schools...
CWC newsletter deadline looming...
Parenting article deadline come and gone...but I made it
The new Wii headache, that is to say, my sorry search for a Wii Fit for my sister's birthday. This game is proving more difficult to find than the Wii game console was last year at Christmas, but this, my friends, is material for another post.
Picking up books to read rather than working on my own (currently on my nightstand: The Historian and The Poet's Companion--both I highly recommend)
Fear of failure, more rejection...general creative doubt.
And remains of Shane's double ear infection that makes him sense the moment I sit at my computer to write and start shrieking for Mama cuddles.
So these are my excuses. I spent more time writing my excuses here than any creative writing time all week. This is troubling.
Thursday, September 25, 2008
Sketch Musings
My kids are a constant source of amazement to me. My newest fascination is the passion Bobby suddenly has for drawing. The kid goes through stacks of paper, sketching elaborate robots, dinosaurs, monsters and hot rods. Just months ago, in his preschool class, he was often forced to sit down to do the art projects. Now, I can't get him to play outside because he's too busy working on his latest 'book' of drawings.
Naturally, this poses a tiny problem with the vast amount of paper scattered about. As if it's not bad enough that I'm a writer and my office can barely contain my notes, outlines, drafts and files. It seems Mr. Bobby needs his own office at the rate he's going.
This drawing above is a few weeks old, but I marvel at it every time I find it in the stacks of paper shoved under the coffee table, in boxes or piled high on his desk in the playroom. How many of these drawings will disappear under the chaos of the boys' destruction? To me, this image is like poetry, like a record of Bobby's sudden learning curve in the art of creating.
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
And Week Four Begins
The boys with Buzzy the Bee from Bobby's class He got to take Buzzy home last week for good bee-havior
First of all, I've posted after a little hiatus on Eric Maisel's Creativity Central Blog.
So now, the Pollard household sets forth on week four of our new school year. I have to say that it's been a rough road with the boys in different schools and opposite schedules. Go carpool mommy! Today was our first day of dropping Shane off at preschool without him having his body-thrashing, please-leave-brother-here, meltdown.
Sheesh, after four weeks, I think we finally have some semblance of control over the school situation.
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
Why I Love the Valley
Sometimes in the suburban sprawl of my everyday life, I long for a home surrounded by acres of forest in walking distance of a sparkling body of water. I curse the 580 traffic. Clench my fingers into my palms on the stop and go city commute to the boys' respective schools.
But as with most things in life, once I take a step back, or in this case, hundreds of steps up the (free!!) trails of Brushy Peak in Livermore, I see what I have from a rosier perspective.
Monday, August 25, 2008
Kindergarten!
Bobby has been counting down to this day since he turned five back in April. He has been so pumped about starting school since I bought him his stylin 'Z-Strap' Sketchers and some new school clothes. I honestly didn't know how I'd react to this day. Surprisingly, no tears for me or Bobby. Shane, on the other hand, had a very tough time letting his brother go to a new school without him.
Shane cried so much that a lot of the parents thought he was the one starting kindergarten. It doesn't help that Shane is a giant. Well, we left Bobby to his very nice new teacher and one friend from his T-ball team last spring. After a few hours, and much prompting from Shane, we came back to get the beloved brother Bobby.
Thursday, August 07, 2008
When Wishing Backfires
I've been on a whirlwind reading frenzy the last few weeks. Just take a peak at my iReads icon on my facebook page. I'm juggling way to many books at one, then picking up new ones before I have a chance to finish the ones I'm halfway through.
On Monday, I blogged about Noelle Oxenhandler's new memoir "A Wishing Year" here (just scroll down to my post called Musing in the Valley Vineyards: On Wishing and Writing--not tech savvy enough yet to post the exact url!). The book jolted me back to that land of dreaming big. Oxenhandler had the courage to do it, so dammit, so can I!
A few nights after finishing her book, I spent a few minutes really articulating a few wishes. No, I'm not going to list them all here for the blogosphere to read. Somehow, they feel private. But it's no joke that I write and that I want to publish a book; that my manuscript is in a couple busy agents' hands and that I'm now plowing through a new historical-crossover-YA book using the Book In A Month workbook as a guide. Obviously one of my wishes is to get published, so I wrote it down in a specific way, as well as wishing for focus in my writing practice.
I don't know what it was, but I really have been focused. The last two mornings, I've packed up my laptop,i-pod and notes after dropping the boys off at preschool and have written twenty pages in two days. This is not normal for me. Most days I can squeeze out four, maybe five pages if the creative gods shine on my overcrowded head.
Last night I was feeling pretty sassy for my ten page writing streak that morning. With Robbie away playing hockey and the boys exhausted from swim lessons and nodding off at dinnertime, I rushed to clean up dinner and chill some beers in the freezer to lounge while watching the So You Think You Can Dance finale. (I know, my taste in television can be questionable but hey, it's summer programming!) Shane passed out at 7pm and Bobby was close behind him. As I finished my chores and opened a beer, what should happens.
POWER OUTAGE!!!!
I was calm and cool. I had 45 minutes til showtime and even if I didn't get the power back right away, the show lasts two hours so I was guarenteed to get my fill of dancing drama. I put the boys to sleep and read as the light faded outside, peeked out the window to make sure my house wasn't the only house on the street without lights shining through cracked blinds. It wasn't.
Night fell. Another half hour, then another. I lit candles and pulled out my laptop, with a near dead battery, by the way, and began the slow-going process of charting my scenes so far to check for the 'domino effect', assuring there are no holes or unnecessary scenes. Another half hour goes by. Now I'm starting to get pissed. This was supposed to be my night to lounge with my smut tv, without my husband home to glower that the A's game wasn't on instead, with the boys not wired from unspent energy.
I worked over an hour on my scene tracking just as the laptop faded to black. Just as I pulled out a notebook to scribble about the irony of the universe forcing me to work on my book instead of watch a tv show I've been looking forward to since, well since it was on last Thursday, the lights blinked back on. At 9:55 pm. By the time my satellite signal found my television, the show was summarizing the four dancers and their various routines. I missed every single dance routine.
But I got what I wished for. I found the holes in my novel and did this tedious task last night, rather than this morning where I instead started fresh on more new pages of the book. Wishes are strange beings.
On Monday, I blogged about Noelle Oxenhandler's new memoir "A Wishing Year" here (just scroll down to my post called Musing in the Valley Vineyards: On Wishing and Writing--not tech savvy enough yet to post the exact url!). The book jolted me back to that land of dreaming big. Oxenhandler had the courage to do it, so dammit, so can I!
A few nights after finishing her book, I spent a few minutes really articulating a few wishes. No, I'm not going to list them all here for the blogosphere to read. Somehow, they feel private. But it's no joke that I write and that I want to publish a book; that my manuscript is in a couple busy agents' hands and that I'm now plowing through a new historical-crossover-YA book using the Book In A Month workbook as a guide. Obviously one of my wishes is to get published, so I wrote it down in a specific way, as well as wishing for focus in my writing practice.
I don't know what it was, but I really have been focused. The last two mornings, I've packed up my laptop,i-pod and notes after dropping the boys off at preschool and have written twenty pages in two days. This is not normal for me. Most days I can squeeze out four, maybe five pages if the creative gods shine on my overcrowded head.
Last night I was feeling pretty sassy for my ten page writing streak that morning. With Robbie away playing hockey and the boys exhausted from swim lessons and nodding off at dinnertime, I rushed to clean up dinner and chill some beers in the freezer to lounge while watching the So You Think You Can Dance finale. (I know, my taste in television can be questionable but hey, it's summer programming!) Shane passed out at 7pm and Bobby was close behind him. As I finished my chores and opened a beer, what should happens.
POWER OUTAGE!!!!
I was calm and cool. I had 45 minutes til showtime and even if I didn't get the power back right away, the show lasts two hours so I was guarenteed to get my fill of dancing drama. I put the boys to sleep and read as the light faded outside, peeked out the window to make sure my house wasn't the only house on the street without lights shining through cracked blinds. It wasn't.
Night fell. Another half hour, then another. I lit candles and pulled out my laptop, with a near dead battery, by the way, and began the slow-going process of charting my scenes so far to check for the 'domino effect', assuring there are no holes or unnecessary scenes. Another half hour goes by. Now I'm starting to get pissed. This was supposed to be my night to lounge with my smut tv, without my husband home to glower that the A's game wasn't on instead, with the boys not wired from unspent energy.
I worked over an hour on my scene tracking just as the laptop faded to black. Just as I pulled out a notebook to scribble about the irony of the universe forcing me to work on my book instead of watch a tv show I've been looking forward to since, well since it was on last Thursday, the lights blinked back on. At 9:55 pm. By the time my satellite signal found my television, the show was summarizing the four dancers and their various routines. I missed every single dance routine.
But I got what I wished for. I found the holes in my novel and did this tedious task last night, rather than this morning where I instead started fresh on more new pages of the book. Wishes are strange beings.
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