I have 43,000 things to do today. Well, about 43,000. I tried to get everything done before now so I could just relax and hang out with my family today but everything just seems to take longer this time of year. So, since I can't just relax today, I'm going to meander through my tasks at a leisurely pace and not set a midday deadline for myself like I normally would (a sure road to fluster if there ever was one).

I may not get a chance to post again today, so I'll say it now.

Merry Christmas or Happy Holidays or Have a great December 25th, whichever suits you.

An especially Merry (first!) Christmas to Owen (and Jacob, Issac and William) and to Miriam (and Naomi).

PS - For the record, you don't have to be a blogger member to comment on my posts, you can skip the password thing and it will post your comment as anonymous. It would be cool if you'd let me know who you are somewhere in your comment though. :P

Is it dumb to post a letter to Santa when you are 33? Too cutesy for a blog?

Oh well.

Dear Santa,

It's like this, sunshine, whenever anyone needs help around here I'm their go-to dame, and while I enjoy that very much, I seriously need a break so I can rejuvenate myself. If you can help me out here, I promise to keep chugging along for my family and friends for another year. (Hell, I'll probably chug along anyway, but the break would help me do it more cheerfully.)

So here's what I'd like:

To go to bed at 2am after writing for a couple of hours (I write best between 11pm and 2am) and sleep until 9 or 10, then get up and exercise and shower before breakfast. Then, I'd have a late breakfast of waffles and fresh strawberries and, after that, I'd do some reading while lying on our new couch.

I think then I'd like to write a little more, and then make some lunch. I'd like to meet someone for coffee in the early afternoon and then maybe do a little shopping. I'd come home and catch up on some blogs and actually be able to comment on them before heading out to supper with my husband. After supper we'd go to a movie, or maybe to hear a band and then we'd return home to two children who have been cared for by doting babysitters all this time and have been tucked into bed, all fed, bathed and cuddled where they sleep soundly until the next morning.

So, yeah, can you see what you can do, Nicky, my friend? I promise I'll keep up the good work on my end.

Thanks,

Mombie

So Doppleganger is up to #47 in her 50 Book challenge and I've been thinking about doing one of my own. (Yes, this is twice removed from being my own idea. Oh, well.)

My twist on it though is that I am going to read (and mini-review) 50 books that I already own in 2006. I may actually own 50 books that I haven't read, or that I've only read short excerpts from, but if not, I'll borrow some others from the library.

I love being surrounded by my own books, even ones I haven't read, but I don't like that I own so many that I keep meaning to read but never get around to it. This challenge should help me keep a regular reading schedule of non-fiction or more literary fiction and reviewing each book should make me think about it more deeply than I would otherwise.

I got more out of my reading when I was in university, the challenge of having to present my ideas in the classroom was great motivation to really absorb a book and I often found myself coming up with new thoughts on the book while I was presenting my first ones. I really want to get past needing the group interactions to really dig into an author's ideas.

Can someone who is working on her writing career, wrangling two small kids, running a theatre company, chairing an arts organization and coaching an improv team, (not to mention maintaining a great marriage) really find time to read (almost) a book a week for a year? Well, let's see.

My fingers are crossed.

Or something like that.

I took the boys to a Christmas party at the library today. I thought it was a kids' event but it was a kids'/seniors' event, which is cool, but those are two groups with vastly differing abilities to sit still. We had a good time, but if I had organized it, I would have mixed things up a little more to keep the kids from going stir-crazy.

The featured attractions in order from normalcy to WTF were:

1) The Mayor reading The Night Before Christmas*

2) A slowed-down, off-key sing-a-long

3) A guy telling old timey stories about outport Newfoundland

4) A librarian dressed as an (less-than-completely-cheery)elf

5) A librarian dressed as a mummer

6) My former boss (from my museum days) in the role of Santa

7) An Elvis impersonator

Caught you with that last one, didn't I?

The guy's good, but what the hell does an Elvis impersonator have to do with Christmas? And not only that, but this is the second time he has performed at the library in a month. I hope that he has some familial connection with one of the librarians or there is something really odd going on. I can't trace the logical steps from the library to an Elvis impersonator**.

*Nice job dealing with the wee hooligans, Mr. Kent.

** A funny sidenote: The Boy doesn't know who Elvis is, of course, but on his Yoga DVD (Yoga for the Kid in All of Us. It's good!) there is a segment called Cooking with the King (it's a weird, funny Yoga program) in which the host impersonates Elvis making a really gross, really complicated sandwich (it's for 'sandwich pose' a moving sort of stretch). So The Boy says, upon seeing 'Elvis', 'Is that the guy who makes the sandwich on my Yoga DVD? Is that 'The King'? Why is he wearing a red shirt instead of a blue shirt?' My answer? 'Yep, that's the king. The red shirt is for Christmas.' Weirdness abounds.

I present for your consideration: The Little Guy

He took a decent nap on Saturday morning, 10:30-12:00 andit seemrd that all was well.

He began his second nap of the day at 3:00pm, and me, The Man and The Boy went downstairs to get the rec room reorganized after everything had been moved for carpet cleaning last week.

The Little Guy awoke at 3:20 demanding the impossible. Near as I can figure, he wanted to be held in mid-air some distance from my body. He didn't want Daddy to perform this acrobatic trick, only I would serve his purpose. When up in my arms he twisted and squirmed until I put him down, once he was down, he whined and fussed, holding on to my legs so I couldn't move. If I picked him up, he'd start squirming again. Repeat, ad infinitum, ad nauseum. He somehow wanted to be updown, a position I never did figure out.

So he was awake until 8:30pm. He sort of slept until 10:30 (he woke up three times and spent a half an hour of that time asleep on my lap in front of the computer. Then at 10:30pm, he awoke with a start and alternated between crawling around the living room and seeking the fabled updown position. Until 2:15am.

Ah, my friends, the saga doesn't end there. He slept solidly until 6:45, and then, armed with a mere 4.5 hours sleep, we once more began the quest for updown.

The man took over for me at 9:30am and I got some rest. The Little Guy energizer-bunnied it until 11:30am, napped for 1.5 hours and then started again. After a lengthy battle, he once again fell asleep at 4:00pm and slept until...4:35!

As I write this, he is dozing and nursing and I have an Xmas party to go to in an hour. I have my fingers crossed that he will sleep well for my sisters (aka - the babysitters).

In theory, babies need more sleep than adults but in practice that doesn't seem to be the case. How does he have the energy to keep going on such little sleep?

I think the answer is clear. He's an energy vampire. He siphons off my reserves while I sleep.

I always find it weird how I get different things out of books at different times.

I'm reading Natalie Goldberg's writing books Writing Down The Bones and Wild Mind. I've read them an enjoyed them before, I've even done a lot of the writing exercises in both but somehow I missed her idea of writing practice being like meditation practice or yoga practice.

I got that I was supposed to write for 10 minutes every day but I didn't catch the comparison to yoga and meditation.

I remember the first time I read Writing Down The Bones I was vaguely put off by the idea of writing with no purpose*, of filling notebook after notebook with daily 10 minute ramblings on whatever topic came to mind. With so little time for writing, it seemed rather silly to deliberately write something that had no possiblity of ever getting published** and my head was full of other things I wanted to write for possible publication.

Of course, I never actually wrote any of those things.

This time when I read her books the notion of writing for writing's sake really struck me. Just as I do yoga, and I find that the more I practice the more I get out of it, it was suddenly clear that the more I write the more I'll get out of it. That the 'no purpose' writing is to get my brain into the right (write?) space for working.

I think a lot of things set me up for absorbing her message thoroughly this time. I've had lots of conversations about writing with Meagan, including the all important one in which explained to me how to focus my writing topics. I've learned the value of plugging away at a task for just 10 or 15 minutes at time until it is done***. And I'm reading at a time when writing is much more important to me than ever before. When I read it them the first time, I was working full time and busy with my theatre company and I had the feeling that I had no time to waste. Of course, I actually wasted lots of time but I always felt busy.

Now my writing has become a much bigger part of my sense of self. And with a one year old and four year old, it is really hard to find time for my own interests, but I do. And writing is such a satisfying thing to do for myself, it requires such focus and makes me use my whole brain and when I'm done I am full of energy, like I've somehow flicked a switch to on (or perhaps to eleven :)).

This past week, I've exercised every day, I've written in my journal every day, done a blog entry every day and I've done 10 minutes of writing practice every day. And I feel more present than ever when I'm with my kids.

I don't think this is a coincidence.

*or what I thought of as no purpose but read on, read on.

**I assume no one is looking for an essay on 'I remember' or 'orange'

*** I wish I had learned this lesson when I was writing my MA thesis, I would have been finished a lot quicker. Ack!

So, I've gotten some spam from some very interesting people lately.

I thought I was doing well with my mail from 'Reportedly U. Bellowed' but then I got a note from 'Rapscallion P. Spoonerism'*

Of course, both of those emails were put to shame by the email I received from Kofi Annan today. Yes, folks, the Secretary General of the United Nations has sent me a personal letter, requesting my help in moving some funds and offering me a 10% handling fee for doing so. He also requested my confidentiality but I'm way too excited. I mean, Kofi Annan! How did he pick me out of the millions of people in the world?

You know, it's a shame he and his wife, Nane, didn't mention this problem he is having with 'reprofilling' some money when they were on that anti-racism spot with the Sesame Street characters, that could have given the problem some valuable exposure. I really wouldn't have been offended if he had asked for my help with both problems at once. And it would have saved him the trouble of writing me an email. It must have been a difficult email to write because it is littered with spelling and grammatical errors. Now, I'm not one of those people who thinks that the whole world should speak English, but you would think that Annan would have someone on staff that could have helped him edit. Or that he would have thought to run spellcheck before sending his valuable missive.

Why on earth do these spammers keep doing this? I mean doesn't anyone really think that the Secretary General of the UN is writing to them requesting help with some shady deals? Are people really buying "Rolex" watches via email?

I guess some people somewhere must be supporting this industry. I shudder to think who.

*I adore the word rapscallion. I think I will use it more often, that is, I think I will start using it as of now. That, and strumpet too. Strumpet is one seriously underused word. In fact I think my friend Bill is the only person on earth to use the word since 1909, but its revitalization starts here, baby!

So the quality of my days depends heavily on whether The Little Guy sleeps on schedule. If he goes for his morning nap between 9:30 and 10 and sleeps until 11:00 or 11:30. I get a chance to exercise, play some games/read with The Boy, and then take a shower. If he only takes a short nap, naps at the wrong time (starting any later than 11), or doesn't nap at all, then I may not get to exercise, I have to shift my shower to his afternoon nap, (or worse, take him in the shower with me) and I definitely don't get any one on one time with The Boy.

Then, if he naps in the afternoon, I get to bake or make crafts with The Boy, do a little housework or some writing, and figure out what to make for supper. If he doesn't nap, then 6pm (when The Man gets home) begins to feel like an unreachable goal. The day is just too long with Baby No-nap.

On a good day, like today, when the carpet cleaning guy caught a glimpse of idyllic motherhood* as I baked cookies with The Boy, while singing to The Little Guy to entertain him, this mothering gig feels fun and easy. On a bad day, like Monday, I end up feeling like I've failed everyone: I can't keep The Little Guy happy because he is all out of sorts from not sleeping. I can't keep The Boy happy because he hasn't had any undivided attention, I'm not happy because I either had to sacrifice my shower or my exercise time and I'm tired and my shoulders hurt. And The Man is not happy because he comes home to crazy house**.

*It was an odd moment because I imagined him going home to his girlfriend whose kid might have had a bad day and saying 'I saw this woman today, she was baking cookies and singing to her kid and being all cheery while her four year old helped her.' And that his impression would be off, because it was only one glmpse of my life. Perhaps another day he would have walked in as I was sitting in the hallway trying to get two kids into snowsuits, with The Little Guy protesting loudly and The Boy stomping because he wanted to be outside already, and I would be muttering 'damn universe, cut me some slack here, I'm trying to be a good mom and take my kids outside.' Overall, I think I come out more on the cookie-baking side or at least I hope I do!

**Note: The Man is NOT one of those men who expects me to have everything perfect when he returns or anything ridiculous like that but when he comes home to a frazzled wife and two crazed kids, he feels bad that I had to deal with all the crazy on my own. The Man is one of those Dads who would stay home all the time if we were independently wealthy (or if my writing takes off and we become superrich!), he's not using work as an escape from home.

Okay, well it is still ridiculous to label me as 'punk rock' anything, but I think maybe it was just the title that was off, not the description*. Imagine if you will, the following exchange between myself and The Boy last night.

Act 1, Scene 1

Mombie, a devastatingly attractive woman in her early 30s, sits at her computer, willing herself to complete her current contract work. Her eldest son, The Boy, a charming four year old child who looks remarkably like his father enters.

The Boy: Mommy, I want you to type something for me.

Mombie: What do you want me to type?

The Boy : cartoonnetwork.com, I want to play a game on the computer.

Mombie: No, Sweetie, Mommy has to work now.

The Boy: But I just want to play one game.

Mombie: I'm sorry but it's time for Mommy to work right now.

The Boy : (makes inarticulate sound of frustration)

Mombie: The Boy, I understand that you are frustrated, but this is Mommy's computer and it is time for me to do my work.

The Boy: It's not your computer.

Mombie: It is my computer, now go play with Daddy.

The Boy: No, Mommy, it's the whole family's computer and I need a turn too.

Mombie: (temporarily dumbstruck) That's true it is the whole family's computer but it is still my turn with it right now...

(offstage) The Man: The Boy, why don't you come and play a Playstation game with me?

The Boy exits.

I didn't know whether to get annoyed at him for arguing with me or to glow with pride at his logic. Man, this kid-wrangling thing is crazy!

* Note - I am in no way suggesting that online personality tests are valid, nor I am suggesting that I invest a lot in the results. This intro is just an elaborate way for me to show off what a cute kid I've got, aren't I clever!**

**Or something.