Bits and Pieces

thought for the day

Fri, 24 Apr 2009 08:38:49 GMT

ahem

The house is a mess
And I don't care,
Because I have a date
With a story there

No, that doesn't work.

Ahem, second try.

The house is a mess
And I don't care
Because I have a date
With my writing chair.

Better, but I'm sat on the sofa, so not strictly true.

The house is a mess
Who gives a monkey
I have a story
That's fun and funky.

Procrastination's really bad
Although it can be fun
Open up the writing file
And kick it up the bum

Fri, 06 Mar 2009 14:00:46 GMT

Yesterday was World Book Day. A day that is celebrated, by children across the UK dressing up as characters from books.
          'I don't like dressing up,' said Monster, when we got the text message from the school announcing WBD and the need for a costume.
           You could go as a little boy, like Harry from Harry and his Bucket Full of Dinosaurs.'
           Monster screws up his face doubtfully.
          ' What about a pirate? You could be Captain Pike, From Captain Pike Looks After The Baby.'
           Monster shakes his head. 'Can I be a train driver?'
          'Yes, what book has a train driver in it?
           'Duffy Driver in the LIttle Red Train.'

We searched on the Internet for a Train Driver costume. They aren't easy to find (at a reasonable price). Eventually we found a pilots uniform that could be modified. We order one. My son is tall, so I order the large size. Big mistake. The uniform is huge. I spend the night before WBD sewing up the sleeves and trouser hems. It's still too big, but wearable-just.

Thursday morning we turn up at school to be greeted by, spiderman, sportacus, a pink kitty-
            'You're Puss In Boots?' I half asked, half said. (The child was wearing pink boots)
            'No,' child replied indignant. 'Puss in Boots is orange.'
             I sigh. I know Puss in Boots was unlikely to be pink (very few cats are!), but it's only in Shrek that he's orange.

So, I went home feeling like an old fuddy duddy, muttering under my breath- dressing up as T.V characters is NOT the spirit of WBD.

Last night in bed I thought about WBD. Dressing up just isn't enough of a celebration. Next year I promise to do more. Next year I think we (our family) should make books for each other. Buy a book to add to the mountain already in the house. Find out about anywhere we can donate books. Write a letter to an author.

Now I'll be waiting for WBD the same way Monster waits for Christmas.

Focus, or lack of it

Mon, 10 Nov 2008 13:39:19 GMT

Recently I saw a talk show interview with a British celeb (b list) who has become a successful children's writer. She freely admitted to using a ghost writer, (kudos to her) but the stories are HER ideas and characters. She reads every word of the written draft and gives feedback on whether her vision is being met by the writer. The interviewers supported how hard she worked on the books.
That's the easy bit!!!!! I screamed at the T.V screen, then I turned it off in a fit of despondency.

You see, I'm having trouble focusing. I have rough drafts and half written stories. I flit between them. I change them from picture book, to early readers, to midgrades and then I end up with nothing. I need a ghost writer.

So, the plan for the month is to focus. Now, do I focus on the midgrade, the easy reader (that may possibly graduate to a midgrade) the webpage (that will make money)...
...you know I think my windows need washing, when was the last time I dusted those light bulbs, (oh yeah, I never do that) I definitely need to sort out the daughter's wardrobe...
lalalalala

The ups and down of a monster starting school

Fri, 03 Oct 2008 11:44:27 GMT

How typical of me, say I'm back and then not post. Monster started school 2.5 weeks ago. I have been enjoying the six hours chat free. My monster was a late talker, but now he can chat underwater eating a sandwich and nothing encourages him to be quiet. The toddler monster has an afternoon nap. I am weak at the knees because I have over an hour a day of QUIET writing time. Ahh, it's bliss. And I am actually writing, something I don't feel I've successfully done since conceiving monster number 2.

BUT...

I am missing my big Monster. I miss walking into shops and a little voice telling the shop assistants the Theory of Evolution (well, his limited understanding of the theory)
I miss him rendering them speechless by asking if a ghost comes into the shop at night. (The shop assistants never know whether to play along or not.)
I miss the spontaneous story ideas he comes up with, (like Mr Nobody the babysitter who steals his toys.)

Monsters reaction to school has been mixed. The first day he was looking forward to it. We'd barely walked through the door before he was saying goodbye mum. (sob!)
The second day he said he liked it, but it was a very long day.
The second week he was complaining that he spends all his time at school and not enough at home. I refrained from saying- that's life for the next 12 years, 15 (or more) if you go to university.

Soon, the toddler monster will start nursery. I wonder if I will miss following her around the house picking up half masticated food (eww!)
If I will miss tanties every time I say no.
And if I will miss wiping 'artwork' off the walls and floor and basically any flat surface.

Testing, testing, 123, is this thing on??

Sun, 07 Sep 2008 13:44:01 GMT

I haven't written on this thing since last year. I'm ashamed that I didn't reply to Tamara and Tamra. Thank you both for your encouraging words. Thank you Mona for commenting and reminding me I have an empty journal as well as for your kind words. Tamra, it'll be months before I have a readable draft of that story, but when I do can I send it to you.

I lost my way. I'm slowly clawing it back. Rereading the basics is helping. Most important advice I've read is- start making sure you have some regular writing time. I have time and I've been wasting it. I hate admitting that. I'm not going to whine or make excuses, I'm just going to promise that I'm back.

Off to write!

how to eat, baby style

Wed, 28 Nov 2007 19:39:52 GMT

Lottie is off her food. She got her first tooth the other day and I think all her teeth have decided to come at once. She's not eating. I can get around four mouthfuls down her before she purses her lips and turns her head. I've become so desperate that I'm considering feeding her biscuits for every meal because then at least she will eat something.

So today, I made her mashed potato and cheese. I placed a rusk, an oatcake and a small piece of bread on the tray in front of her in case she decided to feed herself. She threw them on the floor. She turned her head from the mash. I gave up and took her out of the chair. I left the mess on the floor because the food battles are getting me down and I just coulldn't face it. Five minutes later she is eating the oat cake off the floor!

Why? Does it taste different on the floor? Is fiood only good if eaten where dirty feet have trodden.

Maybe I should just leave a trail of crumbs around the house for her to follow like Hansel and Gretel.

Weird and interesting thingy

Tue, 16 Oct 2007 19:21:12 GMT

I found this article
Which way round is the figure spinning for you?
For me she was turning clockwise, which surprised me. Being right handed I expected the left side of my brain to be dominant. At first I couldn't make her turn the other way, then, while reading the list of what each side of the brain did I looked at her out of the corner of my eye and noticed that she had changed direction.

Lunchtime convosations

Thu, 11 Oct 2007 13:28:01 GMT

Earlier today Dom, Charlotte and I were having a relaxing family lunch when Dom came out with the question, ‘can babies have babies?’

I took a couple of seconds to compute the question and replied, ‘no, only grown up women have babies.’

Then I thought about how I was giving Dom assumptions about women’s roles in life and amended it to, ‘some grown up women have babies if they want to?’

You can guess what the next question was, can’t you?

‘How does the baby get in the mummy’s tummy?’

But it was okay, I knew the answer to this. Everyone knows what to say when this question is asked by young children and the answer keeps the child happy until the age of about 7/8.

‘Mummy has a special cuddle with Daddy and that makes the baby,’ I said, confident that I could relax now for another 3 or 4 years.

‘How do you do the special cuddle?’

I sat in stunned silence. Dom wasn’t following the script, what do I say.

‘I want to see the special cuddle,’ continues Dom.

A rather nervous giggle escaped me.

‘You can’t see the special cuddle, it’s a private thing between mummies and daddies.’

‘But I want to do the special cuddle with you and daddy and charlotte!’

At this point my rational mind ran out of the door red with embarrassment to have a school girly giggle outside.

‘How about you, me, Daddy and Charlotte have a family cuddle,’ I said. ‘That a nice thing to do.’

Luckily this catches on and Dom starts talking about inane things about family cuddles and who will hold Charlotte etc. I mentally curse whoever came up with the special cuddle phrase when talking about the birds and the bees. To think this time last year I was worried because he wasn’t talking.

Nursery First day, Bad day

Mon, 17 Sep 2007 20:44:28 GMT

Dom had his first day at a new nursery today. I was looking forward to some toddler free time and Dom was looking forward to playing with the trains, home corner, water, etc.

We woke up bright and early so we would have a calm morning getting ready. Despite having loads of time, it some how got away from me and I ended up running out of the door with my hair half done and Lottie was in some daggy old ‘house clothes’ that I’d found in the drawer.

It’s okay, I thought. The nursery is only five minutes away. Lottie can get wrapped up in her Buggy Snuggle so no one will see her grottiness and I’ll just drop Dom off then come home, finishing doing my hair, have a drink catch up on emails/crits and do some WRITING.

We arrived. I showed hubby where Dom’s classroom was so he would know where to drop the little monster off in the mornings. Dom happily wondered off into the playground and found something to play with. The teacher offered us a tour of the nursery and it slowly became apparent, that we were expected to stay. Unfortunately we weren’t expecting to stay.

‘Take Charlotte,’ I said to hubby.

‘I have loads of work to do today, I have the weekend post to get out,’ he replied and off he toddled, (which was fair enough as he is the breadwinner in the family and it is imossible to do work with a baby crawling around.)

So, I stayed with Dom and followed him around (with Lottie in my arms) as he went from activity to activity, happily playing independently. Everyone cooed over Lottie and no one mentioned that she was inappropriately dressed in light weight ¾ length leggings and no socks on a cool day, but I bet they were thinking it.

Things were going well, until Lottie filled her nappy. I didn’t expect to be staying so I hadn’t brought a change. I carried her about hoping that others couldn’t smell her and feeling guilty that she was sitting in her own mess. Finally I clutched at straws and hoped that I’d put a nappy under the pram. The caretaker unlocked the door so I could go out to the pram and check. I’d brought the small changing mat, wipes and the plastic bags. In fact, I’d brought everything except a nappy. Lottie was starting to leak, so I had no choice but to leave early. I asked the teacher what would be happening tomorrow. Was I still expected to stay?

‘You can go into the family room tomorrow,’ she told me in her broad Irish accent. ‘So make you sure you bring a nappy for the baby.’

Dom got upset that we were leaving early. I got upset that I looked like an idiot who under dressed her baby and couldn’t even remember to bring a nappy when going out. The thing is, I don’t remember them telling me I had to stay. Hubby (who was there when the teachers did the home visit and told us the details about the first day) doesn’t remember them telling us we had to stay.

I can make a new impression tomorrow, right? I can convince the teachers that I am a together mother, can’t I? Please tell me that the first day of school will be better! At least Dom had a good morning, even if it was a little shorter than expected.

Wed, 05 Sep 2007 20:28:14 GMT

It's my birthday.
MIL bought me new make up(clinique)-yay
Son (with hubby's help) bought me a silver train charm- I love it because he loves train.
Hubby will pay for me to go to a writers conference in Nov- wet myself with excitement yay (that isn't literally)
I bought elderflower wine. It tastes very bad- boo
I'm another year older- shrug

Park loos

Thu, 16 Aug 2007 07:55:53 GMT

We've had two weeks of sunshine. All praise the sun god Apollo for finally gracing us with his presence. To celebrate Dom Lottie and I have been checking out the local parks. This means also checking out the park amenities, which are always a little, ummm...~~fruity~~...~~spicy~~...cesspooly (yes I have to create a new word)

I try to put it off (we all go before we leave the house) but on a hot day we have to drink lots of water and that leads to the inevitable. I delicately walked into one particular cesspool encouraging Dom to avoid the puddles on the cement floor. We got into the cubicle (that had no loo paper) and Dom suddenly notices the graffiti.

'Mummy, what does that say?'
I should have lied, but I'm no good at lying, so instead I said in my primmest voice.
'I'm not reading that to you. Some naughty people have written not very nice words on the door and I will NEVER read them to you.'
Dom just finishes his business. And we leave the loo with Dom shaking his wet hands all over the queuing people because there were no dryers.

I'm thinking of taking a black marker pen with me next time I go into a park loo and writing some Julia Donaldon, or some Michael Rosen on the walls and door. I'm sure mothers will be grateful to have the choice of reading WE'RE GOING ON A BEAR HUNT, or THE GRUFFALO to their toileting little ones rather than obscenities or the boring GAZZ IZ HOT. I LUV JAY 4EVA etc And, I'm sure kids will enjoy it. Shame it'll be vandalism.

Books

Mon, 13 Aug 2007 09:34:45 GMT

Well, it’s been ages since I’ve posted. The kids have recovered from chicken pox and I managed to survive with a shred of sanity. Only a shred mind you.

I have the mammoth task of sorting out my books. I arrived in the UK with three books. Eleven years later we have them piled up in a couple of cupboards. I have to sort them. We are desperate for the space, but I can’t get rid of them.

A couple of things I’ve learnt about myself from sorting my books.

-I make too many impulse buys. There are loads of books with a 3 for 2 sticker on that I have not read and I keep looking at and thinking –nah. Yet, I can’t get rid of them.

-I get suckered in by tourist books every time we visit somewhere. We have guides about Hampton Court, the Vatican City, the Tower and the Green Man etc. I buy them just in case the place is featured in a story and it’s research. Thus far I have never used any of them. And yet I can’t get rid of them.

I have plans, when I’m and older and greyer I’m going to be the mad book lady. My house will be floor to ceiling in books. The kids in the area will whisper about the mad book lady. There will be rumours that she’s a witch and all her books are full of spells. Or better yet, the books are actually people who have crossed her and she’s changed them into books. On dark nights you can hear the books telling their stories and asking for help on the breeze.

Anyway, I’d better sort the books and postpone the creation of the mad book lady for a little while.

the dreaded pox

Tue, 29 May 2007 12:34:07 GMT

Just as one child recovers from the pox, the other child wakes up with a small cluster of spots around her neck. AAHHHHHHHHHHHH! Another week confined to the house.

Soon I will start to doubt there is an outside world.

Dom's chicken pox story

Tue, 22 May 2007 20:39:18 GMT

When I told them that Dom had chicken pox, my crit group suggested there could be a story. So, here is the story of Dom's chicken pox, staring teddies.

On Thursday I woke up with a couple of spots. I rang everyone I know and told them I have chicken pops in my sad voice. On Friday I had more spots. I looked like this- On Saturday I felt really poorly, so I lay on the couch all day On Sunday I felt better, but I was still spotty. Mum said I couldn't go out, so I played bus driver with my toys. And that kept me busy for 5 minutes I played Lego with Dad And that kept me busy for 5 minutes I played Little People with Mum. And that kept me busy for another 5 minutes. In less than half an hour my room was a mess! On Monday I made a salt dough train and painted it. And that kept me busy for 5 minutes The clean up kept mummy busy for half an hour Today I did cooking. And that kept me busy for 5 minutes. The eating kept me busy for 4

My spots have scabbed now and Mummy is hoping they heal up quickly so that I can go to nursery. Then they can keep me busy- FOR 5 MINUTES

Sat, 12 May 2007 19:27:32 GMT

This morning I played hunt the grater. My ever loving husband emptied the dishwasher. Whenever he empties the dishwasher there is always an item that is not put back in it's usual place. Today it was the grater. I eventually found it in a drawer, it should be in a cupboard. Whenever hubby does the dishwasher he will always find a new spot for various items, like the grater, or a measuring jug, wodden spoon etc. I tend to give up and start keeping the item where hubby puts it. The thing is, once I do that, he will then find a new place to put said item and I have to play hunt the kitchen utensil all over again.
I am 99% sure he does not do this on purpose. I've never seen him smirk, laugh or even realise I am playing hunt the kitchen utensil. It's just one of his unique quirks.

Monster Name

Wed, 09 May 2007 09:07:13 GMT

Get Your Monster Name

Not sure about being a cheerleader harming monster. Cheerleaders are a rare breed in the UK. Maybe that's why I'm here, to suppress the need to harm energetic young girls who can do backflips and spell with their body

Pretty in Pink

Tue, 08 May 2007 12:10:07 GMT

Was just getting Dom's clothes ready to get dressed. Convo went like this-

Me- there's no point in putting you in something nice you are going to Grandmas (before you all think I am horrible, he always gets really grubby at Grandmas)

Dom- I want a pretty top.

I hold up a monster top that he quite likes.

Me- is this a pretty top?

Dom looks at me like I am stupid.

Dom- no mummy, that's green. I want a pretty top.

Me- What's wrong with green.

Dom- I want a PINK one.

Of course! How could I not know that all pretty tops are pink? I then had to explain that we had no pink tops in his size.

Child free time (thank all high beings for grandmothers who will kidnap grandchildren for a day to play), I'm off to write write writy write

I must resist

Wed, 18 Apr 2007 16:05:10 GMT

Bluebell Madonna's mother has decided like so many people that now she has a child she can write for children. I don't want to trash it, because it is so easy to trash celebrity books. Lets face it, they are a fact of life and the unpublished like me has to get over that a famous name will get any drivel published.

Anyway, you can check out the details here and decide for yourself if the story has merit. I always feel that if you have to put on a twee voice to read a story, then it's a twee condescending story. But, don't let that put you off this 'inspirational, flawed, well rounded character.'

brainstorming help

Wed, 21 Feb 2007 09:07:13 GMT

Can anyone give me some good child like dinosaur questions? It's for a story I want to write.
thanks

At Long Last

Sat, 09 Dec 2006 20:55:21 GMT

I had a baby girl on the 7th of December. Would love to say that she is gorgeous, but if I am honest she's a bit of a hairy, yeti and she frowns like an old woman. I adore her and god help anyone else who doesn't gush over her!
Too tired to say much more and am about to go to bed as I should sleep when the baby and the almost three year old are asleep, otherwise I will get none.

Oh and hairy, yeti crone has the beautiful name Charlotte.

Mon, 13 Nov 2006 20:04:45 GMT

I am finally 37 weeks. This baby is cooked and ready to come out. Of course, there is absolutely no sign that the baby is going to come any time soon. I begin this nesting thing and start cleaning the house, only to find that five minutes later it's a mess again. (Why can't an almost 3 year old and a 33 year old clean up after themselves?) So, instead of nesting I end up doing a beached whale impression and sitting on the sofa vegging out.
I haven't blogged for ages because I feel moany and I don't want to moan all the time. I've had an easy pregnancy with only the usual niggles and it's not long to go now.

In other news we took our almost 3 year old to the speech therapist because his speaking is so delayed. She thinks it's something that he will eventually develop. We did discover that he uses almost no verbs. So, now the poor child has a running commentary on everything he does.

me- lets do some jumping. What are we doing, we are jumping. JUUUUUUUMMMMMPPPing
Almost 3 year old has a great time jumping around the house without the urge to repeat anything I am saying.

We do similar things with eating, walking etc. That's when we aren't singing songs involving verbs, such as-

(tune of row your boat)
Walk, walk walk along,
Walk along the street.
Merrily merrily merrily merrily,
Say walk and you'll get a treat.

3 year old walks along ignoring me and I look like an idiot singing badly made up nursery rhymes.

Fri, 22 Sep 2006 06:34:56 GMT

My computer has gone kaput. I'm having to share hubby's, which means less access. So, yesterday morning I started writing lists for things I need to organise in the next two months. We did the Christmas and birthday list for 2 year old. Very exciting. I love toys and could do with some new ones to play with.

Then I decided to write a list for things to go into the hospital bag for when I have this baby. I thought of all types of practical stuff for me, toiletries, PJs, towel, etc. Then I thought about the baby and put down babygro. Afterall, how much does a newborn baby need. Hubby gave me a funny look and said, nappies, cotton wool for cleaning the bum area, a hat to keep the head warm...

With 2 year old I'm sure I had a comprehensive list and was starting to get stuff together by now. I really don't feel 'ready' for this baby at the moment. I hate being pregnant (although I have a fairly easy pregnancy) but I suspect that the babs will be easier inside than out.

What kind of reader are you?

Tue, 19 Sep 2006 14:22:04 GMT

I recently bought the book WICKED. In theory it is my kind of book; derivative of a classic, about witches, and is a fantasy. I am finding the book hard going. I am trying to read it, but I find the characters spend too long explaining about the politics of Oz and things are unnecessarily complicated.

Hubby isn't impressed, because I splurged and bought the hardback. He thinks I should skim read it, but I've never got the hang of doing that. I'm afraid I may miss something.

I think reading so many children's books have ruined reading adult books for me. I now read like a child. Quirky characters are good, but they need to do things, not just be quirky. I want a story that goes somewhere and I can see that it is going somewhere. Something has to happen in every chapter, it can't be a section of clever words and quirkiness.

So, I've come to the conclusion I read like a child.

random thoughts

Thu, 31 Aug 2006 17:00:44 GMT

I've sat here pretty much all day at the computer and I've rewritten the first two chapters. Yes, I've had lots of quick breaks to look at live journal and email. Usually when I am stuck. I've been stuck loads. This story is like a metaphore for doing something impossible. I can't quit. I tried for 7 months.

The baby kicked me just under the ribs most of the day. It always kicks when I am sitting at the computer. I've had to guzzle gaviscon and that stuff is vile. 13 weeks and this kid is gone.

I should go pick up my Monster from the MIL. I love that she had him this arvo. I love that I had a whole writing day and I didn't waste it. I love my husband who has left me alone and not asked me to do any work for him.

I think I have computer delirium

Writing with no purpose

Thu, 24 Aug 2006 09:10:26 GMT

Send a message in a bottle. I spend far too long trying to think of something to say. Writing without a purpose just isn't me. However, I had to share as it's strangely addictive getting random messages.

Okay, thought of something. Just sent a bottle message saying that BABY CAN'T SLEEP, STAR BABY and TWIN TO TWIN are great picture books. I should give up trying to say anything profound and just get back to writing.