By: Kathleen
Alex, Julianna, Nicholas, pregnancy, writing, ,

7 Quick Takes

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Alex brought home a sheet of paper this week from school. I have no idea what it was for, but it said:
“In 25 years I will be 31.
I would like to be a
scientist and train driver.
I will get married.”
 
Go for it, boy. 🙂
 
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As I was getting ready for bed last night, I caught sight of myself in the mirror and realized…holy cow, I’m showing already. This news does not excite me. I’m only 8 weeks. As I said to the doctor on Monday, I’m nervous that I outran my grace period with my first three pregnancies, and I’ll be dealing with the swollen fingers and ankles and out-of-control weight gain that others have always dealt with. I wince. I cringe. I shrug, and go on. Eighteen months and I can pursue weight loss for real.
 
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I often say that Julianna’s a 2-year-old in a 4-year-old’s body. But I realized last weekend that I’m not giving her credit. Labels like that are handy and succinct, but she’s more emotionally mature than that. She sat in the car the other day pointing to letters and attempting to say their names. For all that her attempts at communication are (usually) limited to grunts and yells, the girl knows how to say “w” and “k” and “g” and several vowels–and she can connect many of them to the letters. It’s just really hard for her to control the fine muscles in lips and tongue to get them out. But for the first time, I see speech on the horizon. And reading.
 
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Meanwhile, Nicholas is toilet training. Theoretically. He’s in that annoying stage where they do great sometimes and categorically refuse others. Only “great” is an exaggeration, because he categorically refuses to cooperate with the #2 issue. I’ll just stop there. Let’s just say battle lines are drawn.
 
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Oh, yes, speaking of Nicholas. My apologies to all who saw this on FB yesterday: My beautiful cheesecake cooling before I ran upstairs to put a load of laundry in the wash:
 
 And what I found when I came back downstairs with a folded tablecloth in hand:
 
 
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Tomorrow’s my date with destiny (tongue firmly in cheek): the day I sing the Alma Mater on stage with Sheryl Crow. 🙂 Wish me luck. I’ll be fine as long as my voice doesn’t unexpectedly go south (you worry about these things when you get paid to sing!).

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I often think that people’s rules about writing are a sign of lack of creativity.

For instance: Conventional wisdom says you must limit POV characters–but how many books have you read that hop from head to head (between scenes…even within them, though that drives me nuts)? And they work. Like the one I’m reading now: The Forgotten Garden. Magical. I’ve lost count of how many POVs. It’s a lot. And not all of them are major characters–major, yes, they have a purpose the story would falter without. But major, as in they are developed and someone we’re supposed to empathize with, have a character arc for? No. And yet it needs to be in their POV for the author’s purpose–and it works.

I may just have to thumb my nose at the rules. But maybe I should get published first. 🙂
 
 Have a great weekend!
 

7 quick takes sm1 7 Quick Takes Friday (vol. 126)