Yet Another Backstory

Today, my all time favorite story to research and write ran in the Danville Weekly. I had the great privilege to meet and interview best-selling author Terry McMillan.

When I originally pitched this idea to my editor last summer, another freelancer was working the story, so I was told "Sorry, already assigned." I was such a new writer I figured it was all for the best. Last fall, while I was discussing story ideas with the same editor, she mentioned the story fell through for the other writer and asked if I was still interested. A long-time fan of Terry McMillan's books and movies, I jumped on it. My deadline was 'whenever' and the conversation ended with a 'good luck' from the editor. The holidays hit and while I didn't forget the story, I did nothing to pursue it.

So, long about January, I decided to start working the story. I googled McMillan's name and found her web site. On a lark, I sent a note to the 'contact us' email address introducing myself and describing the story I wanted to write. A couple of days later, I was stunned to see the name "Terry McMillan" pop into my inbox. She agreed to the interview and gave me a number to call. I was thrilled, and then I realized, I had never really done a story like this before. I mean, really, she is a celebrated literary type. I'm a newby freelancer. And good God, that meant she would read my story. That's when the nerves hit me.

A false start later, we set a date, time and location for the interview. I read her first book, 'Mama' to prepare for the interview as well as her most recent book, 'The Interruption of Everything'. I absolutely loved 'Mama.' The paper hired a professional photographer for me to work with and I was all set.

The morning of the interview my nerves were as tight as the strings on a guitar. I was torn between the excitement of meeting someone who's work I admired and the fear of trying to interview someone who knew Oprah, personally. Why did I think this was a good idea? And the whole thing about a real writer reading my work made me physically ill. It was too late to get out of it, so in I went to the interview.

Ninety minutes later I left with an incredible interview and an even better experience. A couple of things: 1) She has a fascinating life story. 2.) She has an amazing amount of energy. 3.) She is hot for a woman any age and I hope I look half as good as she does at 55.

Writing the story itself was easy, but I still lost some sleep last night thinking she might read it today. I don't know if she did or she didn't, but I was happy with how the story turned out. In the end, that is all I could ask.

What a Difference a Year Makes!

This weekend, we hosted our annual beer and pizza party with our wonderful neighbors. They make the homemade pizza with all sorts of specialty toppings and we provide a variety of micro-brewed beers and Livermore Valley wines. This year, our eighth annual, it was our turn to host and we had about 35 people over Saturday night. We had a fabulous time and I was allowed to participate this year--a good thing since we were hosting.

But it got me thinking to where we were last year at this party. It was, without a doubt, the low point in Maggie's transition to our family. This time last year, she wouldn't tolerate being out of my sight for more than 2 seconds. Nap time, bed time, anytime...she had to see me. If there were other people around, she had to be in my arms. If I did put her down, just to rest for a second, she would scream like a banshee. Needless to say, it was horrible taking her anywhere. I was worn out from getting up with her 5 times a night and I was beginning to wonder if we were in serious trouble with her. We had been home over 6 months and while she was making a little progress, times were still tough on the home front.

The night of our pizza and beer party...the very one we co-host...she and I left about 30 minutes after arriving. I couldn't put her down and she freaked if I sat down with her. My only option to keep her quiet was to stand, rock and hold all 22 lbs of her. And if a man even looked at her..while I was standing, rocking and holding her...she would scream. She was miserable. Or may be I was miserable. Either way, it wasn't working and we left before the first pizza emerged from the oven. Alone in my quiet house, I put her to bed and cried my eyes out. The Dad brought me an entire pizza, but it wasn't the same eating it alone in front of the television watching the Food Channel as it was jostling with my neighbors for a slice of the gorgonzola and goat cheese pie.

Thinking back on that time, I'm amazed that the little girl I kissed good night tonight is the same kid. The 2-year-old I tucked into bed this evening is a very easy going little girl today. She is even keeled, sleeps through the night (for the most part) and loves parties. In fact, this morning she told me she wanted to have another party. She still likes to know where I am in crowds, but she is easily tempted from my side by bigger kids doing something fun. She still asks me to pick her up at parties, but it is part of her checking in with me and it never lasts long. She still is very stand-offish with people she doesn't know, but gone are the screams of terror. I can tell when she is uncomfortable, because she will suddenly start hanging around me. That is, until something more interesting happens, then she is off again. It is as if the child I knew for her first 8 months faded away and the delightful child we only saw glimpses of came home to live full-time.

I'll probably never know why she had such a rough transition into our family, but night's like last night, make me realize how far she has come. It made me appreciate how amazingly resilient kids are and in a way, how magic love is. I was tired, frustrated and angry that night a year ago...and somewhere, I found it in me to love that little girl of mine, screams and all. Because even when she was at her most unlovable, I was her Mom and she needed to leave the party. So, we left. Simple as that.

I don't mean to sound holier than thou writing this, and Lord knows, I make my share of parenting mistakes during the day. But I know that night, I did the right thing despite the personal cost to me. And you know, somewhere along the way, those little decisions paid off. Last night I actually saw it. And it was pretty damn cool.

PS I tried to find a link to the Pizza Party from last year and apparently it was so bad, I didn't write about it. I have a tendency to leave the truly ugly details out of the blog to protect my dear mother and waiting parents who read this...no need to scare the newbies...apparently that night didn't make it through my filter.

Tagged!

Ok, ex-Cinderella tagged me and I'm now supposed to write 6 fun facts about myself, then I'm supposed to tag 6 more bloggers. I don't think I can find 6 that haven't already been tagged, so I'll just do my best.

Fact #1: I met my husband in high school and we have been dating since 1984-22 years! Isn't that frightening?

Fact #2: My parents make fun of me because I've always used odd words, like dollop or recumbent in everyday life. My sister thinks I'm a control freak, but she's wrong. How can you be a control freak with a 4 and 2 year old running around?

Fact #3: I've always secretly fantasized about hiring live in help...like Alice on the Brady Bunch. I hate cleaning house, doing laundry and running errands and I figure Alice on the Brady Bunch was the solution to all my problems.

Fact #4: I talk to myself outloud all the time. It's so bad I have to remind myself outloud not to do it in public. My husband will often come into a room and ask me who I'm talking to....but it's no one...only myself. The children have made this habit much worse.

Fact #5: I've been ill during or become deathly ill after two of my three trips to China. (Sorry waiting parents...you should know the truth. It's not an easy place to travel.)

Fact #6: My first rock concert was Andy Gibb when I was 12. "Shadow Dancing", "I Just Wanna Be Your Everything".

So, I suppose I'll tag:

Lisa
Stephanie
Elizabeth
M3
Jen
Johnny

Fun Down Under

We just got back from another wiggly good time with our favorite Aussies, the Wiggles. This time we had great seats: seventh row, center stage. And the girls shook their hips with Wags the Dogs, woke up Jeff and played their air guitars with Murray for 90 straight minutes. Actually, the Magster only made it about 75 minutes. She spent about 15 minutes with her head on my shoulder resting. But when the bubbles came down from the rafters she got her second wind and made it through the rest of the show.

As children's concerts go, the Wiggles really are alot of fun. The tunes are catchy and the show is so high energy, you can't help but sing along. Who can resist 'Toot, toot, chugga, chugga, big red car?' And everyone sings along to "Hot Potato, Hot Potato." They didn't play my personal favorite "Eagle Rock" tonight, but they did play all their classic tunes and a few new ones too.

Since we sat so close to stage, we got a good look at the old boys, and they are well, old. My age at least, and that's saying something. Murray is the only one without a bunch of gray hair, and he's probably just hiding it in that light brown mop top of his.. And one of the dancers looked like he could be Greg's grown son. And that Greg...well, he's got a lot to Wiggle. I'm suspecting the band got their name from the movements his tummy makes while he's "On his way to Wiggle Bay!" That yellow shirt stretched tight around his body is doing him no favors. Then there is Jeff. I really think he needs to have his sleep problem evaluated. And Anthony...all these years and his dancing is still a little suspect.

But you know what, who cares? We sure don't. We had a great time and will miss taking the kids to Wiggles concerts once they out grown them. We realize this could very well be our last Wiggles concert. With La Nina 4, she may think this is too baby-ish next year. We're hoping that doesn't happen until Kindergarten, but you just never know when they will pop out with "Mom, that's for babies." So, tonight as La Nina sprinted to the stage to dance in the mosh pit and I worried every time her shiny black head disappeared out of sight even for a second, the Dad and I savored our time with our favorite Aussies. And you know, I hope they keep on entertaining kids and their parents for many, many years to come.

Experimenting with the Kids

Doesn't it seem the kids just go from one candy laden holiday to the next? Valentines, Easter, Halloween, Christmas...candy, candy, candy, candy. I get so tired of the constant whining for candy. I try to make them eat healthy meals, but man, it's tough when there are hollow chocolate bunnies bounding about the house.

So this morning, I decided to try a little reverse psychology. Nothing like an old mind game to throw the kids for a loop. When the kids were begging for candy before 7am, I told them they could eat as much candy as they wanted as soon as they finished their breakfast.

La Nina downed a bowl of cereal, 5 strawberries, 2 gummy vitamins and a glass of OJ faster than you can say "Sugar Covered Purple Marshmallow Bunnies", and I handed her a bag of candy. She was delighted. I even opened a lollipop for her before 8am. However, the first lollipop was too big (according to her), and I had to throw it away after about 3 minutes. The second lollipop was too "lemony" and we threw that away too. She popped about 10 jelly beans in her mouth, and I didn't hear another request for candy all day long. It was a miracle.

Then along comes the Magster. She, too, wants her candy. I make the same deal with her. Eat your breakfast, then I'll give you the candy. She downs two waffles with peanut butter, her OJ and vitamins faster than you can say, "A spoonful of sugar makes the Magster go round." I hand the bag of candy to the Magster and she heads to the table. I get busy cleaning the kitchen and doing whatever it is that I do in the morning, and the Magster is happily unwrapping chocolate eggs, sucking a lollipop and downing jelly beans all at once. An hour later, the Magster is still at it, but going considerably slower. She looks just a little green around the gills. I'm starting to think perhaps this whole mind game is backfiring and I'm going to be cleaning the carpet again. All of a sudden she looks at me, hands me her considerably lighter bag of candy and leaves the table.

Fast forward to tonight: Usually La Nina is stating she gets candy if she eats her dinner. We're not sure where she got that idea, because it doesn't go like that for her every time she eats her dinner. Tonight, candy is not mentioned. Not. One. Word. I even saw Maggie looking at the candy, but she never asked for it. Both kids ate a decent dinner and I'm hoping I outsmarted the little darlings for once in my life. Maybe I will be tossing the candy very soon.

Mommy, why is the sky blue?

Yes, girls, the sky IS blue, when there are no rain clouds blocking the sun. Girls, this means there will be no napping today. None. You must go out and play. You must ride bikes. You must play chalk. You must run. For hours. The sun is out and we don't know when we will see it again.

Ok, I'm desperate to keep the kids busy. I have resorted to buttons. You can sort them, glue them, string them, stack them and let's not forget...collect them in bags. It kept the kids busy all afternoon yesterday.

The Curse

Last week at book club, several of us Moms were comparing our kids illnesses. As one Mom mentioned she was very tired of cleaning up vomit, I chimed in that La Nina has only thrown up once in 3+ years and Maggie has never thrown up. Once the words were out of my big mouth, I laughed and said, "But the streak will end withing a week, now that I've said this." I hoped my words would reverse the curse. I was wrong.

All last week and through the weekend, La Nina was on perma-whine. There seemed to be nothing wrong with her, she was just whining non-stop. Since my threshold for this behavior is extremely low and I couldn't find a single physical reason for it, I just hoped it was an ugly phase and sent her to her room. Over and over and over again. Yesterday she took 2 naps, and went to bed at 7:30pm. Today the perm-a-whine is gone, and our normal bossy, but cheerful daughter has returned.

Fast forward to this afternoon, still less than 1 week since I uttered the words "Maggie has never thrown up" and I notice Maggie is a little off. She isn't whiny, just sort of clingy. She is refusing to eat (a common thing for Maggie) and she is drinking water like a fish. After her nap, she won't get out of my arms. Then it begins. She hits me, herself, the carpet and most disastrously-wankie. The streak ended, over and over and over again. Once the drama faded, she and I changed quickly and I spray carpet cleaner on the floor. Then I have to do the dreaded deed. Throw wankie in the wash. Maggie is sick without her blanket. Not good. Really not good. And let's just say we had a long, long, long afternoon.

So, now I know, La Nina was actually sick, not just whiny and I cursed myself last week. With the weather forecast calling for 1-3 inches of rain in the next 36 hours, I just know someone, somewhere is laughing at my plight.

The Reason the West is Full of Weather Weanies

Well, if you like me read a lot of blogs written by Californians, you know we're all whining about the weather. Some of us are even ordering plans and starting work on our arcs. Yep, we've had 40 days and 40 nights of rain (or something approaching that) and we're sick of the rain. When the weather leads the news, you know it's going to be a bad weekend.

I know, I know. "Wimps," you Easterners think. You think West Coasters are weather weanies. We don't deal with snow, we don't deal with tornadoes or hurricanes and a little rain comes our way and all you hear is a large collective "WAAAAAAA" coming from the left side of the continent.

Here's the truth many of you Easterners may not know: We pay a lot of friggin' taxes for our good weather. ALOT. Our house prices are ridiculous and our property taxes are based on the purchase price of our homes. Therefore we pay the most ridiculous property taxes in the country, if not the world. In my mind, if I pay those taxes, it guarantees me a mild winter, a lovely spring, a hot and dry summer and a spectacular fall. I'm getting completely ripped off this year! I'm outraged. Do you think the Governator is going to give me a bad weather refund? Doubtful. Do you think the Governator is going to come to my house and entertain the girls...INDOORS? Doubtful. Do you think I can deduct extra days of rain from next year's taxes? Doubtful. This whole situation means we are paying for something the State is not delivering and it's b.s.

So, please, think good thoughts for improving weather. March was the wettest in the history of man in the State of California, and I think April will break the rain record by Monday. We pay good money for our sunshine and we want it back.

My Little Problem

I've decided to come out of the closet with something: I'm suffering from an addiction. I'm addicted to books. Oh, sure, it doesn't sound like such a bad thing. I mean, really, wouldn't you love for your children to be addicted to books? My addiction started in childhood. I would laze away the summer reading trashy novels while my Mom worked and rushing through my chores in the last few seconds before she walked in the door.

In 25 years, nothing has changed. When I learned I won a writing award that included cash, did I get a massage, a manicure/pedicure, a new outfit or even a shot of botox? Nope. I went straight to the book store and blew my wad on books.

Of course, my desire to consume and the time I have for imbibing are completely out of alignment these days. Two kids, two dogs, writing and the laundry keep me from pursuing my pleasure to its fullest extent, but I do often find myself with my nose in a book and the house and kids running amok. You know it's bad when I can barely set down a good read to apply heat to a frozen dinner and rip open a bag o' salad. Or worse, when I stay up until all hours of the night finishing something 'I just couldn't put down' then rushing the kids off to nap time the next day so I can crash right along with them.

I'm long on desire short on time and the 'to be read' pile is out of control. On my night stand there are 8 books: 6 I own, 2 from the library (lest you think I don't make avail of free services too). The topics include Chinese history, Essays by Emerson, Fiction by Waldman, a work on adoption, an anthology of short stories, a book by Terry McMillan, a book on writing and my book club book which I have no intention of reading, but its there so I feel part of the club. Behind this pile, there are 3 more stacks containing 10 or so titles each that line my dresser.

A book case you suggest to solve my clutter problem? I already have one and its bursting with books I have read that I just can't bear to part with. I regularly sell back my used books, but I always end up taking the store credit instead of cash. I mean why would I want money when I could have the latest Amy Tan novel as well as 5 more books I've been meaning to read and now I owe you how much Mr. Used Book seller? I'm as helpless as crack addict in West Oakland.

So, while I'm working the first step in my Literature Anonymous 12-step program, please think good thoughts for me. And if you know of a good title, do share!