Category: Kids

No one eats until the frog eats

Frog on bough
Image via Wikipedia

So yesterday, Andrew and I went to see To Kill a Mockingbird at the Park Square Theatre with my mom. It was excellent. We enjoyed it very much, and Andrew and I had a good talk about the themes in the play on the way home. Plus! Bought new shoes.

The second we walk into the house, Kyra calls out, “Mommy! Andrew! Come look! We have a frog!”

(Why am I continuously surprised that things find their way into our house when Bob and Kyra are unsupervised? I shouldn’t be. And yet, I am.)

They went to the pet store and added some new tetras to the tank. Well, the tank needed some new tetras (all our other ones have slowly died off, and the danios are kind of lonely). But they also bought a frog, which can live in there as well.

However, since it eats bloodworms, we have to take it out of the tank to feed it. Fortunately, we only need to do this once a week. So, now, my Outlook has the recurring task of “Feed the frog” for every Friday.

The frog is named Matilda.

I think the new rule for Friday will have to be: No one eats until the frog eats.

What I did this weekend

Cover of "Deep Down Popular"
Cover of Deep Down Popular

What I did, the weekend edition:

  1. Took two karate classes
  2. Baked banana bread
  3. Did the laundry
  4. Finished reading a novel (Deep Down Popular by Phoebe Stone)
  5. Finished writing a novel

Yes, the first draft of what I’m calling Speechless (even though I wrote a short story with the same title–actually, the short story inspired the novel) is done.

This is less impressive when you learn that the word count is only 32,000. I did that on purpose. This is an upper middle grade/tween novel and that length gives me plenty of room for revisions. I can comfortably add 10,000 words and not freak the freak out about word count.

And of course, during all this, the kids were messing around with Andrew’s video camera on the back deck. They set it up on a tripod so it was pointed right at me (we have a series of glass doors/windows that face the backyard). Then they would knock on the door and run away (but, thanks to all that glass, I could see them–so yeah, not very subtle). Once, I stepped out on the deck and said something to the camera about trying to write.

Later, they holed up in a bedroom to watch their masterpiece with much giggling.

So, if you’re imaging me in some idyllic writer’s paradise … um, yeah, not so much. It’s me, the cooling banana bread, the dog wanting to go outside, and the kids turning me into their own reality show.

Girl Drama

As part of the journal keeping book I’m reading (and class I’m taking along with it), we’re required to try experimental ways of keeping a journal for a week. This could include collecting quotes, writing a poem for each day, and so on.

This was my initial response to that:

One poem per day
Our journal class assignment
My brain may explode

 I wrote the following in response to something that went down in Kyra’s afterschool care program.

Girl Drama

A play no one wanted to hear
About five dogs and two cats, who live on the street.
In winter.

Only one friend came to the audition.
The others wanted to make changes. Six dogs! All different breeds! Does it have to be winter?
I’m reminded of H.G. Wells and his quote about the passion to alter someone else’s draft.

No one will ever know if the five stray dogs and two stray cats ever find a home.
They’ll stay on the street. Forever. In winter.
The playwright had too many tears and couldn’t tell me how it ends.

Oh, the weather outside is frightful

It really is, at least here. It’s all of one miserly degree, plus it’s snowing. Not big, pretty snowflakes, but small, sharp, mean-spirited ones–and the wind is blowing them all around for good measure.

Yeah. It’s a good day to stay inside. In fact, I’m glad it’s a federal holiday. That way, I don’t have to traipse out to the mailbox this afternoon to get the mail–although I do have to venture out in a bit to pick up Kyra from a New Year’s Eve sleepover. I will make my first prediction of 2011. I predict a nap is in someone’s future.

In any case, it’s a good day to curl up in a chair, make plans for 2011, maybe do some reading, or perhaps a little writing. One activity I started last year that I want to carry into this year is volunteer script reading for one of our local theaters, Park Square Theatre.

Essentially, they send me a script, I read it, fill out an evaluation, then mail that (and the script) back to them. Not only is it fun, but from a writer’s perspective, it’s a great exercise for studying character, plot, and structure.

Speaking of which, I’ll be reading this today:

He’s a Canadian playwright, but that really matches our weather today. I don’t know if maybe I should be reading something more tropical on a day like today, but I’m going to brew a big pot of tea and dive in.

Words of encouragement

I hope to post a recap of the MEMO conference in the next few days. Short review: It was fun! I had a blast and sold some books.

Here’s the note Kyra wrote to me before I left:

From: Kyra
To: Mom

Make sure to not tuck in your shirt and don’t forget to look your best. I hope you have a good time there. Love, Kyra and don’t forgot again to love and miss me. I will love and miss you too. Love, Kyra and I will love you back and do not and I mean do not forget about me.

I failed on one account. Sadly, I did tuck in my shirt.

Our next book

At long last, the plot for our next book, as provided by my seven-year-old daughter (AKA the marvelous Miss B). Here’s the premise:

A girl has four (!) boyfriends:

  • Two strong ones (by which I think she means jocks/athletes)
  • Two nerd ones (self-explanatory)

The title for this magnum opus?

Boy Trouble

Yes, I think that (almost) goes without saying.

But seriously, this thing is going to write itself. Write. Itself.

It warms a writing mom’s heart

So Andrew is reading the Vladimir Tod by Heather Brewer (he likes vampires of the non-sparkly variety).

He finished Ninth Grade Slays last night and was paging through Tenth Grade Bleeds this morning before he tucked it into his binder. He looked up at me and said:

“These books are written in third person point of view, but it feels like first.”

Ah, the observations that make a writing mother’s heart flutter.