Pencils Down. Time's Up.

November's over. I didn't reach my goal--not even by half. That's okay, this is a marathon, not a sprint. I made some good progress, and I'm happy with where the story is going. So, yay! That's done.

Brighton got his glasses (I know I promised pictures, but you'll just have to take my word for it when I say they look great.) and noticed the difference right away. He looked at me and said, "Mom, you look different. You have lines on your face, and little red dots, too." Yep. That's nice. Thanks for noticing.

After going three consecutive weeks without a full night of sleep (The time change always really messes up Keelie's sleep schedule. She woke up every morning at 3:00, climbed out of bed and began tormenting her siblings.), I caught the Mother Of All Colds. Now I have a chapped, red nose and watery, blood-shot eyes to go along with my lines and red dots. The good news is that after purchasing our fourth (and hopefully final) crib tent, Keelie is once again sleeping through the night. And now that I can get some rest, hopefully Brighton will begin noticing how truly lovely (and young looking) his mother really is.

Okay, now I'm going to confess this once, and only once, and then I don't want to hear about it anymore. During the past month I wasted my time (time I should have spent writing) watching this: , and reading this:. Ummm . . . Uhhh . . . I'm at a loss for words right now. I can't seem to find the right way express my disappointment. But, then again, what was I expecting?

How about you? What have you been up to?

Shhhh. I'm Thinking . . .

If things are quiet around here it's not because I don't love you. I'm challenging myself with this. The goal? To get my current Work In Progress up to 50,000 words before the end of the month. This is a big deal for me. There are just too many distraction in my daily life. Add to that the fact that I'm a really slow writer. I write. And think. And write. And think. When what I need is to awaken the storm of creativity that is building in my mind, unleash the torrent of words, flood the page with the story. Think less. Write more.

Think less? Hmmm. We'll see how this goes.

Smile and say E!

I had the pleasure of taking the boys to the doctor last week to check on their growth (both good) and development (also both good). Height and weight both on the charts. Vaccinations all up to date.

In fact there were no problems; every test came out okay. Oh, except for one little test called the vision screening.

When Brighton stepped up to the line to read the eye chart the only line he could read was the first one. The big letter E.

After verifying that up close he did indeed know and could read the other letters on the chart, the doctor informed me that, according to their vision screening, Brighton's vision is 20/200 in both eyes.

That means that what most people can see at a distance of 200 feet, Brighton can only see at a distance of 20 feet.

In fact, two nights later, while trick-or-treating around the neighborhood, I spied one of our kooky neighbors with a horse in his house. Yes, a horse in his house. Okay, it was a Shetland pony, but an equine just the same.

When I pointed across the street and said, "Look Brighton. That guy has a horse in his house." Brighton chuckled and replied, "Mom, I can't see it."

That was the first and only time he has ever complained about his vision.

I had no idea.

He didn't either, stating simply that he thought everyone saw everything the same way he did: blurry.

Later he tried on his dad's glasses and marveled at his surroundings as everything came into focus, exclaiming, "I can see. It's all so clear."

So, off to the ophthalmologist we go to get Brighton hooked up with some stylin' spectacles. (No, the glasses in the photo are not Brigton's real glasses. I'll post the real photo's later.)

An Open Letter to My Computer

Dear Mac (I can't believe after a year I still haven't given you a real name.),

You may have noticed a little distance in our relationship lately. It's not you; It's me. We've been together for one year now. We've seen some really good times. You've helped me reach goals and learn so many new things. We've laughed. We've cried. We've been inseparable. And I feel that I can honestly say that you are one of my best friends (Sad, isn't it?).

But lately, something's changed; things have been different. Maybe it's all the pressure I'm under to produce good fiction in my writing class. Or maybe it's those nasty critiques I both given and received. I just feel like I need some space to, you know, breathe. I just need a some time to work through some things, get organized.

It's not healthy for our relationship to grow this codependent. Maybe we just love each other too much. I feel that a little time apart will do us some good. It's not like I'm breaking up with you. We'll just be taking a break for a while.

And we'll still see each other around. We still have our weekly writing classes, and I'd still like to blog from time to time. Oh, and don't forget email and Facebook; we'll definitely have to keep up on that. We just won't have to do it every day.

So, smile. Keep your chin up and know that I still love you. And I'm sure in the end, when I'm feeling a bit more myself, we'll get right back together.

Love,

Fiauna

Missing Teeth and Milestones

It's a rare day when I struggle to find the words to express my feelings, but that's exactly where I'm at.

Last week Keelie lost her first tooth. Now, I understand that since she got her first tooth early, at three months of age, it stands to reason that she would lose her first tooth early as well, as in age four years old. But I was still taken by surprise when that little tooth began to wiggle its way out, preparing the way for the adult tooth behind it. Yes, you read that right. Adult tooth.

When my other children lost their first teeth it was an exciting time marked by a visit from the tooth fairy. The tooth fairy did not visit Keelie because . . . Well, I'll just go ahead and say it: She just doesn't get it--yet.

I understand that no matter who you are, or what your children are like, these kinds of milestones are always bitter-sweet. Milestones like losing teeth mark the steady march our children make along the path to adulthood, each step taking them further from infancy, through childhood, up the steep hill of adolescence, and finally out into the real world. But, while physically Keelie's body is making the journey forward, her mind is not. And milestones like these always bring that reality back to me. Her developmental milestones will likely never match her physical growth.

Don't get me wrong, she's made some big strides in her short life, meeting developmental milestones I struggled to believe she'd ever reach. In fact, she's talking so much now I'm going to have to delete the list of her growing vocabulary from the sidebar of the blog--it's just too big now. I'm thrilled by this because there was a time when I wondered if I'd ever get to hear the sound of her voice, let alone have a real conversation with her.

But I have to say that it's extremely difficult, and even painful, for me to imagine her some years in the future when her body has completed the journey from infancy to adulthood, her hair no longer falling in baby ringlets, her cheeks no longer rosy and full, but her mind is suspended somewhere along the path. Really, it breaks my heart.

I console myself with the kisses she so freely offers, the little songs she sings at the dinner table or around the house, and the oh-so-cute toothless smile she openly shares with me and the rest of the world.

You Tell Me . . .

Should I buy the fake, Halloween cobwebs that my kids want me to buy, or do I use the REAL cobwebs already strung up around my house?

In other words, do I buy Halloween decorations for my home this year, or do I simply let my scary lack of housekeeping skills do the decorating for me?

What do you think?

Zone Defense

At one point or another, during our college years, my husband and I both worked at Wal-Mart. Many relationships were formed and lessons learned while walking the overstocked aisles of the superstore, under the glare of the fluorescent lights.

Every night, near closing time, a voice would come over the loudspeaker calling out to the employees, "Attention Wal-Mart associates. It is now time to begin zone defense." At this time, the employees would wander their designated areas, checking the shelves and displays, making sure all was where it should be and in proper form.

Sometimes this was a bigger task than other times. During the shopping hours the costumers could wreak havoc on the store, picking up, moving, and misplacing items throughout the store. It all had to be put back in the proper place, and arranged for good presentation. No matter how late it was, or how tired they were, the employees couldn't leave until the work was done.

It is no different in life. The world has a way of creeping in and moving things around, picking up our priorities and misplacing them. We each must call for a zone defense--often. We have to ask ourselves if the way we are living is in line with what we believe. Are our goals reflective of who we truly are and what we want to become? Sometimes what we think we want can keep us from being truly happy.

I've begun to take some time to do some zone defense in my own life. What I've found is that I have been allowing the world to misplace a few of my priorities, distracting me from the work I'm really here to do. As I am beginning to put my priorities back in the right place, I'm finding greater peace and clarity in my life. And I'm finding out that my life doesn't have to be complicated; I'm running this show and can therefore choose most of what I allow into my world.

It's humbling work, this zone defense, and I hope I can get everything in the proper place before the doors on this life are locked and the lights turned out. How about you? Have you done some zone defense lately?