Next up, December.
See, it's good for me; the writing this is finally starting to happen again after a five year dry spell (there were lot of reasons there, and we don't talk about them in polite company anymore to protect the innocent, okay, so just trust me that it was HELL and BAD and all things TERRIBLE), and I'm fascinated by the words I'm churning out on a daily basis. I wrote 33K words last month, which is more than I've written in the last THREE YEARS put together. I was talking to my friend J today about the story I'm working on, and how all the modern vampire stories have missed the point, because they are equating being consumed with being loved, and it's not the same, and maybe that's part of what this story is about, and I just love it, darlings, I LOVE it.
I've been knitting, too, almost done the Cardigan for Merry, which was annypurls adaptation of the Cardigan for Arwen from IK a few years back for her little boy; Lucy's version is pink (I know, I think I'm coming down with something), but as I've said a zillion times before, I have time to knit and write or take pictures of my knitting and blog about them, so the first is winning, especially since I've got an almost-12 month old to chase around all the darn time. She's cruising like crazy, and resisting all efforts by the grandparents to "teach" her to walk; try to stand her up, and she will sit down on her butt, hide her hands, and give you the most petulant look; she'll do it in her own time, thank you very much.
I swear, her first sentence will be "Mama, I do it."
Have I mentioned lately that I'm totally in love with this baby girl?
Someone asked me the other day how I felt about motherhood. When I got done laughing, I asked him if he wanted the truth, or the PC version. He asked for the truth. So here it goes.
I hate it. I hate not getting enough sleep, having no time to myself. I hate planning for three people when I just want a cup of coffee. I hate having to get up earlier so I can get me AND someone else ready before I go for work. I hate not being able to eat brownies for dinner because someone else needs a nutritious dinner. I hate being relied on, depended on, and knowing that my saying the word "no," can break someone's world, not because she wants to do whatever it is so badly, but because she is stressed that I look upset with her. I hate that because I let myself be convinced to "sneak out" yesterday, rather than saying good-bye when I knew it would upset her, and then got punished all night long because she was so afraid that I would disappear again.
I hate it, and yet I wouldn't trade it for anything; not all the knitting time in the universe, or all the sea silk in the Handmaiden Vaults.
Just now, I could hear her whimpering a bit in her room; I didn't even have to get all the way into the room before she started to settle down. As soon as she heard my voice, I saw her shoulders relax, heard the tension ease out of her tiny voice.
Being a mom; it's a pain in the ass, but it's as good as it fucking gets. Pardon the profanity, but -- it's just the way it is. :)
01 December 2008
Next up, December.