I though of all this today as I steeled my soul and told Kiki harshly that she has plenty of time to get her work done, but not if she spends any of it sitting on the floor crying. She glared at me, but it was the angry glare of knowing that I am right. She got back to work and is now nearly done with the art piece that has bedeviled her for nearly a week. After she stopped being quite so mad, she and I talked about the point of boot camp and how it forces people to grow or to break.

“But mom,” she said with tears in her eyes. “How do I know I’m not broken? I feel broken.”

“I can tell you’re not broken because you’ve got that pen in your hand and you’re drawing.”

She seemed to find comfort in that. Or at least to accept it. Her schedule really is manageable this year. She will have time for fun things as well as work things. The thing she will not have is large swathes of time during which nothing is expected of her. She will need to adapt. I know she can. She has already begun.

I will have to adapt too. Sympathy comes more naturally to me than harsh demands, but right now what Kiki needs is for me to push her to get the work done until doing work is a habit. So I am in drill sergeant training. I am learning how to push and when to randomly provide a reprieve because I can tell that she really is on the edge of breaking. In the process we are both becoming stronger than we were.

Kiki melted down again. So far we’ve had two Thursdays and two meltdowns. She felt overwhelmed and under pressure. The good news is that despite the way she felt about all of it, she kept working and got 90% of it done. Friday was the aftermath, but fortunately she got to go to RPG night and came home happy again.

Today Kiki and I have spent time focused on her homework. We’re using this three day weekend to work ahead. Hopefully this will prevent next week’s meltdown. Even better, Kiki is able to see how today has been a cheerful mix of both work and things that she enjoys doing. Kiki can totally handle her schoolwork just as soon as she starts believing that she can.

The other kids also seem to be settling in fairly well. The schedule has settled and tasks have fallen into their proper nooks and crannies. The kitchen is cleaner more often because I have a small space in my day when doing kitchen work makes sense. Howard will be home soon and then we will have another period of adjustment while we try to fit Howard’s routine into the other routines. But first he has to recover from jet lag.

I overheard a librarian telling a patron “Her books only come out every four years, because she is such a good writer.” This statement fascinated me. I don’t that speed of writing is necessarily a solid measure for good writing. However what I think the librarian meant was that the author in question is so good that she does not mind waiting four years for the next book. That is a very encouraging attitude to hear from a reader. This same librarian also expressed hope that J.K. Rowling not be a one trick pony and offer opinions on the Hunger Games trilogy. Perhaps on another trip I’ll go make her acquaintance, (she seemed nice and was very good about guiding patrons to books that she thought they would enjoy), but for today eavesdropping was fun. It also underscored for me how much influence a librarian can have.

The task that drove me to the library today was picking up books for Kiki. She needs to read 500 pages which have to do with US History. Since Kiki’s reading tastes lean to the otherworldly and magical, this will be a departure for her. So now we have a stack of things she can choose from. I must confess the humanities major in me is eyeing those books. Part of my brain wants to launch into reading all of them and thinking new thoughts. Perhaps with the new schedule I’ll have some time for it. I did have time for a leisurely trek through the library today.

I’m glad that our library does not have a limit on the number of books I can bring home. 14 books for Patch, 8 books for Gleek, 6 books for Kiki, 3 books for Link, 2 books for me. It adds up. And yet it is entirely possible that we’ll go through all of those books in the next three weeks. I love that my kids like to read.

My heart sank. “Hi. How can I help you.”

“Oh don’t worry this is a good call.”

I swallowed. “Really?”

“Yes. I just wanted to tell you that Gleek and I made an agreement that she would get some writing done by Thursday and she finished it today. I also wanted to let you know that she’s been doing great in class. We’ve had no real problems. Well, when I had to take something away from her she got mad, but she calmed herself down and we were fine.”

“Oh. Oh, that’s really good to hear.” My eyes watered. This teacher was not on the clean up crew after last year’s teacher confiscated a toy from Gleek, Gleek began screaming, and was sent to the LRR (time out room). I listen as this year’s teacher continues to talk and realize that she has never seen any of the behaviors that had me approaching this year like a person expecting to survive in the wilderness with only the resources she can carry. And yet Teacher called me just to tell me that things are going well because she knows I’m worried.

When Teacher was done singing Gleek’s praises, I hung up the phone. It could be Teacher, it could be the dietary changes, it could be a more relaxed social situation in class, it could be regular meals and bedtimes, it could be that Gleek just turned a developmental corner, whatever the reason, I need to keep doing all of my pieces of the above because I’m seeing the same calmer happier Gleek at home too.

I feel like dancing for joy.

The revision notes for my essay arrived in my mailbox during the middle of a week filled with child meltdowns. Remembering that a fellow writer’s group member always makes sure to thank us for complaining about his work, I fired off an immediate Thank You. Then I put the notes aside until I could make space for them. Well, almost. I glanced through first. And discovered that I am far from immune to criticism. I was afflicted by odd flashes of irritation. I was not able to identify why until I had space in my schedule and forced myself to give a more thorough reading to the notes.

I was irritated because I was tired and the notes pointed out very clearly places where I could work much harder to improve the writing. I was also momentarily irritated when the same issue was pointed out in multiple places. “I get it already!” the back of my brain insisted while the front of my brain knew that pointing out all the examples is part of an editor’s job. Also there is no way for an editor alone with a page of text to know which points will be rapidly clear to an author and which will need multi-iteration to sink in. That kind of rapport can be built over time, but this is the first set of notes. Harder to resolve emotionally for me were the few places where editorial suggestions ran counter to what I felt was right for the piece. This originally manifested as irritation, but once I saw the disconnect, I instantly shifted into problem solving.

The larger emotional curve I had to weather in relation to the editorial notes was not about the notes at all. The subject matter of this essay is very close to my heart. In order to properly revise, I have to dig out all that old emotion and pin it to the page again. I worried that the zeitgeist which led me to write the piece would be gone. I worried that I could not make it any better than I already had. I knew that the revision process would wear me out.

Once that whole mess of emotions was acknowledged, a last emotion emerged and filled me up. Gratitude. Multiple editors have looked at my essay. They know it is flawed and they want it anyway. They not only want my essay, but they are giving me the gift of their time and energy to tell me how I can make the essay even better. I can not express how honored I feel that they care for my words.

Once I cleared all of that out of my head. The actual revision went very well. I’m going to let it settle for a couple of days, look it over again, and then it will be back to the editor for publication or more notes. Even if there are more notes, I don’t think I’ll have to deal with the emotions again. Which is good.

I cleaned my front room yesterday. I think this is the first time it has been orderly since school let out. It was so nice that I cleaned up the kitchen as well. Both still need detail work, but the central spaces are open, ready for whatever comes next. I want that in the rest of the house. I want that in my mind and heart. Both are full of things not put away, things broken, things new, things old, things which are no longer useful, things for which I must make places. I want time to sort through the mess, not quickly but thoroughly. I want to organize closets. I want to haul out bags of garbage. And suddenly I realize that I am ready for a project. Cleaning is my project. But I am not going to attack it with energy, just do a little each day until I meander my way to a good place.

I still have to revise tomorrow. There is a deadline. Pulling out the writing thoughts will change my internal emotional landscape. But I think it is a necessary part of the clean up. I was going to have to organize that closet anyway.

Just now we are having a quiet afternoon space. Gleek has gone to a new friend’s house and for the very first time I sent the Kidphone with her. She’s having a great time calling me to give me updates. “Just letting you know that I’m still playing with A and everything is great!” There is an hour of homework time where I will be on call, but other than that we’ll have quiet afternoon followed by me making dinner and running a family activity in the evening.

I need more days like today. No crises. No urgent tasks. Just things to get done.

I’ve been listened to respectfully by school personnel. I’ve been able to express my concerns. The team building has begun and I think I’ll have good teams. Now I just need to put kids to bed and sleep for many hours. Then I have to get up in the morning, wash Howard’s clothes, pack Howard’s clothes, arrange for a church activity, and take him to the airport. Kiki has homework which I need to monitor and I have to track Gleek’s food.

Sunday will be a respite. Monday I will help finalize Kiki’s class change, do my regular business things, and then I need to find my Writer hat. It is buried around here somewhere and I’m going to need it in order to make good use of the editorial notes I have for an essay that will be published next year.

But first, sleep.

The second case for advocacy is going to be much longer and more complicated. For the first time I have identified an administrator who is an obstacle to my children having a good school experience. I believe he means well, but this does not change the fact that I am having to do significant emotional clean-up work with my kids. The good news is that the teachers are great. It is possible that strong alliances with the teachers will nullify any problems with the larger school administration. But that is not the way it should be. For now I am watching closely and keeping records.

ETA: This was a tired day. That colors my impressions, which is why all actions are waiting on further evidence.