Sandra Tayler

Why is it that the kids always run through the house like howler monkeys just when I’m tired and cross? Usually this event occurs right at homework time or bedtime. The activities include couch acrobatics, pillow fights, poking with pencils, stealing of blankies, giggling, shrieking, running, thumping, thrown water, and door slamming. It always always always ends up with someone crying. Tonight Link ended up in tears because Gleek sprayed him in the face with cleaning solution. On purpose. Fortunately the solution in question is no more dangerous than shampoo, but about as painful.

The only way to stop possession by howler monkeys is to sequester the children into separate rooms. Unfortunately each child has to be corralled and sequestered individually rather than en masse. So while I’m changing howler-possessed Patches into pajamas and plunking him into bed, howler possessed Kiki, Link, and Gleek run amok. Hence the spraying with cleaning solution.

Fortunately for my nerves tonight, the Cleaning Solution Incident seemed to banish the howler monkeys. Snack and bed were able to follow in relative peace.

When I am on the ball I can usually prevent Howler Monkey Possession. I have to be one step ahead of the kids all evening to manage it. I have to have dinner ready before they realize they are hungry. I have to have homework ready to go before they are done with dinner. I have to have an activity ready for Gleek so that she doesn’t go howler while I’m putting Patches to bed. I have to separate Kiki’s homework space from Link’s so that they don’t go howler while I’m putting little kids to bed. If I fumble any of these steps, one child will prod another and I’ll have a cascading possesion on my hands. This of course answers my question. They go howler when I’m tired and cross because my tiredness prevented me from staying one step ahead.

We’ve had lots of howler evenings lately. My brain has been so tied up preparing to mail books and figuring out courses of action based on numbers of books sold, that I haven’t been paying much attention to the kids. They like this because they get to play during times I should be making them work. Unfortunately the work piles up rather than going away. Then we all end up cranky, in a messy house, with hours of homework to do, and dinner not ready yet.

Sometimes the kids get wired this way on evenings when the house is clean and I don’t feel stressed. I kind of enjoy the howlers on those evenings. I remember nighttime romps with my brothers and sisters. We’d all be in our pajamas and my older siblings would actually play with the littler ones, something they frequently distained to do during the day. Those romps lie golden in my memory. I’m glad that my kids are building a similar pattern of memories. But I’d be gladder if there was more clean house romping and less Invasion of the Howler Monkeys.

Yesterday Howard was named “The coolest family dude in webcomics” by Peter Hayward of Weekly Webcomic Reviews http://www.thechainsawblokes.com/wwr/?p=38 This was information I already knew. I’m getting pretty used to Howard recieving accolades of one kind or another. I happen to know that he deserves them because I know how hard he works and how hard he is on himself because he never feels like he is working hard enough. In this case the accolades are a little different because Hayward doesn’t read Schlock Mercenary at all. He reads Howard’s livejournal and enjoys it, but apparently he reads this journal even more avidly. He had some very nice things to say about my writing. In fact Howard has to share his award with me. This isn’t a problem since we share most things anyway. (Except for his computer, car, and ipod those belong to him.)

I read this review late last night when I was too tired to put coherent words together. Then this morning was slurped into the black hole known as “preschool field trip.” Once I arrived back home and shuffled the children off to play, I sat down and scanned through my recent entries trying to figure out what exactly it was about my writing that Hayward likes enough that he’s trying to send masses of people to read my entries about potty training or dance lessons. I had to fight back an impulse to try to write something particularly entertaining to validate Hayward’s theory that my journal is worth reading. It was a pretty easy fight to win, because the truth is that this journal is primarily for me, not because I want to gain an audience. I know lots of ways that I could drive more traffic to my journal, but I don’t really want the word “traffic” associated with it. Drive by traffic sometimes throws rocks. Everyone who is here wended their way here through a personal connection of some kind. It is a filtering process of sorts and the people who are interested in the kinds of things I have to say will stick around to read and comment.

I love having people read my entries and respond. I love when a response gives me new thoughts on the subject du jour. I love having people comment on my writing or tell me stories about their own lives. I love the way this journal allows me to connect to people with whom I never would have expected to connect. I began this journal as a way to write entertaining/interesting entries so that years from now I could cruise through my journal archives and remember what life was like today. It still serves that purpose, but it provides much more than that. The unexpected gift of this journal has been a personal renaissance. Because of this journal I began writing regularly. Because of the online friendships that have developed, I’ve grown into a stronger and more confident person. I gain far more from this journal and the people who respond to it, than I put into it.

So a big “Thank You” goes to Mr. Hayward for his kind words. I’ll add “Welcome” to anyone new who has wandered here and decided to stick around for awhile.

I spoke with my sister-in-law today and she agreed to watch my kids for 4 days. This means I’ll get to attend Conduit with Howard. I’m really looking forward to it, although coming home at night to an empty house will be a little strange. Being able to attend Conduit is pretty critical this year because for the first time, we’ll have books to sell. I’m also looking forward to being able to attend panels and visit with adults and spend time with Howard. At the end of the weekend I expect to be exhausted and hopefully ready to go back to mommying again.

For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction.

The past two days have been high energy, cheerful days. I’ve figured out how I am going to manage a huge address list, and mail what will hopefully be thousands of packages. For those two days I was extremely task oriented and focused.

So today was probably inevitable. Today I want to curl up with some entertaining tv program and eat yummy food that I didn’t have to cook. Unfortunately what I wanted wasn’t in the cards. Instead I’m left to muddle through today’s responsiblities the best I can.

I don’t require gifts of flowers to reassure me that I am loved. I don’t expect them on my birthday, or anniversary, or mother’s day. And when they don’t arrive I do not feel slighted or sad or upset.

But there are rare occasions when I am gifted with flowers and I cannot deny the effect they have upon my mood. Recieving flowers makes me feel happy and cherished and honored particularly when the gift is unexpected. Howard brought me a single rose tonight. They were handed out en masse at the place he was, but he brought it home to me. And now I have a rose despite freezing temperatures outside.

The scent lingers on my hands and makes me happy.

I’ve been in denial for a long time, but the time has come for me to actively tackle potty training Patches. I’ve been mentally planning to wait until June when I wouldn’t have to babysit NotMyBaby anymore. But due to fortuitious circumstances NMB is going elsewhere for childcare and I have my hands and brain more available to ponder potty training processes.

I’m not going to be pulling out the underpants just yet. For the next week (or month) I’ll be encouraging Patches to sit on the potty about 15 minutes after every meal. Eventually the gastrointestinal reflex will work in my favor and I’ll get to reward Patches hugely for filling the potty.

Patches won’t get to wear underpants until I’m no longer changing stinky diapers.

I don’t like dreaming about my children being dead, but sometimes I do. I don’t dream of traumatic deaths, mostly I dream that a certain child is just gone. They are dreams about grief and about the huge hole the absense of that particular child would leave in my life. Last night I dreamed such a dream about Gleek. I dreamed that she never got to take her dance classes. Fortunately I awoke from the dream to discover that Gleek had snuck into bed with me. I was able to snuggle her for awhile before putting her back in her own bed so I could sleep the rest of the night.

This morning when Gleek woke up I took a few extra minutes to snuggle her on the couch. Gleek is only really snuggly when she’s sleepy, I need to savor the times when she is, because she’ll soon be too big to bundle up in my lap. When that happens I will grieve a little for the 5 year old Gleek that is no more, but only a little, because I’ll have a whole new Gleek to love. The thought of not having my 5 year old Gleek and the future being empty of other iterations of Gleek, makes me want to cry. And snuggle her lots more.

I don’t like these dreams, but I think it is good I have them sometimes. The dreams make me take a look at what I have and appreciate it lots more.