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My children are not the center of my life. I know this is true because I am able to function even when they are not around. On the whole I believe this is a good thing. Children need to have a mother who does not revolve around them, but who would rather have them than not. Yesterday I delivered my kids to my brother’s house. Then I drove home alone. It is interesting the gyrations my brain goes through as I try to disengage the habit pattern that checks on the location of the kids periodically. For the first hour of the return trip I kept having a nagging feeling that I’d left something behind, then I would remember that I did leave four somethings behind, but that I’d done it on purpose. Here at home the absence of the kids is also very apparent. Sometimes this is cause for rejoicing (no noise!) and sometimes it is a little sad (no morning hugs.) But mostly I just note that I am missing them a little, remember that we’ll all be back together in a week, and then I focus on the task at hand. This is good because there are many tasks at hand today. Many things which must be finished up before we leave at o-dark thirty tomorrow.

It has not all been roses and sunshine. I had an anxiety attack for about an hour where I curled up and felt very afraid of all the many things which could possibly go wrong. It was rather like there was this little guy running around in the back of my brain and screaming. Locking him in the closet didn’t shut him up, so instead I pulled him into the center of my brain and listened to every terrified rant he had. He screamed of plane crashes, and lost luggage, and children lost, and children injured, and books not arriving to shows, and consignment deals reneged upon, and spending piles of money, and not getting any money back. Eventually he ran out of things to scream about and I made plans for managing each of these potential bad things. Then I got back up and went back to work. All it amounts to is pre-trip jitters. Once we swing into full motion, the anxieties will vanish and I’ll be able to relax and enjoy the trip. It is going to be a good trip.

I’d forgotten what a sane schedule felt like. For the past few days I’ve had time to clean the house, not a frenzied, must-get-this-done-fast cleaning, but an effort focused on organization and scrubbing rather than quick presentability. Even more important, I’ve had time to snuggle kids until they were done with snuggling. I’ve had time to stop and listen to them until they were done talking. I’ve had time to assist in their projects on their time tables instead of mine. Best of all, this little space of sanity is like an appetizer. Next week will be busy, but after that I look forward to even more of this slower-paced schedule.

I head to Worldcon on Wednesday. I don’t have much of a schedule once I arrive there. Mostly I’ll be acting as Howard’s handler, making sure he eats at appropriate intervals and gets to all his scheduled events. I’ll attend some panels as an audience member. The only three fixed points (beyond a couple of private meetings) are as follows:

Friday August 7
6:45 – late Schlocker Meet-up at Les Jardins Nelson 407 Place Jacques-Cartier in Old Montreal.  We will be departing the convention center at approximately 6:45 pm and walking over to the restaurant.

Sunday August 9
10:00 – 11:00 am Running a Web-based Business P-512DH This is a solo presentation by Howard, but he’ll probably call me up to answer any questions about areas of the business that I run.
8:00 – 10:00 The Hugo Ceremony. Howard will be in a tux. I’ll be dressed to match. We’ll try to get photos so that we can post them.

We’ll be back Home the following Monday. Howard will turn around and leave again, but I will put away my convention clothes and stretch out into the mom role. It will feel good. It already feels good. I’m looking forward to next week, and I’m looking forward to the week after.

Kiki clattered through the front door sun burned and grinning from ear to ear. She had just arrived home from a three-day adventure in living like the Utah pioneers who crossed the plains pulling hand carts. For the next hour she chattered, re-living the entire adventure out loud for me. It was a mish-mash, out-of-order retelling, as such recountings generally are. I sat and listened because experience has taught me that the best time to hear about someone’s trip is within the first 24 hours after they get home. After that, life moves on and details fade. I expected Kiki to use hard, tiring, miserable, and hot as the primary descriptors. Those words did get used, but not until she’d put the words beautiful, amazing, cool, and interesting to extensive use first. I can tell that this trip was one of those watershed events in her life. She got to see her youth group peers in new ways. She got along peacefully with people she did not expect to. She got to see the goofy teenage boys stand up and take responsibility. The talking wound down and she headed for the shower. In the next few days we’ll have to weather many a complaint about her 19 mosquito bites and her painful sunburn, but given the chance to do something similar again, she would go. Mosquitoes and all.

I wish I’d known the park had a duck pond before we left the house. I would have packed along bread for our lets-go-to-a-new-park adventure. Our lack of bread was only a minor impediment to our kids. They had no qualms about begging bread from the other pond visitors around us. I had qualms, but the bread was always in their hands before I had a chance to speak up. I decided not to make an issue of not begging for bread. Instead I watched them throw bread to ducks. And I felt the warm breeze and the pleasant radiance of the evening sun. I shared in their joy when they realized that some of the bread was being snatched by a school of fish. The sideways rays of the sun betrayed the fish in their murky hiding places, giving them flashes of shining color under the water. There is something fascinating and soothing about feeding ducks, and fish too. It requires one to be still and to observe, for boisterousness will scatter the creatures you’re attempting to entice.

After a time we wandered away from the pond to explore a big grassy field, a set of swings, a fountain, and a playground. Wandering was the point really. So much of our family life has been dictated by business needs and schedules, the kids were due an evening when I wandered according to their whims. I did have to do some maneuvering to get the whims of three children pointed in the same direction, but the schedule was theirs rather than mine. We eventually quested in search of a drinking fountain because Gleek claimed she was near death from thirst. Our park trip had been so impromptu that I didn’t even pack along water bottles. I’d only handed them sandwiches for dinner as we hopped into the car. (The crusts of which were sacrificed to the ducks quite gleefully.) Having quenched her dire thirst, Gleek collapsed on the ground. She sprang up quickly enough when Link and Patch decided to explore under the branches of a tree which drooped all the way to the ground.

I had a moment to myself as they disappeared into the tree. I thought a moment of Kiki who is off on her pioneer trek. I thought of Howard off at his gaming night. Then I closed my eyes and just absorbed the calm of the moment. For that space I had put aside all the tasks of my life just to be. I though how calm and happy I felt and I spent a moment pondering if I should seek more undirected time in my life. I know I need some, but not too much I think. Too much undirected time leads to boredom and dissatisfaction rather than happiness. I need my life to be full of things, but I also need to make spaces for just wandering and feeling happy.

When the kids were ready to leave, we stopped by the grocery store to buy ice cream. And peanut butter cups. and m&m candies. These treats were artfully combined into great bowls of sugar which we consumed while playing Uno. No one won. No one lost. There were some sad moments, just like any competitive game will produce when children are involved. Games are good practice for managing small disappointments. But most of all there was laughter and teasing. They went to bed tired. I had no concrete reason for not attending my Writer Girl’s Group this evening other than “I should be home with the kids.” Now I know why. I needed to be with them, to really give them a whole evening before we part ways for a week. They’ve had far too little time with relaxed parents this summer.

Anthology Builder is sponsoring a scavenger hunt at Worldcon and has asked me to help out.

See the pretty badge? I have a bag full of these to hand out at the convention. All you have to do is come find me and ask to see one of our books. But the badge has value beyond just being pretty. If one of the Anthology Builder secret agents spots you wearing an Anthology Builder badge you will win prizes. The prizes will be either a free book handed to you on the spot, or a gift certificate for a discounted book. My badges are not the only ones available. You should click that image above to see the full list of badges, how to get them, and the further prizes there are to be gained for collecting all the badges. So if you’re going to Worldcon, be sure to join the fun.

I was in a hurry (I’m always in a hurry lately) and the car in front of me was frustratingly slow. I glanced at the silver hair of the driver and knew that this particular car was not going to speed up any time soon. My usual response to this situation is a frustrated sigh and seeking for a way to get out from behind the car as quickly as possible. After all, I’m in a hurry. I don’t have time to drive slow. This old man in front of me is not hurried. He probably was hurried in the past, but now he is past hurried and well into careful. On the whole I think I prefer when elderly drivers are careful. I would prefer if non-elderly drivers were more careful. This was the moment when I realized that I am one of those less-than-careful non-elderly drivers. My impatience to pass the slow driving car creates a hazard and saves me maybe a minute or two. I looked again at the silver head in front of me. There was a fluffy silver head in the passenger seat. I suddenly pictured them as one of those long-happily-married couples. I could picture him opening the door for her and them walking slowly together so that observers can not be sure who is lending balance to whom. Such couples have seen a lot of things in their lives and they have learned the lack of value in most of the rushing. So I eased my foot off the gas and drove more slowly the rest of the way home. I did not arrive noticeably later but I arrived much calmer and happier.

I fought my way through the wilds of accounting. I had weathered the kitchen and the laundry. I had even escaped the island of waiting-for-a-truck (rescued by a very pleasant driver who whisked away my two pallets of books.) I found myself washed up on the couch in my front room. I still had an endless list of things I could do, but all the urgent tasks for the day were done. Some of the remaining tasks were post-urgent. These are the things that are supposed to be done regularly, but never get done at all when life gets busy. I pondered the array of post-urgent tasks as I stared at the spot of dried chocolate shake on the hardwood floor which has been there for at least two months. By default my decision was to just sit and listen as my thoughts unwound and paraded through my consciousness. They paraded right back out again and I promptly forgot them all. This parade of thoughts is a necessary process, like sifting chaff from wheat. I’ve been shoving thoughts into the back of my brain indiscriminately. The important thoughts will come back around for another pass the others will wisp away and my brain will be less cluttered.

I had not been sitting long (maybe ten minutes maybe thirty, it is something of a timeless state, but regardless of actual time, the thought parade had only begun) when Link came into the room and sat down in the rocking chair across from me to read a book. Reading is a quiet activity. I like my kids to read. It seems that Link’s reading should not have disturbed my thought processes, but it did. There was another person in my visual space. It was like a weight dropped into the middle of a rubber sheet which changes the landscape. I was trying to decide whether to attempt evicting Link, or whether to find a different alone space, or whether to give up on the thought parade for a bit. I had not come to any conclusions, when Gleek also wandered into the room with a ball of yarn. She wanted to make a yarn doll and needed a second pair of hands to wrap the yarn around. Once my hands were no longer needed, she sat next to me on the couch carefully crafting a small bundle of yarn upon which she bestowed a name. Then Patch wandered into the room with a small construction he’d made out of lego bricks. He climbed into my lap and proceeded to play a game which required the deconstruction and re-construction of the bricks multiple times in various configurations.

It was rather like gravity. For the first time in weeks mom was sitting still and not doing anything in particular. Like little planetoids these three people spiraled in close and orbited happily while doing their own things. It seems that half of the parenting job these days consists of just being a stable center point around which they can orbit and off of which they can rebound. This will be more true the older they get, until they are ready to fly off and form their own stable systems. The presence of the children obstructed the parade of thoughts, but showed me why it is important for me to make empty spaces in my days and in my life. There need to be times for just sitting, for offering my hands as a doll maker’s form, for being the platform from which adventures are constructed, times for just being there.

The alarm rang and I was out of bed before I even knew why. This was amazing because every other time my alarm rang during the past month I responded by hitting the snooze button. Somehow I internalized that getting up on time was truly important today. I had a freight truck scheduled to come sometime between 8 and 10 am. It was to pick up the two pallets in my garage, but the pallets still had to be strapped and wrapped before they were ready to go. I threw on clothes and set to work. It took longer than I expected. I’d allowed an hour and the job took two. I kept telling myself it would be fine if the truck arrived before I was done. That the truck driver would understand and wait. But each time I heard the rumble of a truck, my heart would jump and I would hurry even faster. I finished the pallets by 9 am and then the waiting began. At 10:30 am I called the freight company. They told me “sometime today.” So I waited some more.

Waiting for a delivery or a repair takes up an inordinate amount of energy. I spend 90% of my time in my house, but somehow I always manage to have a couple urgent out-of-the-house tasks that fall on the same day that I am waiting at home. And then I feel trapped. I fail to begin things because they might be interrupted. So I check email. Then facebook. Then blogs. Then, because I’m still waiting, I check email again. And the hours stretch and I feel silly because of all the things I could have gotten done in the hours that I spent waiting. So I try to shake off the waiting and settle down to work. But some part of my brain is still listening for the sound of a truck and I keep finding excuses to wander into the front room where I can look out the window. Waiting is distracting.

Around 2:30 pm I got a call from the freight company. It seems that the corporate center forgot to tell the local center that a lift gate truck would be necessary until after all the lift gate trucks were spoken for. The guy on the phone apologized and promised that the truck would come tomorrow. But he couldn’t tell me when exactly. So tomorrow I get to wait again. I’m hoping that I can dive into some tasks and forget that I am waiting. At least now the pallets are completely ready to go. Fortunately the delay in pick-up will not affect the delivery much. Now the pallets will only be 7 days early instead of 8. I just want to hand them off so that my responsibility to them is done. Also it would be nice to have our garage be a garage again instead of a miniature warehouse.

Patch crawls into bed with us in the middle of the night. He does not do it every night, but it is more of a surprise when he doesn’t than when he does. The result is that I end up sandwiched between Howard and Patch’s not-so-little-anymore body. Some days it does not make a difference in how well I sleep, but other times I roll awkwardly in that middle space trying to get comfortable without hitting anyone else.

In some ways my whole summer has been like that. I spend most of my time inside my house which has been full of people for most of the summer. Sometimes I don’t mind but other times I feel a little stir-crazy and want nothing so much as a little space. I want a time and space where I can choose what to do without worrying that I will inconvenience someone else. This is a familiar refrain. I usually sing it toward the end of the summer. This year I already know the answer. Howard and I are handing off the kids a full day before we leave for Worldcon. My house will be empty for that day. And then I’ll have five days of vacation from all my regular things. And when I get back, we’ll work on getting Patch to sleep in his own bed all night.

The XDM books are mailed and I think I’m on the upswing from the post-shipping fatigue. In order to prepare and run a shipping event I have to be high energy and focused. Once it is done, I am neither for awhile. By a nice set of coincidences I had the house completely to myself for a couple of hours yesterday. It was lovely. I took a nap. Today also had a nap. Fortunately I was able to pull together enough energy to get some work done. More work remains. I’ve only got a week and a half before we head out for Worldcon.