Merry Christmas

… from us here to all.

Christmas come early

*dances madly around the room*

Ooooooh, the title of Book 7 is out! I don’t know what to make of the title itself, but I do know one thing – the book will be released next year!

*resumes dancing madly around the room*

Wintertime

= cold = dry = static after a trip down the slide

This Christmas

Oh-ho. Just when I said I wouldn’t be posting often, here I am again.

This time, though, I am feeling a little melancholic. Christmas was supposed to be a festive time this year, since we are home (as in a real home, and not some make-shift serviced apartment where we have no tree, no music and no friends) and Sara is almost three and able to appreciate how exciting this season is. But then, I read this and this. Christmas is a time for miracles, but God doesn’t always plan it that way.

My prayers are with little Zoe and her family – I’ve been a long time reader of Jean’s and although I don’t always agree with her and can’t appreciate her joy of stitching, I do enjoy the window into her life she’s offered everyone through her blog. She’s been brutally honest about Zoe’s condition and in thinking about it, I would never have shared what she’s sharing with her readers. It would be too painful to do so. So this Christmas, we will make a special prayer offering for her little girl and the family.

The second bit of news that got me melancholic came by way of Chris, whose blog I’ve been following for a while now too. We get stories of tragady all too often, but this one was particularly tragic. A man dies attempting to cross through virtually impassable terrain to bring help to his stranded family. What is worse, his children are so young and from what the rescuers said, he had made it amazingly far into the rugged wilderness in the desparate attempt to save his family. It’s so sad because his family was rescued shortly after he left them and he had worked so hard to save them, to no avail. James Kim died giving everything he had for his family.

As sad as this all is, it does remind me what Christmas is about. It’s about giving - giving your all – to those you love, be it family, friends or even that beggar in the street (if you can be that saintly). Tragedy is a fact of life and no one is exempt from it. How we choose to face it and regardless to outcome, it is in the giving and loving that we receive our reward. 

Mother of all posts

Here to address several things going on right now.

Do you blog anymore? Goodness, it certainly feels like I don’t, doesn’t it? Where have I been? Have I really been that busy? Or just lazy? Or just that my blogging mojo’s been stolen? I think it’s all of the above. I’m finding blogging less attractive these days, although I admittedly still love standing on my soapbox in cyberspace when I feel moved to do so. Therein lies the problem though – only when I feel moved to do so. I’m not feeling so committed to updating, and it’s not like there’s nothing to blog about, but more like there are better things to do with my precious hours in the evening. But ’nuff said. I will still blog, not as frequently (and hence lose readers, I’m sure), but I will blog.

And so what ever happened to that NaNoWriMo thing? Good question. I wish I never wrote that post. Then I wouldn’t have to give an answer. But the truth – I must tell the truth.

The truth is, I couldn’t write. I started so many times, but I lack discipline. I kept changing my ideas around, drafting and re-drafting storylines, starting and re-starting stories. And I threw everything away. I discovered I have a nasty little problem when it comes to writing. When I write something that I decide (mid-writing) is terrible, I delete it. Immediately. I’ve been throwing away loads of stuff at the blink of an eye. When I hate what I write, I want to see it gone. Pronto. And it’s so easy to do it on the computer. [Alt+A] [Del].  

I recently attended another writing class and my little problem came up. The suggested solution: write on paper. Which I’ve done. And I finally managed to write something I actually like, except I’m too shy to post it. I re-wrote it three or four times, but at least I hadn’t junked the stuff I hated and all for the better – there were ideas there that weren’t as daft upon second reading as I originally thought they were. It’s a short thing, and it’s kinda embarassing, so I’ll leave it for Danny and my writing pals to look at it.

So what have you been so busy with? That’s an easy one. Sick children. All you mommies out there know what I’m talkin’ about here. The older one goes to school and brings back nasty long-lasting hacking-coughing and nose-dripping virus. Worse, this is one of those hang-around-for-the-entire-length-of-winter varieties (or so I’ve been warned). Older child passes bug to younger child. Like she always does. So I have a hacking-coughing-nose-dripping two-and-a-half-year-old with a bad-ass attitude (late terrible-twos bloomer, she is), and a hacking-coughing-nose-dripping baby with a bad case of eczema (imported from Oz land and still unable to shake it despite antihisthamine). Add to that both can’t sleep due to blocked noses and hacking coughs. Plus the older one becoming increasingly sticky and demanding that I bathe, change, feed, walk, carry her ALL THE TIME. This, of course, leads to a lot of yelling, cajoling, negotiating and bribing. Add on to this, me having to watch the younger one very closely to put a stop to the never-ending cycle of returning eczema due to continual scratching ALL THE TIME. So I’m either lathering on Aquaphor or some heavy moisturisor, or peeling his hands off his neck, arms, face, legs, or stuffing his hands back into his mitts (yes, he’s too old and too big for them, but he needs protecting from those itchy fingers of his). ALL DAY LONG. And the real kicker with the boy is taking of meds. He hates it. I hate to do give it to him. But it must be done, even if it means having to physically pin him down and shoving the syringe into his mouth. He really hates it. I really hate it.

It’s been a trying time. Why do people have more kids? In fact, why do people have more kids and have them so quick in succession? I recall reading somewhere a woman who had a 3.5 year old, a 2.5 year old and a 1.5 year old, AND a three-month-old baby. Is she mad? Is it even physically possible? I only have two, and two years apart at that. And I already think I’m mad. Why would I want more?

Remind me when I start talking babies again.