Story Ideas From My Exciting Stay-At-Home Mom Morning

My day so far:

1:30 a.m. Awakened by Seth crying.  Waited a couple of minutes and he was back out.  Checked Twitter, email and Facebook.  Went back to sleep.

5:45 a.m. Awakened by Seth crying.  Fed him a bottle.  Checked Twitter, email and Facebook.  

6:15 a.m. Walked down to an open house I worked on Saturday near my house to drop off stuff that should have been dropped off last night.  Called my mom on the way and chatted about the kids, Texas weather, cicadas and whatnot.

7:00 a.m.  Seth woke up, checked on him and then going down the hallway in the morning sunlight, I could now see the giant maggot parade stretching from our front door to the back door where we take out the trash.  Have no idea how long the festivities had been going on.  Seth stubbed his toe.

7:02 a.m. Swept up participants in the maggot parade, and cleaned trail of blood off the floor from Seths stubbed toe.

7:15 a.m. Put a bandaid on toe and disinfected parade route.

7:20 a.m. Stood up during disinfecting process and whacked my head on the corner of the cabinet door I had left open when I got toe bandaid out.

7:21 a.m.  Immediately crouched back down, rubbing head and beginning to cry (this was th capper to a stressful weekend....)

7:30 a.m. Regained consciousness and composure enough to fold laundry and put in a load of towels.

8:00 a.m.  Stopped crying,  Made hot cocoa for my and my son, got dressed to run errands, made to-do-list for errands.  Took Tylenol for throbbing head from cabinet doors

8:35 a.m.  Drove to bank.  Checked Twitter, email and Facebook. (John is off work so I had the luxury of going by myself and having a quiet moment by alone)

8:45 a.m. On the way to the bank I heard a call-in contest to win Tom Petty concert tickets.  Dialed the wrong number.  Couldn't remember the right one.  Blew my chances.

8:50 a.m.  Tom Petty's "Free Falling" comes on to rub in the fact that I didn't get tickets,  put the top down on the car and sang along. Loudly. Because I know every word.

9:00 a.m.  Bank.  Fairly uneventful.

9:20 a.m. Michaels.  Had fun picking out butterfly stuff for a girl's birthday D was going to today.

10:05 a.m.  Stopped picking out butterfly stuff, finally, and hit the grocery store for milk and bread.

10:20 a.m.  Stopped by the house to pick up D and Seth for the party.  D was too busy watching Curious George to be distracted by a birthday party.  I put the hammer down, because parties are important.

10:30 a.m. Went to the party with butterfly gifts.  Had lots of fun--scavenger hunt, swings, sifting through sand  for treasures, painting, opening homemade geodes with treasures inside, popping balloons with treasures inside....you get the picture.

11:30 a.m.  Ate Mexican Food and donuts at the party.

Noon  Left the party to drop D off at Ninja Camp.  That's right....Ninja Camp.  We are cool like that.

12:05 p.m. Seth fell asleep in the car on the way home from dropping off at Ninja Camp.  Perfect.

12:15 p.m. Reheat my cocoa from this morning,  Lay down for a little bit because of throbbing cabinet door knot on my head.  

12:30 p.m. Really need sleep, but wrote this entry instead. Checked Twitter, email and Facebook.

And the day is not even half over yet.  There has to be a least a few story ideas in they're somewhere....Tha Maggot Parade....hmmm...D would love it.

In Submission....

Oh, that title can go so many ways.  Working on my first submissions as an author, and it's a little overwhelming.  But, I have put off this pursuit far too long, so here I go.  I have a children's poem I wrote a few years ago that I have adjusted and put in book form.  It is hard not to feel too personal about your work, especially when it was written about your child.  I have included the picture that inspired this poem.  It is Dylan running on the beach when he was no more than two years-old, thick, wavy black hair blowing in the wind, short legs at full speed.  He is such a spirited little guy.  He is five now, and this poem is just as true as it ever was.  The poem compares him and his spirit to that of the ocean.  It begins:

"Little child, you are to me, so much like the living sea.
Full of life, so strong and deep, in constant motion, vast and free."

It goes on for ten more lines and draws on the imagery of the incredible moving, changing, crashing, rolling ocean.  I have always loved the lines.  They fit so perfectly with the kind of child he is.  I know there are many who can relate.  I have begun submitting it for publication, so I will keep you posted!  In the meantime, with a second little boy who is just as adventurous, I will continue to enjoy their crazy spirits "crashing on the sandy shore, then off to search and to explore."  It is the stuff of my dreams.  It is the stuff of my reality.  And probably the stuff of my next story, too.