Piece of Cake

Right now I’m trying really hard not to eat cake. The thing is, it seems like eating cake might make my day better and, you see, I have so much of it.

I had my own little Cake Wreck yesterday. I didn’t take pictures because it was just your run-of-the-mill crumb and frosting collapse.

Yesterday was Chunky’s birthday. Poor kid. I bombed my role of party planner. As you know I’ve been a little distracted with a certain novel, so when Chunky asked for a Minecraft party, I groaned and said, “I don’t know how to do a Minecraft party.”

He said, “How about a vampire party then?”

I said, “Ok, you can have a Minecraft party.”

But as we got closer to last weekend’s conference and I got crazier with my deadline, I realized I couldn’t pull off a party at home. We agreed to have it at LaserQuest and have Minecraft-themed food.

Yeah, that fell apart too. Honestly, at one time I was good at this stuff. We once had a pirate-themed birthday at our house with 34 kids in attendance. Yes, you read that right.

But I had to knock my youngest’s expectations down once again when I realized my ideas for cubed food and green Minecraft Rice Krispie treats wouldn’t materialize without magic.

He didn’t mind as long as we could construct an elaborate, many-flavored cake landscape complete with mountains, a canyon, and a lake.

I talked him down to a simple layered cake. And then that fell apart! Talk about shredding my Super Mom cape. Chunky was a good sport when we had to run out last minute and buy a cake, and he did have a lot of fun at his party.

Me, I’m feeling the weight of what I didn’t do this last month. I didn’t:

1. Pull together an awesome Minecraft party.
2. Clean my house. At all.
3. Cook a nutritious meal.
4. Shower regularly.
5. Feed the turtles more than a couple times a week, which is about how often they should eat, but Roger sits in his food dish and looks at me with sad turtle eyes. Guilt! 

 Yes, I did finish a book. And I did pitch that book and get a request for the manuscript from an editor. Woohoo!

As I head back into another month of intensive editing on this story, I’m very aware of the choices I make in order to pursue this dream. I sometimes let my expectations and other’s expectations cause me guilt.

But the truth is, Chunky had a fantastic day yesterday. He happened to be off school on his birthday and we spent the whole day together. I didn’t touch my manuscript once, but I did give my nine-year-old lots of hugs.

I’ve intentionally let the housework slide and though it bugs me, my life’s goal isn’t to die and have people say, “Her house was always clean.” I hope they have something more interesting to say, even if it’s just, “Evangeline was never one to pass up cake.”

What about you? Is there an expectation you’ve let go—or trampled—in order to pursue a worthy goal. Will people talk about your clean house at your funeral?

By the way, I totally ate a piece of cake.

It's Harder Than It Looks

With the exception of housework, I don’t like to leave things undone. So much so, in fact, that when I’m singing a song and I can’t remember the words I will finish it by saying, “The rest of the song.” My husband finds this hilarious and will wait for me to hum myself into a corner and be forced to sing something like, “la, la, la, yeah…the rest of the song.”

Right now I’m just about out of my mind because I’m nearly done with the novel I’ve been working on for a year and a half. But it’s summer, the kids are home. They are so home. So very, very home. Help! Somebody save me! They’re HOME!

I try all day to keep them busy, entertained, and not killing each other. Bedtime comes late. I wish I had the energy to write once they’ve finally gone to sleep, but instead I end up slouched on the sofa, watching Mr. Bean and thanking God that I made it through another day. And hoping my ADHD kiddo doesn’t grow up to BE Mr. Bean.



Even though I’m not getting a lot of writing done, my Work In Progress is on my mind all the time. Kory is forced to live in whatever story world I’m working on and has become accustomed to me rattling on about fictional characters and problems. Sometimes he listens and gives me great feedback. Sometimes he nods and says, “Uh, huh.”

The other day I was rambling about a plot problem, just thinking out loud while he relaxed on the sofa—probably wishing for some peace and quiet. I finally figured out how I was going to cause the disaster I needed to precipitate the book’s climax. I must’ve stopped babbling abruptly because Kory looked up from his position on the couch, quirked a brow at me and said, “The rest of the book?”

Exactly. I wish it were that easy!