I've been trying to finish reading this particular manuscript for nearly a week now... it's on the short side (only 180 pages), but it's just not. holding. my. interest. I feel like I need to turn in the completed press release tomorrow, but I cannot complete said release until I finish the damned book. It's been open on my laptop all evening; instead of reading this lovely tome, I've trolled oDesk for jobs, played Scrabble, read blogs, watched a movie on FX, considered showering, thought of snack options, decided I was too lazy to shower OR snack, congratulated myself on the latter, plotted what time I'd need to get up in the morning to get showered, wondered if I could get away without it for the morning, told myself ten times that I should really go to bed, researched pancake recipes for the cooking challenge (a sidenote: I've made THREE kinds of pancakes for the effing cooking challenge in the last couple of years, and now they've chosen pancakes for this month's challenge. Can I just refer everyone to my previous entries???), found a good recipe for a brunch I've been invited to in a month, made a grocery list in my head, considered getting up to get my phone to put the list somewhere that I could actually use it, rejected the notion of getting up from the couch, made a mental note to start the dryer again, and blogged. Looking at that list, I feel slightly more productive than I actually was. Jay and Natalie have been asleep for hours. I should join them. Especially if I plan to shower in the morning.

I've been hard at work putting together my own personal literary sweatshop (tm my friend Seth-- I love the phrase, and it perfectly describes my pay). I've cobbled together three or four semi-regular things, and I'm writing bits and pieces on the side. I've enjoyed this tremendously. However, my study time for the CCA exam has been DRASTICALLY reduced as I commit myself to write more. I've intended to study the last couple of mornings, but instead I found myself pounding out five articles on the topic of personal finance (250 words per article, at 2 cents a word-- yes, that is TWO CENTS, as in two pennies) instead of boning up on the art of medical coding. I've decided to view this time of low-paying work as an internship of sorts. I'm becoming familiar with the rhythm of copy writing, and I'm learning how to write about pretty much anything thrown at me. Above all, it's fun. This evening, as Jay and Natalie played on the Wii, I wrote 500 words about the difference between antihistamines and decongestants. It was fabulous. I felt such a sense of accomplishment for 45 minutes of work, a sense of accomplishment that has been gone from my day-to-day life for the last few years. Being a mom is tremendous, the best thing I've done, but you don't get a lot of positive feedback. I'd love to have a formal performance review once a year. When Nan was small, that's how I viewed visits to the pediatrician... when she grew, I felt like I'd gotten a great review. Dr. O had no idea how much my self-esteem depended on her casual, "Looks good, mom!" As the kid gets bigger and ventures out into the world on her own, I have to find something else to give me that feeling. This might be it.

So today was the big kindergarten roundup... and, honestly, it was kind of a let-down. It was just a bunch of paperwork. I'm not sure what I was expecting, but I guess I was expecting more. (Lassos? Horses? The roundup terminology is confusing...) We get to go back in mid-April in the evening, so she can get a look at the classroom and we can get a crack at the teachers. I /did/ manage to grab the PTO materials, and I've been trying to decide how I can be of service there. Nan did a beautiful job, waiting quietly for me to finish the eighteen tons of paperwork. She made a friend over by the pile of My Little Ponies, though (of course) she couldn't tell me her name twenty minutes later. That's her father-- I remember everyone in my third grade class. I'm lucky Jay remembers MY name.

Tonight, Nan and I discussed the sibling issue for the first time. Specifically, her lack of siblings. She was sharing the details of her future with me at bedtime, and she said she planned to have at LEAST two children, maybe more. Because the kids might get lonely. Tenatively, I asked her if SHE ever wished she had a brother or sister. "Yeesssss..." she said, eying me with hope. I explained that she was the only kid in our family, and that was how it was going to stay. "Why?" Hmm. How much information is TOO much for five? "Uh, well, Mommy and Daddy had a really tough time getting you, and because of Mommy's health problems, we decided to stick to one kid." "What are health problems?" Oy. "You know how Mommy has arthritis? Stuff like that." I doubt the kid would understand "minimally invasive hysterectomy". She seemed content with the explanation, and we discussed the many pros to being the only kid in the house. But she still plans to have many children. And if they want a dog? "Heck YEAH I'll get them a dog." I'm duly chastened.

My kid is five, and this is the first time daylight savings has actually disrupted her sleep. She's been staying up at least an hour past her usual bedtime, and it's about to kill me. KILL ME DEAD. And I, in turn, am ready to kill the genius who thought up daylight savings DEAD. I don't care if he's dead already. I'll get 'im again. This simply highlights the fact that I have made a wise choice in stopping at one kid, a kid who was an excellent sleeper at that. I HATE disruption to the master schedule. Luckily, Nan usually hates it, too. I assume this will be short lived. I assume she'll be asleep before 10pm sometime in the near-ish future.
Anyway. Nan has recently discovered a deep love of chocolate-chip bagels. I find this to be delightful. Personally, and I know this is sacrilege, but I prefer bagels to doughnuts. Shh. Don't tell my husband. He and Nan have a tradition of doughnuts on Saturdays, and I would love to sway her to bagels.

This is the time of year I dread... show choir season. My husband directs the band that accompanies the show choir, thus my husband accompanies the band that accompanies the show choir on alllll the trips to the various competitions the group attends-- most of them are in the state, but they've got a few that become overnight trips. And if the choir actually makes it to the finals of the competition? They might not make it home until the wee hours of the next day. I know, deep down, it's wrong to hope they don't make it... and yet. It's nice when he's home before 10pm. On top of the lost weekends, we also have the weeknight rehearsals. And the hours of arranging he does before the rehearsals begin. I'm glad my husband loves his job; he's one of the few people I know who genuinely enjoys going to work every day. He loves working with kids, and he loves, as he says, "being paid to play the guitar all day". But it's ROUGH on me, and rough on the kid. She misses her dad. They've got one more competition to go. We can make it.
In other news, my kid will be a kindergartner as of Thursday. We head to her elementary school for Kindergarten Roundup. She's excited, with good reason. We drive past the school on a regular basis so she can gaze at it with longing-- she cannot WAIT to go to big kid school. I cannot believe my baby's going to be riding a school bus in the fall. She's small! It's big! I'm lame.