Pretend

My literary pretensions...

Mr. Dadguy's grandmother is dying. I'm not writing about her dying...I don't think that the family would feel comfortable with me blogging about her passage, and I wouldn't go into particulars anyway. She is not a woman that I know very well, but she loves Dadguy and hey, that makes her a sensible and worthy woman in my book. She has always told me how lucky I am and what a sweet boy he has always been. She says this with great love and pride and I admit I cannot disagree with her.

Gramma F is able to play the piano by ear alone, she's really good. She has been wanting to leave this with someone in the family and the likely guy is Dadguy. He's got a great ear and once taught himself to play the song "No Holly for Mrs. Quinn," by Enya, top and bottom hand the whole shebang. It's my understanding that she teaches people who want to learn some chords, sprinkles fairy dust on their fingers and then they can play most anything. She has started to work with Dadguy and he has been trying to get in some practice time so that he can play her a little something before she has to go. He was trying for some keyboard time at the piano the other night and it was pure chaos. Chaos-girls, piano, Dadguy... well duh! The effort was valiant and in the end some progress was made partly due to my act using some smoke, mirrors...aaaaaand a little bit of old fashioned duct-tape-the-kids-to-the-carpet action. Forty five minutes later, after they Houdini-ed their way out of the tape and delivered their poor pop some WWF smackdown style lovin' he was limping down the hallway and gave me some kind of apology for having to work so hard to keep them off of him. Something about how he hadn't picked a great time to try to practice. I told him that he had little kids and if he was gonna wait and practice when all the stars were in alignment he wasn't EVER going to get it done.

epiphany. The same goes for this review.

I wanted so bad to be able to give a bang-up professional presentation. I wanted to write this review and have people read it and go... "dang I want to HIRE that woman to write for my newspaper, magazine, literary journal! Such talent, such an amazing command of ... of... of ... whatever it is that you have to have for a cool writing career." Yeahhh... whatever. First off even were I so awesome as to get some poor schmuck agent or the editor of "Yakkity-Smakkity-High-Tone-Magazine" banging on my digital door, I am a mom. I have chosen to BE a mom and nothing but a mom for right now. If things work out the way that Dadguy and I have planned we will not be figuring out taxes for me until after my kids walk out the door to college.

Section 26A of my personal reasons for this decision...
I used to think that I was this superfly multi-tasker. That was before I had kids. What I have discovered, post-procreation is that while I MAY be able to multi-task I don't do it pleasantly or kindly, and very likely have never done it particularly well either. On top of that, writing is very hard for me. But I love it so. I would never be able to balance a career and raise my babies the way that I want to. Maybe some women can, I can't and won't for so long as I don't have to.

and OH YEAH! No one is asking me to embark on this stellar writing career. By the way it's not polite to laugh at peoples dreams no matter how absurd. When someones actual life is poopy diapers, endless rounds of laundry, finding the entire contents of the refrigerator set out carefully in swooping patterns on the kitchen linoleum on a daily basis and losing every personal boundary known to man, a rich fantasy life is important. So shut it. Now.

I was going to post this along with the review.... but this part is done and the review is halfway there so suck it up and drink water folks! There is the outside chance I'll be done by tomorrow, and the slightest chance that it will make sense.