So Much Depends On A Box of Cereal--Marcia

Five years ago I pitched a book at the Whidbey Island Writers’ conference and it was like winning the Super Bowl. I was the little darling, the star of the show. I got everything I wanted: an editor at a major house who wanted my work and a killer agent who was edgy, gorgeous, had great jewelry and offices in Palo Alto and Manhattan. Even better—it was confirmed, I was a writer.

Five years later, I’m still sitting on the first draft of my manuscript unable to kick it through the goal post. I can’t begin to tell you how crappy this makes me feel.

But, you know what, today is Kindergarten Round-up. Three months from now, the three-month old I was nursing at Whidbey will be almost six and headed to all-day kindergarten. Yabba-Dabba-Do!

Between both kids its been nine years of crazy, and I’ve been right there for all of it. The only thing I’ve missed is the day my eldest took off around the junior high school track without training wheels. (I’m still mad at my husband for choosing that particular moment.)

I’m already visualizing the summer. I get up at 6:00, drink coffee and write while the kids sleep. I give them a cheery good-morning hug as they pass my office trailing their blankies headed for the couch and TV. There will be a selection of three organic cereals they've picked at Grocery Outlet. I'll give them the freedom to choose one and pour for themselves. They can live without me for the morning, right? So what if they pour themselves three cups full of Fruity Bronto Bites. Bribery is essential in the name of art and limiting bloodshed. I will have to figure out who gets the remote.

We will leave the house at 9:17 for the gym, where they will spend an hour playing video games while I try to whittle down my waist. Then the whole rest of the day can be about the boys. The pool, the library, the lake, concerts in the park, art in the park, sleepovers, sparklers-- all the great stuff of summer. Please dear Jesus, just let me have until 9:00 A.M.

I’m in training for the year to come. I may finally have those blocks of uninterrupted time I need to track down a thought. I can almost feel my brain beginning to snap back into shape. I need to see if I can finally finish what I started. I'm ready to punt, baby. I have so many more stories I want to tell.