azriona: (cat in a box)
The pre-orders for The Country Alpha are live - actually, they've been live since last weekend, I've just dropped the ball about promoting them, which is mostly for stupid reasons along the lines of not preparing better on my end. Anyway, they're live now and I've started the media blitz about promoting them.

TCA-Veronica-Final.jpg TCA_M-M3.jpg

(Click the covers, they'll take you to the correct Amazon pages for your prefered Amazon service.)
Read more... )

In the meantime... I've started doing "reading research" for the next story. Not the last Downing Cycle book... I'm going to write another m/m standalone first. One thing that seems to be very popular in the alpha/omega mpreg genre is to actually have more of the pregnancy within the confines of the story. There's also a fascination on the m/f side with royalty and millionaires and all that - so I'm going to try to combine the two. I have an idea, and it's not terrible, though it's kind of corny. Which actually isn't a bad thing for this genre. Only I came up with it last night at 2am while Charlie wasn't falling asleep, so the soundness of the plot might be suspect.

Everyone else: What an adorable toddler! I just want to steal him away!
Me: Yes, you may have him at 2am.
Everyone else: Hahaha, you're so funny!
Me: No, I'm serious. Here's the house keys. See you at 1:59.

azriona: (cat in a box)
No word on where we're going yet... but I've been making huge strides with Pen's next two books. One is ready for beta (and I should probably figure out who's getting it), the other is getting its last shake-down before I send it to the wolves.

In other news, everyone has a head-cold. Probably because no one is sleeping. (Though both boys slept past 7:30 this morning. I woke up at 6am.)

Bill, 6:15am: Good morning.
Me: I cannot move. They will wake up.
Bill: Better stay there, then.
Me: That's the plan.

I did end up getting out of bed at 7, and took a shower and got dressed.... and no sooner had I taken a single step outside the bedroom, but Charlie woke up.

Bill: Well, actually...
Bill: *sigh*
azriona: (Mr Morton)
I think the Sherlock remix fic is finished - that is, I have written the ending and there's a beginnign and a middle, though whether they all work together is really beyond me.  At any rate, it's done, and I've just sent to some of the usual suspects to see if they can look at it for me.  (Deadlines, schmedlines - I could have all the comments and notes on it in the next couple of hours and I still probably wouldn't be able to get the thing posting in time, so whatever.)

The next writing project - which isn't so much a project as a task - is Charlie's first birthparent letter.  This particular agency has us doing them a whole bunch the first year, and then only once a year after that, and the first one is due next week.  Terrible timing - Andrew's off school, Bill's in North Carolina, and I have NO IDEA when I'm going to be able to do it because no one in the house actually sleeps.  Except for the cat.  The cat sleeps.  I need to find out her secret and then apply to Andrew and Charlie.

(Charlie is not colicky.  Yet.  He just likes to be awake between 10pm and 2am every night, and if you stop walking him in circles around the house, he informs you of all your terrible choices in life.  Also, he's advanced from newborn grumbling to full-on infant yells.  It's endearing, when someone else is holding him.)

Andrew, in the meantime, has advanced to the next stage of sibling jealousy.  He definitely likes Charlie - he wants to hold him and has really gotten into reading Charlie books before bedtime (which is my sneaky way of getting Andrew to start calming down in advance of his own bedtime), and when we went on a walk yesterday evening, Andrew was very excited to tell everyone that he was pushing his baby brother in his stroller.

Overheard at gymnastics earlier this week:

Other little boy: Come see my baby brother!
Andrew: No, that's okay.  I have one.

The sibling jealousy - and I'm assuming that's what this is - reared up yesterday, with the following conversation:

Andrew: Are you Charlie's Momma?
Me: Yes, I'm Charlie's Momma just like I'm your Momma.
Andrew: I don't have a Momma.
Me: Yes, you do, I'm your Momma.
Andrew: No, you're Charlie's Momma.

(Apparently, I can only be one person's momma at a time?)

But later:

Andrew: Momma, will you marry me?
Me: You bet.

So I guess I'm engaged now?  It's gonna be a long engagement, though, since Andrew won't be of age for another thirteen years, which does give Bill plenty of time to fight for my hand.  (Then again, Charlie might want in on the action, too.)

Anyway - in lieu of new photos (which are all on the camera and not the phone and I haven't transfered them yet) - I have a video of Andrew playing peek-a-boo with Charlie.  It's a bit older - we're still in Florida at this point - but I forgot to post it earlier.  I think.  I'm not sure.  Did I mention swiss cheese yet?

azriona: (cat in a box)
(Background: there is a little boy in Andrew's gymnastics class who likes to misbehave. Andrew is a little boy who likes to follow the crowd.  Chaos ensues.)

Me: Okay, Andrew, today in gymnastics we're going to listen to Coach Rachel, right?
Andrew: Yes.
Me: If J does one thing and Coach Rachel says to do something else, who are we going to listen to?
Andrew: J.
Me: No, you need to listen to Coach Rachel.  If J does one thing and Coach Rachel says to do something else, who are you going to listen to?
Andrew: Coach Ashley.
Me: Okay, better.


Andrew: Momma, what is this music?
Me: It's a song called MacArthur Park and it's sung by a man named Richard Harris, and it is very possibly the most awesome song in the entire world.
Andrew: *looks at me like I have grown a second head*
Andrew: *so, so pityingly* Play trains with me, Momma.
Me: Yeah, that's fair.


Bill: Okay, so your anthology on Amazon--
Me: It's not exactly my anthology.
Bill: Whatever.  The anthology your story is in is #32 on the best-selling list at Amazon*.
Me: Wow.  That seems...high.
Bill: I know.
Me: I mean, that's good.
Bill: Oh, yeah, absolutely.  You're beating Edgar Allan Poe.**
Me: Okay, that's just awesome.  And sort of wrong.
Bill: And Sci Spanks: A Collection of Spanking Science Fiction Stories***.
Me: Um, what?
Bill: You're also beating The Deli Counter of Justice.****
Me: Is that like the Soup Nazi?  It sounds like the Soup Nazi.
Bill: There's a lot of erotic vampire stuff ahead of you, though.*****
Me: As long as it isn't sparkly vampires.  No one likes sparkly vampires.

Which granted is probably a seriously small subset.

**Also Jules Verne.

***Actual book.  I'm a little afraid.

****Also actual book, although it's pulled ahead since we had this conversation.  The synopsis sounds awesome, actually.  Rock, on, deli counter, rock on.

*****In the Fantasy side of the Sci Fi & Fantasy equation, where "my" anthology is currently sitting at #47.  I blame the vampires.

    azriona: (cat in a box)
    So the very exciting news over here (which, in typical me fashion, I am trying not to be overly excited about) is that the editor for the anthology liked the story, so it's in.  I am told it'll be available before Christmas via Amazon, and I'll post updates (and a link, natch) once I have them.

    The only trouble is (and this is very minor trouble) that I have to submit a 2-3 sentence bio of me, and I completely hate writing bios because they always sound endlessly stupid. Sharon lives in Virginia with her husband, son, and cat.  She plans to make zucchini cookies later today.

    So there's that.  Which is still pretty cool, and I keep thinking I ought to be dancing on the rooftops right now...but.  I have lived too long with the "don't believe anything until you have tickets in hand" theory, and while I'm not entirely sure what would count as tickets in this situation, I don't feel as though I have them yet.  (I do have an email contract, though.  I don't have a publish date, and perhaps that would count as the ticket?)

    (Sharon lives in Virginia with her husband, son, and cat, unless there's a hurricane and she gets evacuated.  Again.  But at least this time she can take the cat.)


    In other news, I've been working like mad on the Alphaverse story.  It's Omegaverse, except all the roles are reversed: Alphas are the oppressed gender, and it's a total dystopia, which is a great deal of fun to write.  And I'm about 56K in, and I kind of want there to be a revolution/insurrection/general unrest in the background, and I just realized that I have not done a lick of research into that sort of thing.

    (Sharon currently lives in Virginia with her husband, son, and cat.  Her favorite grocery store was burned down during the Kyrgyz revolution in 2005, and she had just found a really neat store with some gorgeous pottery when she and her son had to flee Cairo during the Arab Summer.  She left behind the pottery. The cat joined her 10 days later.)

    So now I have to research revolutions and figure out how one would overthrow an entire cultural system that is oppressive toward a segment of society.  I don't think I have to scrap the first 50K (thank goodness, because I really like a lot of it), but I might have to modify it a little.

    Me: Hey!  Fanfic problem, want to solve it?
    Bill: Sure.   Hit me.
    Me: I need to start a revolution.
    Me: I did marry you for a reason.

    (Useful Husband is Useful, what can I say?)

    (Sharon lives in Virginia with her husband, son, and cat.  Her husband is useful in any number of really scary ways.  Also, he's tall and can reach the stuff on the high shelves.)


    Lastly: so here's what I've been working on for Gridlock - I'm planning on giving these out during the con, because Girl Scout habits die hard.

    The idea is that I'll cut them apart and fashion them into either pins or magnets (I lean toward magnets, but I suspect people would rather have pins).  The unfinished one above Lestrade is going to be another set of John Watsons in his black jacket, and I still have to add the gold accents to the door to 221B.  I also want to make at least a couple more doors, because they are awesome.

    Anyway, I think they're cute.  (Molly especially, I really like how she turned out.  And Mary's scarf, which you can't really see in the picture.)

    (Sharon lives in Virginia with her husband, son, and cat.  She likes to create cross-stitch figures of BBC characters.  We all have our idiosyncrasies.)
    azriona: (cat in a box)
    I have this rule.  It's actually not my rule, it's an old State Department saying, but it really is a very good rule.  "Don't believe anything until you have tickets in hand."
    (This rule stems from all the times we've had various assignments which were pulled before we ever got close to going.  This has happened to me a few times already.  I know of at least one family who has altered the rule to "Don't believe anything until YOU ARE IN THE AIR ON YOUR WAY", because apparently their assignment was pulled before the plane even took off.)
    This is why I don't really get excited about things that are in the works.  I never actually believe I'm going until the wheels are actually in motion: i.e., I have tickets in hand.  No tickets, no excitement.  It's easier that way, even if it does seem to disappoint everyone around me.  I don't think I started getting excited about Egypt until we were actually packing out.

    So I think I'm to be a little bit forgiven if I'm only getting excited about the trip to Disney World now, because today, Bill and his dad bought the park tickets.  Okay, granted, we've had the flight tickets and the resort reservations for ages, but it's only with actually having the tickets that I felt good enough to register for the associated apps and FastPass+ thingies and all the rest, and Noel has been researching Harry Potter tickets and we're trying to determine if $170 for a hotel reservation is worth an extra hour in the park.  (At the moment, we are leaning toward no, though I'm sure we'd use it and be happy for it - it's just a bit too much and we're probably already going to spend that on stuff, and it's only the two of us, we don't mind standing in line.  Ooo, maybe we should bring the Harry Potter Uno cards, and get a few games going while we wait.  Worked for the last movie, anyway.)

    (I also have not made any FastPass reservations, because it seems like such a chancy thing to do with Andrew, who is absolutely going to have his own agenda, and I have no idea what it's going to be.  For all I know, we're going to spend the entirety of the first day riding the train in circles around the park.)

    (FastPass+ seems like it would be an easier thing to manage if you aren't also dealing with the variable moods of an over-excited 4-year-old.)

    (I suppose I could make reservations just for me, to ride on the roller coasters, but that doesn't seem to be in the spirit of things.  "Toodles, everyone, I'm leaving you all to stand in line for the thousandth time at Dumbo so I can get on Space Mountain lickety split.  BYYEEEEEE.")

    (I do love me some Space Mountain.)

    Andrew has now gotten wind of the Disney adventure.  He did know, sort of, that we were going, because we've mentioned it once or twice, but I don't think he really thought about it until today when he was informed (and I honestly can't remember which adult said it, so I don't know who to blame) that Daddy and Grandpa were going to buy tickets for Disney World, and when he heard that..., well, he sat right down on the lawn and watched them drive away, and was still sitting there five minutes later when I realized that he was waiting for them to come back so we could all go to Disney World together.

    (We are not going for two weeks.)

    And then - and this one is all my fault - I pointed out that we can't go to Disney World today because Disney World is in Florida and we are in Virginia, and we'd have to take a plane.  So now Andrew is all excited because we get to take a plane to Disney World (this just gets better and better for him, doesn't it?) and at bedtime, he had to double-check the list of people going.

    Andrew: I get on the plane?
    Me: Yes.
    Andrew: Momma get on the plane?
    Me: Yes.
    Andrew: Daddy get on the plane?
    Me: Yes.
    Andrew: Grandpa get on the plane?
    Me: He's going on a different plane, but he'll meet us there.
    Andrew: Cleo get on the plane?
    Me: No.
    Andrew: Poor Cleo.
    Me: Yes, poor Cleo.  But Auntie Noel will be on a different plane, and she'll meet us there.  And you can bring your Bunny.
    Andrew: Trunki get on the plane?
    Me: Well, would you rather have Trunki, or your rolling suitcase?
    Andrew: *eyes go all wide with anticipation and excitement* Rolling suitcase on the plane?
    Me: Yes.
    Andrew: Yay!

    I'd say the likelihood of me spending the next two weeks with an Andrew desperate to get on the plane and get to Disney World is 99.99%.  I wouldn't lay odds against it, I'll say that much.  Somehow all activities pale in comparison to Disney World and the prospect of a rolling suitcase on a plane.

    That said...I'm kind of looking forward to this trip.  I mean, I still think it's going to be something of a hot mess, in terms of Andrew's ability to not go completely haywire at any given moment, but he's been remarkably good at Busch Gardens, even when we had a half hour wait for one of the rides he really likes, so I'm hoping that'll translate from Grover to Mickey.

    And besides, one day, I'm going to be living it up in Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade, which is just going to be cool.  Well, hot, seeing as it's Florida in June, but you know what I mean.  (If it were literally cool, I could wear my Ravenclaw sweater.  At the moment, I'm kind of thinking "no" for that bit of costuming.)
    azriona: (Andrew - open mouth)
    I think I had my first conversation about race with Andrew this morning.

    Andrew: What's your name?
    Me: Momma.
    Andrew: No, you Momma Race Car.
    Me: Okay.
    Andrew: You big white race car.
    Me: Well, that's almost accurate. Who are you?
    Andrew: I Andrew Race Car. I BROWN race car.
    Me: Yup, also almost accurate.
    Andrew: Where's Daddy?

    And that was the conversation about race. I think. Well, one definition of it, anyway. I'm just not sure which definition applies.

    Then again, we also had a conversation this afternoon when he was trying to tell me that the little boy in the picture was a Momma. (To be fair, the kid's hair was somewhat long, so I understand his confusion.) My response: "Boys can't be Mommas, Andrew, this isn't the Omegaverse."

    I'm the only person in this house who gets that joke. *sigh*

    Andrew is majorly into conversations now. If you call the house, you're basically going to have Andrew stealing the phone and attempting to tell you about his day. (Usually it requires interpretation, but if you know the context, it makes sense.) It's hysterical. Once, when Noel called, he stole the phone from me and ran up to his room and locked the door and proceeded to talk to her for ten minutes. I don't think she understood a word.

    All those people who said I'd be sorry when he started talking and wouldn't stop? I thought they were wrong then, and I'm happy to say I still think they're wrong. I'm loving this.
    azriona: (cat in a box)
    Today was a gorgeous day outside, so Bill and Andrew went out on their bikes for a ride.  (Lots of trails, not a lot of traffic: very good biking to be had.)

    Anyway, they'd been gone for about an hour, and I was puttering around putting up pictures because despite being here for six months we are incredibly lazy when it comes to decorating, and I get a phone call from Bill.

    Bill: So...
    Me: Yes?
    Bill: Please rescue us.
    Me: Why?
    Bill: Andrew really wanted to ride his bike.
    Me: Where are you?
    Bill: Near the recycling center.
    Me: You mean the recycling center on the other side of the base?
    Bill: Yes.
    Me: That's like...three miles away!
    Bill: Yes.
    Me: You biked all that way?
    Bill: Yes.
    Me: I need to come rescue you.
    Bill: Please?

    So off I go, and about ten minutes later, I see them - Bill biking on the side of the road, Andrew right smack in the middle (he likes to follow the lines because they remind him of train tracks).  They turn and see me coming up from behind, and Andrew heads to the side of the road (because we've taught him well) and when I pull over, I could see the light dawning on his face, and even though I couldn't hear him, I could see him call out, "Momma!  It's Momma in Gonzo!"

    And then he got off his bike, and wobbled over to me. Wobbled, like a baby learning to walk, his legs were so shaky!  According to Bill, they'd stopped for a while, and Andrew gunned one of his Gatorades, but otherwise was a total trooper, and just kept going, didn't complain a bit.

    Andrew: Momma!
    Me: You biked so far!
    Andrew: I ride Gonzo now.
    Me: You bet.

    So he climbs up into Gonzo, and before Bill could even put his bike in the back, Andrew had sat down in the passenger's front seat and done up the seat belt.  And when we got home, he ate two bowls of Lucky Charms and collapsed on the couch and demanded Finding Nemo.

    (And amazingly enough: wanted to ride bikes to the playground afterwards.)

    End result: Went down to sleep at 8pm as if Daylight Savings Time didn't exist.  SCORE.
    azriona: (cat in a box)
    (The first night of Hanukkah:)

    Momma lights the candles

    Andrew: Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you...
    Me: It's not a birthday, Andrew, it's Hanukkah.
    Andrew: Senna helwah wa goneel...(Happy Birthday in Arabic)
    Me: Nope again.
    Andrew: Senna helwah wa goneel. *blows the candles out*
    Me: (lights them again)
    Andrew: (blows them out again)


    Bill: It's time to light candles!
    Andrew: NO CANDLES!
    Bill: And then Momma will say a prayer!
    Andrew: NO PRAYER!
    Bill: And then you get a present.
    Andrew: YAY PRESENT!


    Me: Okay, Andrew, the candles are lit.
    Andrew: PRESENT.
    Me: Go sit in the living room and I'll bring it down.
    Bill: Yes, go sit next to the Christmas tree and you can open your Hanukkah present.


    Andrew: My present! (opens the present) UNDERWEAR!
    Bill: Welcome to Judaism, kid. Wait until the bris.
    Andrew: Underwear!
    Me: Yep. Traditional Hanukkah present. Enjoy.
    Andrew: Another present?

    (In my defense, the underwear has Star Wars Legos and Lightning McQueen, and he was absurdly excited about it at first. I think it's less that he opened underwear and more that for some reason he thinks he's getting a Thomas the Tank Engine Wash Down. (Which he is, but not until Adoption Day.)
    azriona: (cat in a box)
    (Bill came home late from work, at which point Andrew was already in bed. But not asleep.)

    Bill: *cough*
    Andrew: Daddy? No. Daddy go to work. (resigned)
    Bill: *cough*
    Andrew: (hopeful now) Daddy? Daddy? Daddy?

    (Bill, who has not removed his shoes, clomps across the house to find me.)

    Andrew: Daddy Daddy Daddy Daddy Daddy Daddy....
    Me: Since he heard you clomping, go ahead.
    Andrew: Daddy Daddy Daddy...
    Bill: Andrew.
    Andrew: DADDY.

    (Rustle of fabric, scramble on the bed.)



    Andrew: (totally matter-of-fact, it should be noted) Daddy? I fell.

    (Cue Momma giggling like mad)
    azriona: (cat in a box)
    OH OH OH. I was so involved in trying to get today's chapter up, that I totally forgot to tell you all the bestest news!


    Yesterday I got a call from the storage folks up in Maryland and they've got our HHE shipment! And they're bringing it down on Friday, regardless of whether or not the furlough is over, because they're not government! (The only trick is whether or not they'll get paid eventually, but they're fairly sure that won't be a problem, I know other deliveries have been made because someone got his stuff yesterday.)

    All evening, Bill and I kept remembering things that are in HHE. My Kitchen-Aid! Andrew's bike! Bill's golf clubs!

    And all the notes I made for the Russian Bread recipe, so I can finally post that. And my measuring cups! And my baking dishes! And all my long-sleeved shirts, because OMG IT'S FRICKIN' COLD THIS WEEK.


    So Andrew's been home sick the last few days (I'm praying today is the last one; we're both going stir-crazy and have cabin fever and he's really okay except for the lingering cough and excessive clinginess, but that might be my desire to GET OUT OF THE HOUSE talking).

    We might end up going out today anyway; he's got OT this afternoon (he skipped speech therapy yesterday), and anyway, we're nearly out of milk.

    In other Andrew-related news, the following. Andrew has been learning a bit of German at preschool. Bill's been trying to supplement with his sort-of remembered high school German.

    Bill: Andrew, how do you say 'goodbye' in German?
    Andrew: Goodbye in German.

    Bill says it's like living in a Burns and Allen sketch. He's not wrong.


    azriona: (cat in a box)
    The bonus of having your father-in-law stay with you is that it's essentially free babysitting. From the minute he arrived last night, Andrew has been tagging along after Grandpa, except for this morning when he was in school, and for about an hour after coming home because Grandpa had hidden in the garage. (To be fair, he was at Home Depot first, but then he came home and hid in the garage until we accidentally found him.)

    It's been two hours, and I have no idea where either of them are. Last I saw, they were on the porch. It's possible that Grandpa is teaching Andrew how to drive. Either way, it's giving me time to do stuff around the house that otherwise would not be getting done. For instance, today I set up Andrew's new bed, assembled two sets of garage shelving units, unpacked all of the boxes of tools, and ironed. I'm also about to put the spicy roast chicken in the oven. (It's missing a teaspoon of cumin, though, because I ran out, and I'm not buying more on principle because I know I have reserves. It's just the reserves are somewhere between here and Egypt. I did buy more turmeric, because I like turmeric.)

    (Andrew also helped me massage the chicken up with the spice rub, and now I have yellow stains all over the kitchen. *sigh*)

    I was hoping to get one of those beyond-organic chickens for dinner tonight, but the cold I wrote about on Saturday? Yeah, as soon as Andrew woke up, all my energy was zapped into the ether, and I ended up laying out on the couch and letting Andrew watch TV all day. So no run to the farmer's market, and thus today's chicken has been sourced from the local organic-overprized grocery, antibiotic-free, veggie-fed, humanely treated, etc. Whatever all that means, of course. We'll see how Felix tastes.

    The free babysitting is short-lived, however, because Dad-in-law leaves tomorrow. I predict much sadness from Andrew when he comes home tomorrow and there is no Grandpa.

    The good thing, though, is that I'm feeling a bit more in control of the week - there's less things piling up, a lot of the big things are done. There's still some boxes to unpack, but the only major thing left to accomplish in the house is the bookshelves in the office, because I don't want to unpack the books until the bookshelves are secured to the wall. (Considering Andrew tried to climb the garage shelving before I was done with them - saying he was a "monkey", which at least is accurate - I think this is not a bad thing to ensure.) So I'd say there's a decent chance that I might actually get to hang in a coffeeshop at the end of the week and get some writing done, which would be lovely, since I have a whole mess of writing I want to get done for half a dozen stories buzzing around in my head. (Including a one-shot sequel or addendum to Mise. Blame EGT, it's her fault. Well, her and Alton Brown.)

    In the meantime, Andrew has hit over-stimulation (Grandpa AND a new bed AND a fixed scooter AND being well enough to go to the playground) and I have to give Felix his first flip.

    Andrew: Felix chicken!
    Me: Yep, Felix is a chicken.
    Andrew: Felix hot chicken.
    Me: Very hot. Don't touch!
    Andrew: Poor Felix. He's sad.
    Me: He's gonna be sadder if he doesn't want to stay on his side.
    Andrew: Poor Felix.
    Me: Yummy Felix!
    Andrew: Poor yummy Felix.
    azriona: (cat in a box)
    (Bill and I are sitting opposite each other at the table. Each of us are on our laptops.)

    (All takes place over IM)

    Me: B2
    Me: C2
    Me: D2
    Bill: ???
    Me: PER-KOW
    Me: glub glub
    Bill: You sank 3/4s of my BATTLESHIP.
    Bill: Learn to count, hippie.

    (Am feeling much better now about the phone, btw. I mean, still broken, no apology, but eh. It's a phone, it still works, and after I do or don't get the phone call I'm waiting for tomorrow, I can suffer it being out of my hands for a while in order to get it fixed. Teenage boys are teenage boys and it's a lesson for me for next time.)
    azriona: (Andrew - open mouth)
    So Andrew's vocabulary has progressed far enough that he can have actual conversations. Sort of. It should be noted that he doesn't really conjugate his verbs correctly (we're working on that) and like most toddlers, he demands rather than requests. But it's usually pretty clear what he means. For instance, when he wants me to come sit beside him, instead of saying, "Momma, come sit beside me", he said, "Momma, sitting!" As follows:

    Andrew: Momma, sitting!
    Me: Okay, give me a minute.
    Andrew: Momma, TODAY!

    I laughed for five minutes. (I also went to sit next to him.)

    Possible TMI re: potty training and school )

    Andrew drives a car! )
    azriona: (cat in a box)
    Andrew's last day of preschool before Spring Break today, and an early release on top of that. So I dropped him off and then proceeded to race around all morning trying desperately to get the shopping done and finish filling out a chapter for Mise (porn, which I find really tricky to write most of the time).

    Andrew, despite waking up at the ridiculous hour of 6.30 this morning (after having woken me up at 12.30 by crawling into bed with us and booting Bill into the guest room), was in a really good mood, which at least made the afternoon enjoyable. (I was worried he'd be in a foul mood due to lack of sleep.)

    He's talking a lot now - well, there's still a good chunk that is babbling, for lack of a better description, but a lot of times it's very clear and everyone understands him, and then other times I have to ask him to repeat himself. And he sings. It's hysterical, he'll start singing something completely random, like Jingle Bells as he's chasing Sebastian around the courtyard. And then Sebastian will join in so they're both singing Jingle Bells, except they never really get past the "Jingle Bells" part, which doesn't seem to bother them none.

    (He's also way into the Wheels on the Bus at the moment, complete with movements, which is very helpful for determining which verse he's on.)

    The following conversation, however:

    Bill: Andrew! Kentucky!
    Andrew: *blows raspberry*
    Andrew: Yay Cowboys!
    Andrew: Yay Red Sox!
    Andrew: Yay Tarheels!
    Andrew: Go Brewers Go!
    Bill: Andrew, what's your name?
    Andrew: Name!
    Me: You're not allowed to teach him any more sports phrases until he can answer what his name is when asked.

    On Writing )
    azriona: (cat in a box)
    This morning:

    Me: It snowed last night!
    Bill: How much?
    Me: A LOT!
    Bill: Really? Wait, that's not a lot. That's like two inches.
    Me: THAT'S A LOT.

    A little later:

    Me: (on the phone with someone one hour south) We're going to be a bit late, it snowed this morning and Bill had to shovel the driveway.
    Amy: Really? How much?
    Me: A LOT!
    Amy: So...a foot?
    Me: Grr.

    This evening:

    Me: Mom! It SNOWED.
    Mom: Really? How much?
    Mom: Wow! That's a lot!

    Goals for the Weekend )
    azriona: (cat in a box)
    I am slowly catching up on reviews from the Advent Calendar Drabbles - I stopped replying to reviews almost entirely when Andrew and I went to Indiana on the 18th. I'm also trying to respond to the emailed condolences - thanks much to all who sent, I'm mostly replying in order but it's amazingly not an exact science. Should be, isn't.

    It helps that at the moment, I'm not in Indiana. One of the original plans to the time in the States was that we'd go to Vegas to spend time with my mom's family. When Bill's mom started to decline, the plans altered so that only Andrew and I were to go. And when we knew the end was near, Bill and I decided to keep up with that alteration - mostly because it's really hard to plan memorials with a 3-year-old underfoot. (The fact that there's more to entertain a toddler in Vegas than in northern Indiana had something to do with it, as well as the presence of my parents. Which means I stand a chance of actually having an hour to sneak away and sit in Panera, which I have to admit would be nice.)

    Of course, all of this planning and thinking sounds cold when you type it out. I can't help but feel like I'm abandoning ship, so to speak, and leaving all of the heavy lifting to Bill, who is still in Indiana with his dad in an empty house, getting ready to drive to Connecticut for the first of two memorials. (One in Connecticut, where she grew up and where all her family lives and where she'll be buried, and then one in Indiana afterwards, after the university where she taught in back in session.)

    (Bill assures me I am not abandoning ship. And logically, I know that I'm not, that this is the best thing to do for Andrew, who needs to have a little normalcy and spend time with his other grandparents and have some fun because he's three, and he doesn't understand why we're all sad, or why Momma started crying when he went into the living room and saw the empty hospital bed and asked, "Where did Grandma go?" When told Grandma was gone, he replied, "Bye, Grandma, see you tomorrow." No one else in the house was awake for that, for which I'm grateful.)

    (This evening, after my mom went to church services with my aunt and uncle, Andrew and I went out for a walk. He looked around and asked again, "Where did Grandma go?" This time, I answered, "One Grandma went to heaven, and the other went to church." I like the symmetry in that.)

    But it's strange to have this respite, especially knowing that when the time in Vegas is over, Andrew and I get to board a plane again and fly to Connecticut for the first of the memorials, which are sure to be emotional and difficult and I have no idea how I'm going to manage to get through them - and that's purely from a logistical standpoint, because Andrew isn't going to want to sit for the memorial part, and I don't want to leave Bill alone through them.

    One of the good things with all this backing-and-forthing is that Andrew is getting really good at traveling. Flying from DC to Chicago with him was horrific - he kept running away from me, taking off his shoes and socks in the terminal, dashing into restricted areas. (Whereupon the security staff would turn to me and say, "He's not allowed back there." To which I would say "THEN WHY DIDN'T YOU GRAB HIM? DID YOU NOT SEE ME HUFFING AND PUFFING TWENTY FEET BEHIND TRYING TO CATCH UP?") On the plane, he played relentlessly with the tray (and wouldn't stop no matter what I did) and he threw his trains in the air so that they landed on the people sitting behind us. The only good thing is that he fell asleep during takeoff and stayed asleep until we landed.

    But flying from Chicago to Vegas, he was gold. He didn't cry, he came when I called, he stuck near me in lines, he was patient and cheerful and all around the very model of a well-behaved child.

    (Someone asked if that was his first flight. Oh, how I laughed. You know that gif of Martin Freeman laughing and then saying very flatly, "No"? That was me.)

    But, lest this post be too depressing:

    It's either actually funny, or just funny in comparison. )
    azriona: (Default)
    1. Bill has accused me of using this week in London to relive the month I lived here five years ago.

    He's not entirely wrong. You know, if you ignore the fact that I'm not working and I've brought my husband and son along, plus I'm living in a different part of the city, this is more or less what life was like for that totally awesome, fantastic, one-of-the-best-months-of-my-life month.

    2. The following conversation happened:

    Bill: You bought scones, right?
    Me: Yes.
    Bill: Can I have one?
    Me: Sure. What do you want on it?
    Bill: ...Nothing?
    Me: They're kind of plain.
    Bill: Didn't you get a flavored one?
    Bill: But...they didn't have lemon scones?
    Me: Honey, the Brits don't really do lemon scones.
    Bill: make lemon scones!
    Me: Note: I am not British.
    Bill: But there's no FLAVOR.
    Me: Scones are really only vehicles for the clotted cream and jam, sweetie.
    Bill: So you're telling me that I came all the way to London just to discover that I like your scones better?
    Me: Yup. Here, I bought you a saffron bun. Eat that instead.

    3. (I have been having a scone with clotted cream and jam every morning for breakfast. I'm pretty sure that this is technically Not Breakfast Food. I'm also pretty sure I don't care, because I've been having a scone with clotted cream and jam every morning for breakfast.)

    4. I've got about a dozen bookmarks on Tumblr at the moment - I forgot my earbuds, so I can't actually listen to anything without risking waking up Bill or Andrew, so I've been bookmarking all the music and videos. I'm sort of fearful for how long it'll take to get through them when we get back home.

    5. And...shoot, Andrew's awake. I think there was something else, but I can't remember it now.

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