9yo Chief has sprouted out of his fit-him-last-month-jeans, so it was off to Goodwill yesterday to scrounge up some more. Luckily his hand-me-downs are always in great shape.

Chief's skinny, skinny enough that if I photographed him in shorts, crouching next to a brown puddle, and Photoshopped in flies, he'd be an Atmit ad.

He never wears his clothes out, because they hang on him like he's a coat hanger. So they're in perfect condition to pass down to 7yo Slayer, who promptly does wear them out. She thinks she needs to walk on her knees or something.

Plus I needed to pick up more bedsheets for fabric for the giant quilted pillowcases I'm making the kids for Christmas. We have a LOT of blankets but not enough pillows, so I sew these big, pretty quilted and lined pillowcases, stuff them with folded-up blankets, and tie them shut. And, viola, a personalized pillow big enough to be a headboard/seat cushion for when kids read in bed.

I love shopping at Goodwill. I pause for a moment at the door and look at everything and think, "I can afford anything in here." Makes me heady.

Guess what I found? A chaise loungue! Big, soft, comfy, and only thirthy bucks!

Of course the pattern is violently pink, purple and floral, and is a little stained and torn, but that's really a relief. Like when we bought Sherman The Suburban, and Dragoon pointed out a little dent in the back door and I sighed in relief. Because that meant we wouldn't be the first ones to dent the poor car.

I bought a $5 king-sized cream cotton throw and covered the lounge and my living room has enough seating now for kids not to have to curl up on the dog bed. A habit I especially deplored when we were on the way to church.

The kids are happy because now they can play Can't Touch The Floor! across 70% of the living room. My living room's pergo floor looks amazing for having burst into flaming magma several times in the past two days.

Plus I found great sheets. There are people around here who buy silky pima cotton sheets from Costco, or Eddie Bauer, or Pottery Barn, and then give them away at the least provocation. 

I've talked about this with my other cheapskate Mormon friends. Most of us have gotten baby outfits from someone who had one, maybe 2 kids. These people bought clothes new, maybe only on sale and not clearance or maybe even (stuttering here) Full. Price.  

Just because *I* can't imagine walking into the Gap or Gymboree and buying something full price, doesn't mean it doesn't happen. It does, I know it does, because it's what my kids wear 2-5 years later when the big-spending parent gives away their kids' clothes. 

I'm not judging. This is symbiosis here. If it weren't for some parents buying trophy wear for their babies, my babies would end up in the stuff my other kids have used or, worse, the stuff other Mormon families have used. We're talking shredded dustrags here. My Mormon friends are wonderful for canning and quilting with, but the best baby clothes come from Outside. 
 
Now I get to have silky pima cotton at $0.50/yd that I can sew into stuff for me and my kids. I will probably never be one of those people who buys expensive stuff and gives them away quick, but I am very grateful for those people.
 

A couple of days ago Dragoon came home from work to show me a YouTube video--this one:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ervaMPt4Ha0

and I promptly felt ashamed of myself. In a good way.

Most of my problems are of the fridge-too-full variety. (you know: Dang, the fridge is too full, now what do I do with all this stuff? Don't crack the eggs!)

It's good to wake up and remember the sacrifices a lot of people are making, so that I can be safe here at home with my kids and my too-full fridge. I am so grateful to the men and women in the US Armed Forces for all their sacrifices. 

I'm the daughter, sister and wife of former military. I understand a little what it's like to have someone deployed but of course I've never had to experience one of my loved ones not coming home. God bless everyone missing someone they love, but especially those who've had to lose someone.

Dragoon and I are searching for some way we can help, and I'm hoping whatever we find is something the kids can do, too. Anybody out there know of a good charity or care package group? 

Before I vent, a little defensive explanation: Dragoon isn't a morning person, especially not on Sundays, and I probably cursed myself by shopping at WinCo at 6 am Sunday morning.

But it meant that by the time church started at  9 am, Dragoon had just gotten up and I'd already been slinging groceries, Tetris-ing them in the fridge, feeding kids, riding herd on kids to get ready for church, making sure my lesson plans for Sunday School were okay, getting myself showered, etc. since 6 am.

Dragoon got up late enough it was a choice between him helping me get the kids out the door, or getting himself out the door, and bless him, he bathed and combed and braided and buttoned dresses and I pulled out of the driveway 10 minutes before Second Hour with his promise that he'd join us there as soon as he could shower and get in a suit.

Newly 4yo Cherry Blossom didn't want to go to Primary. She wanted to go to Nursery with Moose. I pleaded, discussed, watched the people rushing through the halls, and finally let her stay in Nursery. And got to my own classroom late enough that clearly the 16yos that I had seen and KNEW were there, and had brought treats for, had clearly assumed I was a No-Show and had absconded.

One showed up--the only girl in the class--and my flop sweat settled down until the Sunday School President was suddenly towering in the doorway, with 6yo Honeybee in tow.

"She wouldn't go to the chapel with the other Primary kids to practice for the program," he said.

I fixed a gimlet eye on Honeybee and said, 'Oh really."

Sunday School Prez quickly said, "Oh, she's not being bad. She just refused to do anything but sit in the Primary room."

He left, and I said to the poor 16yo girl in my class, "I'll be right back" and took Honeybee the the chapel and said, "Look, there's Slayer and Chief, go stand by them."

"I can't," she said. "I need to be with family."

"They are family,"  I said.

"I fight with them sometimes," Honeybee said. "I need to be with you or Dad. But That Man (the S.S. Prez) wouldn't give me paper and a pen."

Honeybee is normally our sunshiniest, but her mouth turned down and her blue eyes filled up.

"The Primary room is our meetingplace and Daddy doesn't know we're in the chapel today and I was going to write him a note so he'd know where we are when he gets to church but That Man wouldn't let me and so I was going to sit there until he got to church so Daddy wouldn't get lost!" And she was crying, and mortified that she was crying.

So I agreed to let her stay in my class.

but when I offered her the folding chair next to where I was sitting, she said, "No, thank you, I don't need you to talk to me or touch me, I just need to be in the same room" and she went behind the chairs and sat herself primly on the floor. And was completely silent until Third Hour started.

Now, I love teaching Sunday School. I really, really like those kids, and I've felt so fortified by the experiences and inspiration I've had while preparing lessons. And all that.

But the crucial Being There On Time is giving me absolute fits. I sat there looking at those empty chairs where the teenagers weren't because I was late, and I seriously thought about giving an ultimatum to my husband: Next week, get up on time OR tell the Bishop to release me from this calling.

That's not fair, though. Dragoon likes to sleep in, and even if he wanted to change that in the next 6 days it would take time. And it wasn't like he gave me attitude or didn't rush around, helping me as much as he could. He did, and I am grateful.

But that conflict is still there. Yes, teaching Sunday School is very nice for *me* but am I being a blessing to the Sunday School Presidency that's counting on me being there, on the teenagers who may be half-hoping I won't show up so they can get away with playing hooky?

I did everything I could to get us there on time, short of taking a belt to my childrens' backsides, and we were still late.  I've brought this up before with other mothers, and responses come from all along the spectrum from "We've never been late to church and Sunday School is an easy calling, what are you doing wrong?" to the blessed, blessed admission of my friend in Idaho, the mom of 15, whose husband said cheerfully "We were NEVER on time to church while we had kids at home. Just didn't happen."

And--this is something I'm not proud of--I worried that eyes were on me. I worried,  What if people were thinking, "Oh, typical, homeschooling's ruined her kids. Mommy's so overprotective that she can't even get them to go to Primary."  A good opportunity for me to become more humble and to remind myself that what other people think of me is none of my business. I think that NOW. But when I was cold-sweating with a unhappy child in the chapel, all I could think was, "Stop looking at us."

The kicker there is that if I were so overprotective, I wouldn't be freaking out about my lesson and class and desperately scraping my kids off on any willing ward member. As I tried to do.

I know a lot of sisters are single moms all the time, or are married to nonmembers and always are the sole parent at church. 

 I remember the SuperSisters I lived near on the USAF Academy who braved deployments and got all their kids to church anyway and did their harder-than-Sunday-School callings, and that was WITH a long drive and dealing with gate security.

Oh, ladies, I bow to you. I don't know how you do it. I don't know how any of you do it. I have reportedly the easiest calling in the church and I still feel like having panic attacks every weekend. How DO you do it? Are you all drinking Listerine or something?



 

You have to understand; reading is my superpower. The one and only. I run like I'm chasing chickens; my  cooking is strictly functional (I cook my meat JUST enough to kill off most the microscopic things); my homeschooling isn't calculated to send my children to Harvard by age 12, to say the least.

But, READING.

And it's not like I haven't been using my superpower. Oh, yes, I have. Ever since leaving high school I told myself "Eh...I should start writing again." In 2004, I added, "No, seriously! I mean it this time!" and then I started writing, and started figuring out what I wanted to write about, and then began the critical Over-Researching without which 35% of my current writing angst would be for nought.

(naught? Naught, nought....either one works, really)

Which meant instead of reading primarly fiction, crucially in the genres I wish to publish in, my reading went on Atkins and I started reading mostly nonfiction. Mythology books, books on languages, a LOT of theology, especially Hugh Nibley, and pretty much anything and everything about canids.

All the writing turned me into impressionable, snobby tofu. My standards for what I wanted to read rose in part because whatever I read seeped into me and turned into "original" plot ideas in my outlining. I've noticed that the more I read Ilona Andrews, the more I automatically turn to having strong absentee father figures in my characterizations. The more OSC I read, the more people argue about the ethics of things.

I don't imitate well, mind you. But like with my toddlers, I can see what my mind's trying to say, and I know where it's getting it from.

Okay so I'm posting at the Ilnoa Andrews forum, and reading everyone's rave reviews of some of her latest, and Patricia Briggs' latest (you'll recall that when I had my stellar idea for a supernatural series starring a female coyote set in the Tri Cities....I was already a few years behind the Mercy Thompso series?), and Charlaine Harris, and those are the just the authors I have actually read anything by! I haven't even touched anything by Kim Harrison or Meljean Brooks.

Even aside from the sucker-punching despair of going into a bookstore, flipping through the latest sci-fi/fan/urban fan books and seeing my ideas...even my character names...already there....

*puts that aside with effort*

ASIDE from that, there's the question of which books do I need to read to keep up, and how do I get them? $$$ ???

And....time? Precious time. There's the homeschooling of the five children, the getting my whites their whitest in the house, the sewing, teaching Sunday School at church to surly teenagers, the being married thing...

I am whining and I will stop. I apologize.

I've noticed with baby naming that the people MOST likely to name their children a name in the Top 10--snobby babynamers like me often say "Top Ten" with a note of horror in it, like how my 5th generation Mormon mom says "drinks beer"--the people whol do that, are people who are singularly unaware of baby naming trends.

Which is how you end up with 4 Sophies in a kindergarten class, and each parent says "Oh, it was so old-fashioned, and nobody I knew used it, and it was so pretty."

Not following the herd requires a certain level of awareness of the herd's location. I've taken that to an unhealthy level with babynaming and look through foreign language dictionaries and 16th century passenger manifests to Icelandic colonies for new names.

In reading, in current publishing, I am lacking that basic awareness. Which was how I came to the point where I"d been feverishly working with my head down for a few years on my very very secret Mormon werewolf/vampire novel when pop culture tapped me on the shoulder and said "Hey, did you hear? Twilight." and now the werewofl vampire thing is dying. Not dead yet, but not fresh and new. Oh, my misspent life.

Time and focus conflicts, not to mention the budget, mean I can't go read myself back to speed yet. I've got NaNoWriMo waving hi to me from November, and between that and homeschooling I'm booked to January.

So this is the deal I made with Dragoon: That once I finish a manuscript--I don't know if "finished" means revised or just drafted--I get to go blow a wad on used paperbacks of all the new shiny books out now. That's my carrot.

Dragoon grumbled a bit about it. I reminded him that used paperbacks is not only cheaper than the IKEA couch he'd promised me with initially upon completion of a manuscript, but also does not require a trip to Bellevue. He muttered something about how he was more willing to bribe me back when he thought I'd never get something finished.

Problem (mostly) solved.