That Sound

You know that sound, somewhere between exasperation and disgust? That huffy, "uhnnnngh" sound that can be drawn out for several seconds?

Yeah, that.

I called someone this weekend to check if she was still okay to do something she'd agreed to do. Her husband answered the phone.

He called her to the phone, and I heard this:

Him: It's Becca Wilhite.

Her: Uhnnnnngh.

I had to pull the phone up around my head so he wouldn't hear me laughing.

See, the thing is, I always think people are doing that noise about me. I assume they're rolling their eyes, wondering "really, what does she want now?" I have numbers to prove, since the advent of callerID, many of my acquaintances have stopped answering my calls. Proof. Fact. And I am thrilled to report that the latest incident of huffy-angst made me laugh.

Because I'm okay with that. I'm all right with the fact that she was disgruntled, knowing that I was asking her to do something she already committed to, and didn't want to do anymore. It was not my bad. And it was funny.

Husband thinks it's funny, too, and has followed me around this weekend, doing "uhnngh" noises at me whenever I ask him to a) close a window b) grab me a glass c) tuck in a kid d) turn off a light. He's hilarious.

And I'm making HUGE strides. Because weeks ago, that would have hurt my feelings (the phone conversation, not Husband - I'm totally past letting his comedy hurt my feelings). A year ago, it would have made me cry. But now I laugh.

Because, really? That's funny.

Wrinkly

Revisions are getting in the way of my sleep.

Nothing should get in the way of my sleep.

God sent me babies who slept many hours at night, because He knows this about me: I need to sleep at night.

But last night, after a late, late night of Colin Firth, I was antsy, so I read for a while. I finished the book (Catalyst, by Laurie Halse Anderson - 3 stars) and it was many hours past late. Then I tossed. And I rolled. And I pondered. This is all very unusual. There are few nights that I don't sleep like I mean it. I am very good at sleeping.

And the few times during the night that I recognized that I was sleeping or dreaming, my subconscious inserted scenes from my WIP that I hate, or that my critiquers questioned. Yes, dears, I was "dreaming" revisions.

CURSES!

Writing is fun. It is wonderful. It is a great gift. But it is for waking hours. See, this is different than dreaming characters who, upon my waking, fill pages with bestselling adventure series. This isn't dreaming, really. This is working in my sleep. And that is simply not fair.

And I am a firm believer in Fair.

So, I'm up and doing, putting those wrinkly scenes and lines to the press, getting them smoothed out so that tonight (or at noon today) I will get into my bed and sleep the sleep of the just. At least until I recognize some new wrinkle.

It's Friday! Let's Party!

Husband and Kid 4 are heading out tonight for the annual Fathers and Sons' camp-out. Honestly, we're not much for camping in our family. This is why we have a mortgage, you know - so we can sleep in our beds with window screens between us and the bugs. But this Fathers and Sons' thing is a tradition (I'm not sure why), and Husband was sonless for many of his fathering years. Once he took Kid 1, but over my objections. He won. He always wins.

The forecast for tonight at the lake where they're camping is rainy, high of 70, low of 41. This does not sound like prime camping weather to me. But, hey - I'm not going. Being neither a father nor a son has such advantages.

Like this: Netflix is sending the BBC's Pride and Prejudice (both discs) and there will be some serious Girl Stuff going on tonight. We will eat veggie pizza (with pesto and mushrooms and artichoke hearts and onions and spinach and sun-dried tomatoes and green peppers and olives and fresh mozzarella. We will also eat lots, lots, lots of good popcorn with a great deal of butter. (Um, yes. Girls' Night revolves almost completely around food and British accents. Thanks for asking.) There may be some toenail painting, but I make no guarantees - our hands will be full of pizza and popcorn.

Hope your weekend is joyful, too!

Love My Word Nerds

My kids, if they fought, would be nerdfighters. But they don't fight. Instead, they do things like this.

Kid 1 just came inside after sunbathing (in vain, I must add - we are a pink family). She hung with me in the kitchen for a few minutes, chatting about High School registration tomorrow, yadda-yadda. Then she said, "Well, I'm off to don some clothing," which just cracked me up.

Maybe it's not even funny, but I love that she said it only to amuse herself, really not caring at all if I laughed. But I did. Cause she's cute like that.

Forever Love: A Moment with Kid 3 (8 years ago)

I paused at the window, looking out at the moon sinking behind the mountains to the west. Normal people weren't awake at this hour. Just me and this tiny, not-growing-fast-enough baby. I held her in that perfect new-baby place, head tucked under my nose so I could smell her magnetic baby perfume, her tiny body curled only inches below.

I whispered comfort into her sweet-smelling head and rubbed circles in her round back, walking, walking the six steps from wall to window, window to wall. Her breathing settled into new-baby sips of air that I could feel at my neck, while her hummingbird heartbeat rattled my hand.

Stopping again at the window, I thought how strange that even now, in the past-middle of the night, it wasn't really dark out there. Down low, beneath the second story we stood on, porch lights and street lights and bright, tacky doorbell lights hung, warming the blue night with a yellow glow. Higher, that moon, orange in its descent, smeared heat over the mountaintops.

And the stars. They filled the sky in amazing sizes and colors - blue, green, red, silver, white. I moved nearer to the glass, craning my neck to see as high as I could. Pressing my baby close to me, I felt Heaven open, swirling around us, filling that small room with eternity. Almost dizzying, the feeling gave me at the same time a sense of my insignificance and knowledge of my incredible power - the power to build this, a family.

I slid to the floor, cradling my precious tiny one, and lifted my face to the stars again. I offered up a heart-prayer, wordless, thanking God for this moment, this glimpse into His world. His world of Forever Love.

Ideas aren't Enough

I have an idea for another story.

YEA! Cause for celebration!

I haven't been doing a lot of writing lately, because I'm revising. * And revising is good. I want my book to be as good as it can, so I'm attacking it before the editor gets started, because logically the cleaner it is before she gets to it, the better she can make it, right?

But it has been awfully easy to find excuses. I'm jogging (over 4 miles this morning), I've got meetings, someone needs help practicing the piano, someone needs a tennis partner, there's a good book to read, I should make some bread, taking a shower is a good idea** ~~ like that.

But Kid 1 was playing one of those "if you only really knew me" songs in the car the other day - you know, the "I like being your friend, sure, but your girlfriend is sort of a skank/not good enough for you/actually an alien/simply not me, so you should be with me instead" sort of song. And I can write that. I actually already have it set up, as a sequel to what I've been working on since spring.

So why am I not doing it?

Um, I just finished jogging. So I need a shower. And I have a meeting in an hour and a half. And we don't have any bread. And Kids 3 and 4 really need to practice the piano. And I need to pick up Kid 2 from work and get her to violin lessons before she needs to babysit around the corner. And Kid 1 needs to play a little tennis.

And also, I'm lazy.

*That's code for "because I'm lazy"

**I totally believe this one

How Do I Manage to Do Things Like This?

I accidentally tried out for a community theater play.

But, Becca, you ask, how does one accidentally try out for a play?

Well, I answer, one loses one's mind.

Clearly.

Like this. I took Kid 1 and Friend to the community center so they could try out for the show. They sat/wandered/paced nervously for a while before filling out the audition forms. I yuk-yukked them up and got them comfortable (through the parts of the form that said "You may attach a resume here*" and "You will hand over your firstborn at our convenience**") and basically helped them giggle their way through the nerves. That's the kind of Mom-slash-Friend's-Mom I am. (Right now.)

Then they started telling me I should audition. I was, as you certainly recall from the above paragraph, making a real effort to loosen up some uptight freshmen, so I said, sure. No big deal. Auditions, psht. Whatev. I'll try out with you guys. First I made sure Kid 1 was really okay with that, because all I need is for her to go all "ick, my Mom follows me everywhere" on me. But she was sincere, and her friends (now there were two) were sort of amazed that I'd even consider it.

So Kid 1 went in first, and she sounded great (even though she has a beautiful singing voice, she is a really quiet kid, both singing and speaking). We lurked and maybe pressed our ears to the door. She absolutely shouted her cold read (as she was supposed to - it was an Angry Scene). She got a call-back.

Then Friend went in. She's darling. She sang and read and came out flushed and relieved to be finished.

My turn.

Hey, audition committee. How y'all doing? I'm really here as moral support for the girls. This singing in public part is just icing. Do you have music here that's made for an alto? (Kid 1 is a soprano, and brought Phantom music. Not so much in my range.) So I sang a totally not rehearsed version of Amazing Grace, and did a cold read that was printed in teeny-tiny font not made for me. But it was fine.

I got a call-back, too.

This may end in comedy. We shall see. I'll keep you posted (get it? Posted?). If Kid 1 and I end up as the hottest musical theater sensation mother-daughter act since Judy Garland and Liza Minelli, you can say you knew us when...

*True.

**Not true.