The Girl Who Cried Diva

Earlier this week, I felt like the crummiest mother on earth. My daughter had a broken arm for almost a full day before I realized we really needed an xray. In my defense, who does an air guitar, enthusiastically and with joyful gusto, with a broken arm? And every time she complained about her arm hurting, it was connected wanting to make sure that she could wear a pretty silk scarf as a sling to school the next day, or wanting to get out of buckling her own seat belt, a fit that she throws almost every day. Also she was making a bigger deal out of the scraped knee she got at the same time, because she could see blood. The Diva puts the same amount of emotional energy into complaining about papercuts or having to get herself dressed for school. So really, I ask you, what's a mother to do?

Before the Last Day of School

Last night Diva Girl said to me, "Ha! Now you have to take care of four kids instead of just two!" (Her tone of voice was full of nah-nah-nah-nah-nah!)

I told her I was looking forward to having two more slaves.

She told me that I'd be the one to be a slave.

We'll see. Considering they've been home for less than an hour, and they're already babysitting Baby Amazing for me, I think I may be winning.

Oh My Diva

Diva Girl was in a class play this week. As much as I love to hear that girl sing, I've been dreading it since I heard that in what was probably an attempt to make parents' lives easier, the only required costume item was a pair of jeans.

Diva Girl doesn't do jeans.

As I knew would happen, Diva woke up the morning of the play with a serious scowl going on. The scowl progressed to tears as she cried, "Nothing matches with jeans!" The crying only got louder as I heartlessly told her that "Everything matches with jeans."

And then she started the banshee howl as I reminded her that the bus was going to be here in a few minutes and like it or not she better get her little rear in some jeans.

The howl continued and intensified as I called upstairs counting down till bus time. Three minutes. Two minutes. One minute . . . and she stomped down the stairs with her cute little face scrunched up in fury, finally wearing some adorable jeans with a very matching shirt.

I handed her her breakfast on her way out the door, and she turned and said to me, "They tell you that school plays will be fun, but they're not!"

This girl is going to be such a fun teenager.

I've Been Found Out

Last night my son asked me to make him a cake. To put him off, I said, "We'll see." He walked off crying (he needed a nap and was giving me a perfectly good reason to not feel guilty about giving him sugar), and he said, "Mommy isn't going to make me a cake." I guess he's learned Mommy speak.

On the Last Night Before I'm Old

My sister thought my plans for the last night of my twenties weren't that exciting. Maybe she was right. But she got me reflecting on the last decade and all that happened in my twenties. It was an awesome decade.

It started off meeting the most amazing man on the planet who became my best friend, my first boyfriend, the first boy who held my hand, gave me my first kiss, and became my husband. I've spent the last almost ten years loving him more and more every day.

I brought four of the most beautiful, amazing children into this world and started on my journey of learning how to be a mom that I figure will take at least the rest of my life to really figure out. I've even started to get the hang of a few things. Each one of them brought me so many firsts.

I became an aunt.

I learned that I love writing, wrote several bad picture books, the beginnings of a few novels, and then completed my first novel, wrote it again, and started it all over again. I'm even starting a new one.

I dropped out of Utah State University when my first baby was born.

I graduated from Brigham Young University just a month before my third baby was born.

I learned how to speak Spanish.

I forgot how to speak Spanish.

I learned how to drive.

I bought my first two cars.

I bought my first home.

It's been a pretty great decade, so I figure I can relax on this last night of my twenties knowing that I put the years to good use. Yeah, I could have done more, I guess, but might as well leave something for the next decade, right?

Crafting a new story

I'm working on a new story idea, and since a lot of what I read is fantasy, I guess I just assumed that might be a good fit for me. I love my idea, and I think it could make a great book, but I find myself balking at creating this fantasy world. I have so many questions and I don't know how many of them need answers.

If there's magic in your story, is it a given, or do you need to know where the magic comes from?

How do people like Brandon Sanderson create an entire new world from scratch and make it feel so real? How much do I need to know about my world to create that kind of feeling?

What are the conventions of a fantasy that are an absolute must, like how there is usually a boy-meets-girl scene in a romance?

And even though I've done it before, I find myself wondering again how to get from a premise to a full blown plot. I'm trying the Snowflake Method again, by Randy Ingermanson. Premises are easy for me. Plot not so much.

But I'm excited to learn, so here we go again.

Bean Quesadillas

I love good, healthy food. Sometimes I enjoy cooking, especially when I'm trying a new recipe. I also like to experiment. Here is a recipe that takes very little time, it's delicious, easy, and healthy.

Bean Quesadillas

Place corn tortillas on a skillet. Spread with a spoonful of fat free refried beans. Sprinkle with mozarella or other preferred cheese. Either top with another tortilla, or fold in half. Heat and serve.

These are very good dipped in salsa. I'm assuming they'd be good with sour cream and guacamole, too if you wanted to go that route. And I had one at a restaurant the other night that added chicken, cheddar, mexican rice, and tomatoes to the beans, all on a flour tortilla, and that was pretty good, too, so I figure this is a good base that lots of things can be added to if you feel like changing things up.

Change

I'm treating this blog as any rough draft. I keep toying around with it, changing the look, the words, the title. "This Side of Narnia" feels like it captures what I want to blog about: family, faith, and fiction, hopefully without beating anyone over the head with my ideas, which isn't really my style. The other title just felt too blunt. So maybe I'll change the address, too, to match. I don't know. Is that even possible?

Basically with a baby who doesn't sleep through the night, I'm lucky I can put together a nearly coherent sentence. Maybe it wasn't the best time to start a blog, but as I said in an earlier post, writing and blogging keep me sane. So I started, and I will probably keep revising it. Besides, it's fun to change things up.

I wish I could find the same enthusiasm for the novel I've been working on for the last few years. I finally figured out how to fix most of the problems, I got started on a new draft that really feels like it could work, and I can't seem to work up the umph to get back at the draft. I don't know if it's nursing hormones, lack of sleep, or just burnout after years on the same project. I can't seem to focus.

On the positive side of things, I've had fun writing an article that I submitted to the Liahona and the Ensign, which are church magazines. And I started work on a new novel that I'm really excited about, which is fun, working on something fresh for a change. Maybe that's what I need before I go back to finish my other novel. A little change.