Kids say the darndest things

"I don't know what I want to do with my life."

-- Ryan Swanson, age 4

That's right. Last night, as I was tucking Ryan in to bed, he uttered some gems.

First, his big brother snuck in to his room. It was Carl's night to tuck Alex in, and apparently they had wrapped up a bit before Ryan and I. So Alex came to see what was happening, and then asked me to check on him before I went downstairs.



After Alex left, Ryan asked thoughtfully, "Are you going to see Alex in a minute?" I answered yes. He thought about this for a few moments.

Then, "I'm going to need a bit of attention spent on me." Color me speechless. I reassured him I would spend a bit of attention on him.

And then ...

Ryan: "I don't know what I want to do with my life."

Mommy: "Well... you are *only* four. We've got a few years to figure this out."

Ryan: "I just want to be a baby. No one knows how to make me a baby."

Mommy: "You'll always be my baby."

Ryan: "A little baby."

Mommy:  "Honey, you're four years old now. My little giant. You're never going to be a little baby again."

Ryan: "Why not? I just want to be a little baby!!"

At which point I tried to change the subject, because what deep psychological thing is going on here that my youngest is worrying about his future, and his strong desire to be a little baby? I'm totally over my head here.

The Force of July

Over the 4th of July weekend, we went to Houston.

First stop was at the Burger King in Brenham, to stock up on Eclipse-themed goodies. I'm not sure how appropriate it is for the BK Happy Meals to come with little Twilight toys, but this Twi-Mom isn't complaining.

Mom let the boys play with their uncle's old Dungeons and Dragons. Team Danger was in awe.

 Saturday, we headed out to NASA. This summer they have a new Star Wars exhibit - one geared around the Clone Wars. And to celebrate "the Force of July," there were several special events happening this weekend, like Padawan Boot Camp.

After the crowds greeting us last 4th of July weekend, we made sure we were there pretty close to opening time. Good call. Not only were the lines markedly shorter, but we had front row seats for the Padawan Boot Camp.

Obi-"Shawn" Kenobi and some other Jedi Knights helped train the young padawans in the ways of the force. Unlike the actual Jedi Knight Training at Disneyland, where there were Jedi Robes for the kids to wear, and real "fake" toy lightsabers given to the chosen ones, at NASA, I had to buy inflatable light sabers for $5 each. I've bought these before. They don't last long. So I wasn't particularly happy forking over another $10 on two soon to be destroyed lightsabers for a "free" event, but was there really an option not to? Um, no. Note to any other parents thinking of going: BRING YOUR OWN LIGHTSABER. Bonus points if you bring your own lighted lightsaber.

Darth Maul made an appearance to fight Obi-Shawn as part of the padawans training, but he didn't fight any of the children. Team Danger was bummed. He did, however, pose for photos.

As did Obi-Shawn.

They also made their own balloon light sabers. This seemed cooler than the pool noodle light sabers we did for Alex's party last year. If I ever have to do another Star Wars themed party- we're doing this. Just download the "controls," let the kids cut and color them, and then tape them to a  long balloon. Perfect. And safe. And even cheaper than my pool noodles.

The weather was holding nicely, so we decided to head to Galveston, seeing as we were almost there anyway. It was past lunch time, though, so we stopped for lunch at The Spot before heading to the beach. Alas, Tropical Storm Alex (nee Hurricane Alex), decided to make his appearance midway through our lunch and it started pouring.

We ate cookies. Key lime pie. Ice cream. Watched Spain defeat Paraguay in the World Cup. Bought balloon swords from a clown. Anything to give Alex a chance to pass us by and let us go outside and play, but he only got stronger and stronger. We left The Spot, drove around and looked at the Victorian houses, and the shipyard (Carl was driving, and I couldn't stop him. He finds odd things interesting.). Still, Alex continued. Finally, we gave up on our beach visit and headed back towards Houston. Another time, Galveston.

The drive home was rainy, and filled with lightsaber battles.

Dinner was at Gringos, and I ordered the Red, White and Blue margarita. One of the downsides to Alex reading is that he can read menus now. So he was pretty excited to see the words, "Kraft Macaroni and Cheese." It pains me to spend $4.99 on a Kids Meal of Kraft M&C, when I can buy the box for one dollar and get 3 or 4 servings out of it. Alex ate all of his, and then some of Ryan's, and then he sits back from the table, rubs his stomach, and says, "Does Mexican macaroni make your tummy feel bad?"

Sunday, we went to the movies. Some of us saw Toy Story 3, some of us saw Eclipse. Repeat viewings, but certain movies *need* repeat viewings. Possibly several repeat viewings.

I'm not sure, do we think Alex has outgrown this Hot Wheel yet? 

Mom cooked a delicious brisket for the 4th, and my little chef, Ryan, baked some American cupcakes for the occasion.

After eating, we went over to Cheryl's house to swim and cool off, and then, finally set off fireworks. Cheryl and Glenn live outside Houston City limits, in an unincorporated area of Harris County, so amazingly, fireworks are legal. Everyone brings their chairs outside and just sets them off in the street. We had pretty tame ones - sparklers, tanks, bumblebees. But other folks had intense fireworks. At one point, Carl grumbled, "If I'd known there was a competition, I would have spent a bit more."

Next year, we'll be ready.

Brotherly Love

Last Thursday, we ate dinner at the Macaroni Grill. Alex and Ryan always love this place, since they get to draw all over the table.

Ryan spent most of the evening practicing writing his name, as well as Alex's name.

Yesterday, he came home with a very special picture he drew, just for Alex.

He even wrote "ALEX" on it, all from memory.

Its a spaceship, in case you were wondering.

Is everyone writing a book but me?

When I was younger, I wanted to be Atticus Finch more than anything in life. But running a close second to my desire to be a lawyer, was my desire to be a writer. I wanted to write my own Sweet Valley High series for young adults. I used to write all the time - in my journals, short stories, and even some longer short stories. Of course most of what I did write was on a word processor on a disk that would never be recognized by today's computers, but I still have that box of big old floppys in the attic.

Somewhere along the road of life, I stopped writing. I haven't even been keeping a journal since the kids were born. I still visit the box of floppy discs from time to time, though. Does that count?

Alas, thanks to the magic of the Internet - and Facebook - it seems that almost everyone I know, though, is still writing. And not just writing. Actually publishing.

At first, the only actual writer I thought I knew was Judge McKee who was writing novels as a sideline hobby under the pen name of Evelyn Palfrey.

 

I totally wanted to be her when I grew up, judge by day, romance novelist by night.

But in the last three years, ie, since I became more internet savvy and joined Facebook, it turns out that everyone BUT me has been writing.

First, it was Philippa Ashley, with Decent Exposure. Closely followed by Wish You Were Here, Just Say Yes, and It Should Have Been Me. Phillipa was lucky enough to have Decent Exposure optioned by Lifetime, who turned it into the 12 Men of Christmas, starring Kristin Chenowith and Josh Hopkins, and now its being republished under the name of  Dating Mr. December, along with a pretty hot new cover.

 

And Rosy Thornton, another lawyer turned writer, published More than Love Letters. Then Hearts and Minds, Crossed Wires. Her 4th novel, The Tapestry of Love, is released this week, with a truly beautiful cover.

Juliet Archer wrote The Importance of Being Emma, and is working on getting her other Jane Austen modernizations published.

Elizabeth Hanbury has published The Paradise Will, Ice Angel, and a collection of her short stories, Midsummer Eve at Rookery End.

Georgia "Tink" Hill pubished Pursued by Love.

My childhood crib mate, Trey Moore, published his poetry last year.

An old high school friend, Mike Jones, has written several screenplays. His most recent one, an adaptation of The Minotaur Takes a Cigarette Break,  has a huge director attached to it, John Stevenson, who co-directed Kung Fu Panda.

Even my mom's neighbor's son, Mark Fadden, has published a legal thriller called The Brink.

And in June, Elizabth Ashworth's first fiction book, The de Lacy Inheritance, was finally published in the UK and will be released in September here in the US.

There are probably more friends out there who are having success as a writer, these folks just came to the top of my head as living out my dream life.

So as I placed my order for Rosy's new book, and Mark's book today, I couldn't help but wonder... why aren't I writing? Pretty much everyone else seems to have other full-time, real life jobs. And families. So why can't I find the time to write anymore? Looking at Rosy's new cover as I hit "Order Now," I wanted to move to France for the summer, and live the gite life with the family. Carl could telecommute. I would write (since I'm not a lawyer in this fantasy, I can just leave home for the summer and not think twice about silly things like vacation days). We'd ride our bicycles all around the south of France, shopping at little markets every few days, and eat fabulously wonderful meals and drink amazing wines every night outside, at a beautifully decorated Provencial table with sunflowers we picked from the sunflower fields which inpsired Van Gogh.

All this, could be mine, right? If I could just somehow find the time (and, more importantly, the long-dormant desire) to write again.

Ah, to dream.