Unamused

Yesterday, I had one of those days that lulls you into thinking that, despite bone-chilling temperatures, you are going to be just fine. The kids woke up with smiles and we made it through the morning routine with little nagging and we headed out into the subzero temperatures but were properly dressed and I actually thought, "It is just not that bad!"

And then something happened. I'm not sure exactly what - maybe I looked at the extended forecast or maybe my shoulder started itching or something.

All I know is that my mood plummeted and I could not seem to recover.

My lunch was horrible (tepid leftover tortellini that I ate while standing at the kitchen counter).

I ate a brownie (which was delicious but I had promised myself I wouldn't have any more brownies so obviously I am a horrible person for giving it to such temptation).

The phone rang and I answered because it was a local number and I was worried it was school but it was actually a robo call that started, "Dear Senior Citizen..."

I then sat on the couch vacillating between feeling lonely and missing Luisa terribly and feeling irrationally angry that she was in the Bahamas and could probably feel all of her toes.

And then I got my period.

After going back out into the tundra to pick up the kids, I started dinner and then texted Luisa to inform her that my day sucked and that I wanted a glass of wine but couldn't have one because I had to go BACK OUT INTO THE COLD to take the kids to the school play and GRRRRR and WHINE and UGH and, in texting with Luisa (and Esther and Deborah - all the wives!), I realized that I was also mad at myself for being so crabby. Why? Because I quit my soul-sucking job and am living my dream dammit! I should be happy all the time! But who can really be happy all the time? Labradoodles maybe but they don't seem that bright.

My mother would have told me to "suck it up" and "get over it" so I tried. I made dinner and I took the kids to the play and I laughed and I came home and got the kids in bed and cleaned up the kitchen and got coffee ready and went to bed.

This morning, I woke up in a tentative peace with life and I tried not to grind my teeth to dust when I saw that the air temperature was -14. Being able to feel your toes all the time is overrated, right? Then, I had to scrape the windshield and, in that brief time, Miguel and Zeca got into a brawl in the back seat of the car and, as I watched it unfold through the car window, I thought, "Here we go again. Another day like yesterday." So, I got in the car and growled at the kids and Zeca tried to explain why she knocked Miguel's head into the window (he breathed on her) and he tried to explain why he whacked her in the head (because of the window thing) and then I said "I DON'T WANT TO HEAR IT" and it was quiet which was nice because I wanted to be able to seethe in peace.

But then Miguel began singing the National Anthem in a Chipmunk voice and I started to laugh. And then he started singing the National Anthem as Beyonce and Zeca joined in and they did the most hilarious vocal runs and then I joined in and we all sang as Beyonce and, by the time I dropped them off at school, we were all laughing.

And now I am curled up on the couch under a wool blanket and Momo is on my lap and the day feels pretty good. The morning was one of those reminders that my kids are often a great source of stress with all the energy they require but they are also the best damn things to have happened to me.

What would my day have been like without two little Beyonces and the rockets red glare?

For a less grumpy post, check out my post at Lesbian Family this week: If You Give a Kid a Muffin...

Leaving Foreword And Moving Forward

In December, as part of one of my last assignments for the Foreword Program at The Loft, I had to complete an overview of my project. I was scared to do it because I already knew that I had not accomplished as much as I had hoped and wanted to avoid concrete disappointment for as long as possible. I procrastinated.

I chose the latest possible deadline to submit my summary.

I blogged and vlogged.

I sat on the couch chewing on ice and reading celebrity gossip.

But, eventually, I had to sit down and write the overview.

I spread out the printed essays drafts on my bedroom floor and pulled up drafts that had not yet been printed on the computer. I cracked open the journal I kept during my 2 years at The Loft and I began to put it all together.

I expected to feel discouraged but was inspired instead. I had written more than I realized and I could actually see my book taking shape. By the end of the process, I had a tentative title and a list of chapters and a clear idea of what still needed to be written. Even though there is still material to be drafted, for the first time, my book felt real.

My time in the Foreword Program ends this week and I will be saying goodbye to my mentor, Cheri Register, who taught me so very much. I will forever be thankful to her for taking me, a humble blogger, and turning me into an essayist. The program will formally end for me on February 15th when I participate in a reading of my work at The Loft.

Now, I move forward on my own and will be actively working to draft the last 6 pieces of this collection. I will have to set my own deadlines which has never been my strong suit but now that I can see where I'm going, I'm hopeful I'll get there.

I mention this partly to explain my recent absence from Up Popped A Fox. When I'm not blogging here, it's safe to assume that I'm working on the book...or drinking espresso. But mostly, working on the book.

I hope to get back in the blogging frame of mind but if there is nothing new here, you can always catch me on Lesbian Family and Aiming Low.

And now...I think it's time for some espresso.

The Year of the Fox

I've been seeing foxes everywhere - stuffed foxes, fox mugs, fox pajamas. Each time, I stop and marvel a bit before snapping a picture. At first, the abundance of foxes made me feel like I was a trendsetter, like maybe I should sing Barbara Mandrell's classic country song, "I Was Country (When Country Wasn't Cool)" but change all the words to something fox-related. Now, I'm starting to take it as a sign.

This seems to be the Year of the Fox.

When I typed that as the title of this post, I did a little google search and found some weird Canadian zodiac site that had years associated with animals much like the Chinese zodiac. While the Chinese zodiac doesn't have a fox, the knock-off Canadian one does and I read the following:

People born in the Year of the Fox are the erratic geniuses of the cycle. Clever, skillful, and flexible, they are remarkably inventive and original and can solve the most difficult problems with ease. There are few fields in which Fox people wouldn't be successful but they have a disconcerting habit of being too agreeable. They want to do things now, and if they cannot get started immediately, they become discouraged and sometimes leave their projects.

That sounds just like me in many ways and then I looked at the years associated with the sly fox and lo - there it was...1968, my year.

I take back all the snarky things I've said about Canadians (hey there, Susan - I'm thinking aboot you) - Canadians obviously get me.

So, yes, I am going to proceed as if this is the Year of the Fox - my year. It's time to face my fears and start putting all of my energy into making dreams reality.

In that spirit, I am excited to share some news with all of you.

First, Listen To Your Mother Twin Cities has a venue and a date - our show will take place on the evening of May 9th at the Riverview Theater! An announcement regarding submissions and auditions will be coming soon so keep checking our website for information.

On a more personal note, I was selected for a Beyond the Pure Fellowship for 2013. When I submitted my application, I needed a goal and mine was to finish and pitch my collection of essays. So, I guess I'm going to have to finish it, huh? In December, as part of my work at the Loft, I had to complete an overview of my book and it was scary and exciting all at once because I see it now. It has a title and 17 chapters and I know all that has been written and what has to be finished and it's there, right within my reach.

It's the Year of the Fox. Take note, 2013 - I'm coming for you.