Changes, Changes

Being a mother means that your heart is no longer yours; it wanders wherever your children do. ~Author Unknown

Early in my journalism career, I moved around — a lot. Always seeking the”perfect” job where the work was challenging, coworkers friendly, and climate ideal.

I wasn’t alone. Many of us were gypsies at heart, yet I never considered how hard that must have been on my parents.

Now I’m the mom, and I know moms never really relax until their kids are settled.

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From Student to Employee

I think I alluded to this in my last post, but now that graduation is over, now that we’re back from our miserable trip abroad, the BIG item on the To-Do List for my son and me is getting him relocated.

Out of state.

Far out of state.

For his new job.

Not a part time internship.

A real JOB.

With a paycheck. And benefits. And bills.

Because My Favorite Domer is entering the World of the Employed.

Woo-Hoo, can you see me doing the Happy Dance?!

What is it they say, Parenting is the only job that, once you get really really good at it, you’re unemployed.

Maybe, but I believe I’m a long was from that.

Anyway, relocation means work. Lots of work.

And expenses. Mucho expenses.

  • Like an apartment.
  • And stuff to go into the apartment — furniture, towels, cooking items, food.
  • And a car, since he didn’t have one at college, by his own choice.
  • And insurance.
  • And a new cell phone (because his is woefully outdated, has an annoying proclivity to shut down willy-nilly, has buttons in the wrong places, and won’t keep a charge).
  • And a laptop (because the battery on his overheats, shutting down the entire system without warning).
  • And working people clothes (as opposed to T-shirts, jeans, and sneakers).

It’s exciting to be sharing this time in his life. And I’m ever-so-grateful that he’s found gainful employment (and doesn’t have to hang around here being bored).

So don’t ask me if I’m working on my novel.

With this much on my mind, I’m doing good just to keep up with this blog!

And it’s okay. Really.

As my late dad used to say, “Rome wasn’t built in a day.”

Nor is a novel.

When LIFE interferes with your writing, you have two options:

  1. Rail against it, squeeze out time to write when you can, then throw it all out when you realize it sucks, and rail some more at the injustice of it all, or
  2. Roll with the punches, write when you can, and don’t sweat it when you can’t.

I’m trying the second route. I’ve tried the first one before, and it doesn’t work.

Too much angst.

Rolling with the punches feels better.

I like to think my novel is percolating, that I’m letting the creative juices simmer while I tend to everyday things.

And besides, I’d boxed myself into a terrible corner, one I can only hope time will help me resolve!

But I’m putting my Muse on notice — I’ll be back.