It's that time of year again...

Okay, so Mate is having an early practice today-- and it's 102 degrees already, creeping on up to 105 (which is the league cut-off for impossibly hot) and I'm thinking about just staying home with the girls in the air conditioning and getting some work done.  I feel like a weenie for even thinking about it-- I mean, I've done harder/more painful/worse, right?


And suddenly, I'm flashing back six years, to when I started this blog, and I'm a little blown away.  Yeah I've done harder/more painful/worse-- and damn.  I'm surprised I survived.

So, want a trip in the way-back machine with me--feel free to take your own on your own blogs if you like, because sometimes, with a blog to help you remember, the way-back machine is a trip.

Then:


I started the blog because there was too much stuff in my head to be clammed up, and I needed to let it out.  Two people followed me.  One of them was Roxie:-)

Now:


I continue to blog because a whole lot of friends and fans tell me that my blog makes them laugh.  One of them is still Roxie:-)

Then:


I called my children Ladybug, The Cave Troll, Chicken, and Big T.

Now: 


I call my children Squish, Zoomboy, Chicken, and Big T.

Then: 


I was grieving because I had to leave Ladybug (nee Squish) in day care with Cave Troll all day, because I worked full time.  I also had two other kids at Junior High.  This would peak for about three years when I had four kids and three to four different daytime destinations.  It would suck.

Now:  


I have two children who have graduated from high school and who have or will have their own transportation, and two children who attend the same school for the same hours.

Then:  


I was breastfeeding.

Now:


As Goddess is my witness, my boobs are property of Mate's and shall be forever more.

Then: 


Big T was still in speech therapy, and we hoped he could be mainstreamed in the high school classroom.

Now:


My full grown son is attending Junior College, and he graduated with honors.





Then:


Chicken had just been cut from rec league soccer, causing me to coin the term "vainglorious prickweenie" to apply directly to her douche-waffle coach as well as my asinine principal who wanted to fire me but didn't know how.  (Ironic that he had the means, he was just too contemptuous of everything I was to investigate it further.  Asshole. Seriously. I can't think of a word nasty enough to call him.  I'll just have to let "vainglorious prickweenie" live forever in his memory.)  Anyway-- Chicken was depressed and emo, and we never saw her smile.  I worried about her for the next three years, and yearned for my beautiful daughter to see herself as I did.

Now:

Then:


I had published two books of my own and was working on finishing and self-publishing the third.  I was hoping to break into mainstream publishing, and cherishing (or recovering from) each and every painfully earned review/remark/hint/mention that I could scavenge from the internet.

Now


I have self-published six full-length novels and have and thirty-five or so (hard to count) novels and novellas published by actual companies.  I have learned to (mostly) ignore the bad reviews and if I can't?  I know which friends I can whine on (Julie!  Looking at you!) and which friends will pat me on the head and say, "Now, you know better than to read those things!" (still looking at Julie!) and I'm grateful.

Then: 


I said anything I wanted, ranted whatever was in my heart at the time, and damned the consequences.

Now:


I've learned that the consequences are painful, and that if I'm to live in the human world, I need to keep a rein on my temper and my (often VERY) opinionated nature.  I've learned more about self-restraint in an environment that claims not to have any than I ever learned when people were telling me I was too weird or too wrong and needed to keep my damned mouth shut.  I've learned that people's feelings are important, and I've learned to respect differences of opinion.  I'm not perfect, but I have become far more adept at self-editing, and saying things I want kept personal ONLY to those people I want to be personal with, and about not alienating the entire frickin' world in my rage.  In short, I've become slightly closer to being a grown-up.  It was painful, but it was totally worth it.


Then:


I was fighting every day to maintain my faith in my painful job and dreaming of the worlds enough and time I would have if only I could write full time!

Now:


My job and I have had enough of each other, thank you very much, and if it was painful in the extreme, it was also instructive as well.  And now that I am living the realities of writing full time, it is also difficult and also just as day-to-day a pain in the ass as my other job was.  But it's also every bit the dream come true I always hoped for, and I am extremely blessed.

Then:  


Mate was my north star, my guide, my anchor, my beloved, the best choice I ever made when I was too young and stupid to know better, the best choice I continued to make even when I got older and could figure shit out.

Now:  
Mate is my north star, my guide, my anchor, my beloved, the best choice I ever made when I was too young and stupid to know better, the best choice I continue to make even as I get older and can figure all sorts of shit out.

So that's my trip in the way-back machine-- it was a short one, because I still don't live the life of leisure I thought I would, and two busy small children is still two busy small children.  But maybe I can tough it out through 105 degree heat to watch my boy have some fun, and watch his father be awesome and amazing.  If nothing else, the last six years have proved that you can underestimate how fast they'll grow.