yes I was very busy tonight.  I think normal people will get bored reading on about the boring day to day stuff that moms deal with but after writing it I think it works because it sets up what kind of home life Amy has and how she dreams of something different.

Amy’s little alarm clock went off promptly at 7am, which coincidentally was when the sun came up that morning.  Amy hadn’t need an electronic clock in years.  She had four loud persistent ones that kept remarkable time.    She bunched the comforter over her ears,  trying to block Holly’s screaming.  Then she felt an elbow in her side.  She wished it away.  I want to sleep, she screamed in her head.  The elbow again, harder.  No, I won’t!  Then he was shaking her.

“What,” she said, almost screaming.  She opened  one eye and looked over at Daryl.  She felt tears filling in the corners to combat the burning sensation.

“The baby’s crying,” he said, stretching out.

“So?”

Daryl looked over at her, confusion on his face.  “She probably needs a change.”

“I bet she does.”  Amy rolled over making it clear she wasn’t getting up yet.

“Well I’m not changing her.  I worked a double yesterday.  I’m tired.”

Amy sat up straight in the bed, glaring at her husband.  “And you went to bed at eight last night.  You had eleven hours of sleep.  I just went to bed two hours ago.”

“It’s not my fault you stay up all hours watching CSI.”

Amy felt anger filling her as the initial exhaustion lifted.  “I wasn’t watching CSI.  The kids were sick.”

“Oh,” was all he said.  He stretched again and got up.

Amy felt the muscles in the back of her neck tensing already.  What a great way to start the day, she thought.  She rearranged her comforter and pillows, then snuggled back into them.  She heard the boys running down the hall screaming about which cartoon they were going to watch first.  Then Austin stood right outside her bedroom door yelling about not wanting Cheerios for breakfast.  Amy pulled the pillow over her ears.  She wanted to scream.  Scream at the top of her lungs for everyone to shut the hell up.  But she didn’t.  She couldn’t.  In the background she could still hear Holly crying.

She closed her eyes, squeezing them tight, forcing them to make tears to cool the dry burning she felt.  She drifted off to sleep seconds later.  The world where she was free to do as she pleased faded in and out before her.  She was walking along a sunny path.  Sitting on the porch, watching squirrels chase each other.  She wasn’t wiping noses or changing diapers.  Suddenly it was gone and her eyes were open again.  She stared at the clock near the bed--7:10.  Holly was still crying.

Amy sighed and gritted her teeth.  He was probably just in the bathroom.  Everyone needs time to wake up in the morning.  She threw her arm over her eyes and instantly fell back asleep.  No bottles, no tiny socks, no dirty underwear with Barbie or Spongebob or various Disney characters on them.  There was quiet and calm.  There was Holly still screaming.  Amy threw opened one eye enough to see the clock--7:15.  What the hell, she thought.  The whipped the covers off and clumsily got out of bed, tripping on her own slippers and getting tangled in the sheets.

The door slammed against the wall when she yanked it open.  Connor and Austin had been playing in the hall and jumped when Amy came out.  They both looked equally guilty but Amy wasn’t in the mood at the moment.  She stomped down the hall to the girls’ room.  Carys rubbed her eyes and stared blankly at Amy.  Holly stood in her crib, face red and swollen.  Her cheeks were soaked with tears and her little eyes were blood shot and bulging.  She smiled as soon as she saw Amy.

“Come here, sweetie,” Amy whispered to her.  She changed Holly on the bedroom floor and put her in clean dry clothes.  Holly seemed relieved and grateful.  Even more so when Amy made her a bottle in the kitchen.  She carried Holly and the bottle into the living room to find Daryl sprawled out on the sofa, flipping through the channels on the TV.

Amy stood there staring in disbelief.

“Mommy, I’m hungry,” Connor said, pulling on her shirt.  She set the baby down and handed her the bottle.  The urge to scream came back full force but somehow Amy held it in.  She made breakfast for the kids then sat at the kitchen table staring out the window at nothing.  She never knew you could sleep with both eyes open before that.

So, it's like 4 in the morning.  I couldn't wake up all day yesterday.  I slept until 9:30 and by 3pm I was so tired I couldn't keep my eyes open.  I slept until 5.  Now I can't fall back asleep.  Ugh.  Everyone always says to read if you can't sleep.  Ha.  That doesn't work for me.  I started reading at 1030 or so.  I finsihed the whole book at 2:30am but still didn't feel sleepy.  But I did feel like writing.  The first time in weeks.  it isn't great but it is what it is.  enjoy.

So here is Chapter 3

The next morning started with about as much excitement as the day before.  Except it was Austin that woke in the night screaming.  Amy found him sitting in bed covered in throw up.  The smell of half digested Salisbury steak and carrots was enough to send her running for the bathroom herself.  Austin followed her, dripping vomit all the way down the hall.  He got to the bathroom just as Amy finished puking herself and just in time that his next bout went right into the toilet.  After they were both done Amy carefully pulled his stinking shirt from his sticky arms with the tips of her fingers, trying her darndest to not get any on her.  Austin climbed into the tub and she hosed him off with the hand shower.  Afterwards she put a clean pull-up on him and one of his brother’s oversized shirts.  Then she covered a spot on the floor near his bedroom door with old towels, a trick she learned the first time Connor got the stomach flu.  It was much easier to throw dirty towels in the wash then to clean the carpets.

But the throwing up didn’t stop with Austin.  Within twenty minutes Carys was crying, too.  Amy was still trying to pull the covers from Austin’s bed without getting sick again.  Connor rolled and groaned from his bed next to her and she knew it was only a matter of time before he was up.  Amy ran to the girls’ room to help Carys who had vomit dribbling out of her nose.  She held her hands up letting it drip down her arms.

“I toed up,” she said softly.

“I know, sweetie.  Let’s get you cleaned up before you wake Holly.”  Amy swallowed hard, willing herself not to be sick and breathing roughly through her teeth.  That wasn’t working well enough so she  pulled her shirt up over her nose to stifle the smell a little.  She had barely gotten Carys’ nightgown off when Connor screamed from his room.

“MOMMY! MOMMY!”
***

The next three hours sped by in a blur of runs to the bathroom and scrubbing carpets.  The smell of it all had been enough to send Amy back to the bathroom a few times herself.  Every ten minutes Austin and Carys woke groaning, with wide eyed fear of the impending gagging and taste of acid in their mouths.  Five minutes after they were done Connor would wake.  Holly escaped the horrors, waking only once for a mid-night bottle.

When it was finally over and the kids settled into a restful sleep at last she piled the dirty sheets, pajamas and towels into a hamper and set it in the hall for the morning.  She hasn’t planned to be back at the Laundromat so soon.  She had just done the kids’ clothes the week before.  She straightened the clean towels under the boys and covered them both with an old blanket she found in the closet.  She remembered using that blanket as a kid when the family took long road trips in the summer.  The picture of horses running at sunset was faded but the fabric still had the rough, scratchy feeling that Amy had hated all those years ago.  It was all she had.  Connor rolled over and pushed it away from his face but he didn’t wake up.

Amy lifted Carys carefully from the floor in the boys’ room, trying not to wake her.  Her hair smelled of throw up and SoftSoap.  They would all need baths in the morning, she thought.  She laid Carys in her bed, fresh sheets fitted neatly around the edges.  Carys thrashed around on the cold surface until Amy pulled her spare blanket up to her chin.  She grabbed the corner and rubbed it between her fingers, bringing it to her nose as if to smell her own scent.  After a few seconds she seemed satisfied that it was indeed her blanket.  She rolled to her side, knees in her chest, blanket over her face and sighed.  Amy listened to her breath for a minute.  In and out came the soft, shallow breaths of her little girl.  Her soft blond hair peaked out from above the frayed blanket.  Her feet, still in her My Little Pony slippers, stuck out from the other end.  She tucked Holly in one last time hoping she wouldn’t wake.

Amy felt worn, like she hadn’t slept in days.  I haven’t, she thought.  I haven’t slept in weeks, months.  I can’t remember the last time I got to sleep for eight hours straight, she mumbled to herself as she absently straightened the kitchen.  She poured herself a glass of water from the giant five gallon jug in the fridge.  She sipped it, letting the coolness spill down her throat, amazed that she could feel it empty into her stomach.  After the initial sip she grew even more thirsty and gulped the rest down.  She quietly brushed her teeth, desperately trying to get out the taste of last night’s supper.  She caught a glance of herself in the mirror and hardly recognized the old lady staring back at her.  What happened? She thought.  Gone was the shining auburn hair and gleaming brown eyes.  Her hair had turned several shades darker, streaks of gray, growing from her center part.  Her eyes had a dull look of defeat where there used to be a sparkle of hope and anticipation of what her future might bring.  She rubbed at her eyes.  They felt dry and sunken.  Dark circles radiated out from them.  Her lips were cracked and several pimples had popped up over the day.  Amy wondered how many 30 year old women still had acne.  She grimaced as she popped them one by one.  She quickly washed her face with the SoftSoap.  She didn’t look any better but her face at least felt clean.

She climbed back into bed at 4:40am.  Daryl stirred slightly then started snoring.  He grew louder as Amy tried to get comfortable.  She pulled her comforter tight around her neck, covering her exposed ear.  After several minutes of the snoring she couldn’t take it and nudged Daryl.

“What?” he blurted, looking around confused.

“You were snoring,” Amy mumbled back from under the blanket.

“Ugh.”  Daryl rolled over the other way, wrapping his own blanket around him like a little cacoon.  The room was quiet except for the gentle hum of the window fan Amy kept running year round.  She felt sleep pulling on her eyes.  The lids were heavy and it felt as if her eyes were sinking into the sockets with ever breath she took.  Amy slowly relaxed, taking long deep breaths, letting them out slowly.  She felt herself slipping away to a world where she got eight hours of sleep and didn’t spend half her day cleaning up after people.  And then the snoring started again.  Tears immediately sprung to Amy’s eyes.  She was just so tired.  Why don’t I get to sleep? She wondered.

So I finally finished chapter two.  I'm not getting much done here.

“Fine, we’ll have bologna sandwiches,” she said to the room in general.  She gently put Austin down and kissed his head.

“I don’t want bologna,” Connor screamed from the next room.  “I hate bologna.  I hate you!”  With that he slammed his door.  Amy felt like screaming herself.  So far her morning had been miserable.  First Holly had woken her at 4am screaming about nothing.  Amy had run to her, fearing the worst but once she was in the room Holly quit crying and started babbling happily.  She had spent 40 minutes trying to convince Holly to go back to sleep but every time she got near the door Holly started wailing again.  After they almost woke Carys Amy gave up and took her into the living room.  She only managed to stay awake until a little after 5 then reluctantly let her eyes close while she laid on the sofa.  When she woke again the sun was flickering through the cracks in the blinds and Holly was no where to be seen.  In a second panic set in.

Amy had jumped up frantically searching the living room for the baby.  She found Holly curled up under the computer desk, her leg tangled in the cords.  She had quietly and as gently as she could untangled her leg and lifted her out from under the desk.  Holly just smiled sweetly but never opened her eyes.  Amy wondered how long she had been under there.  She didn’t remember her ever crying after they went into the living room and she was sure she would have heard her.  She put Holly back in her crib in the girls’ room and tucked her favorite green flannel blanket around her.  She watched as Holly tried to get comfy on the cold plastic mattress, switching her head from side to side and moving her right arm from next to her body to above her head.  Finally she arched her back and half rolled on her right side.  That seemed to satisfy her because she didn’t move again except to let out a little sigh.

Amy tried to creep down the hall to the bathroom but it was useless.  As soon as the boys heard the floor creak outside their room they were awake.  The day just got more hectic after that.  It was only 6:15 when the boys had caught her on her way to the bathroom.  She tried to distract them from breakfast for an hour but it didn’t work.  So she gave in and poured two bowls of Lucky Charms for them.  Of course, just the act of getting out the bowls started the first argument of the day.  Austin wanted the green bowl, not the blue.  Once Connor saw that Austin was getting the green one he wanted it too.  So Amy got out another green bowl but it wasn’t the right color green, but it was the only green bowl left.  She started the coffee for Daryl and started the dishes.  At 7 she heard Daryl’s alarm clock go off.  He stomped down the hall grumbling about all the noise the kids had been making.

After breakfast Amy had sent the boys off to clean up their room, which meant they were probably coloring on the walls in the living room.  At 7:15 Daryl came out of the bathroom and grabbed his coffee without a word to Amy.  A few tears trickled down her cheeks as she washed the morning bowls from the kids’ cereal.  She long since quit trying to stop the tears.  At 7:30 Daryl came out of the bedroom dressed for work and left after giving the boys a quick hug and waving to Carys.  Amy gave up on the dishes a little after that and had tried to sit and watch the news but it was no use.  Holly chose that moment to start screaming again so Amy got out the bananas and the oatmeal and made up a quick breakfast for her, too.

That was the start of most days for Amy.  By 10 am the boys were bouncing off the walls and wanted to go to the park.  Amy had done the dishes, ran to the basement to put in a load of laundry, folded Daryl’s work clothes, vacuumed the living room and picked up toys from the hall and stairs three times.  It was hot and sticky in the house and she was ready to get out, too so a quick trip to the park seemed like a good idea at the time.  Of course she had chosen a time when “Little Miss Perfect” held court.

Now she stood in the kitchen with two screaming kids surrounding her and a third yelling about how much he hated her and a forth crying in her room and all Amy could think about was going to bed.  Her temples were throbbing and she felt like her left eye was going to pop right out of her head from the pressure.  Connor came out of his room to make sure Amy knew he did not want bologna, because screaming from the other side of the wall wasn’t loud enough.

“THAT IS ENOUGH!” she screamed at the top of her lungs.  The sudden volume increase caught the kids off guard.  Suddenly the room was filled with nothing but the ticking of the clock and the soft hum of the refrigerator kicking on.  Even Holly seemed to understand and was momentarily quiet.  It lasted 2.6 seconds, exactly.  Then Carys let out a cry, followed by Austin and Connor.  “We are having bologna and cheese and if you don’t like it you don’t have to eat it but I’m not making anything else so you better eat it if you are hungry and that is it.  Any objections?”

All three kids shook their heads and Amy slapped a piece of Oscar Meyer bologna on bread for each kid, followed by a nice, neat, individually wrapped, processed slice of cheese.  She topped it all off with a sprinkle of gold fish crackers that covered the sandwich and spilled over onto the plate.  Amy tried to get the dishes done again but wasn’t making much head way on them.  Half the sink was taken up by a frying pan that Daryl had tried to cook some bacon in and was no soaking in some grease cutting dish soap without much effect.  She kept dropping dishes in while she rinsed them causing her to rewash and repeat.  When the kids were done with their sandwiches Amy gave up on the dishes again.

“Let’s go watch a movie,” she suggested instead.

“Yay!” Connor and Austin yelled together.

“Let’s watch Toy Story,” Connor said.

“No, I wanna watch Wittle Mermaid,” Austin countered.

“Mermaids are for girls.”

“Uh-uh.”

“Are to.”

“Are not.”

“Are to.”

“Are--”  (Well you know how this one goes.)

I swear--I never get any writing done when I really want to.  I am really liking the premise of my story and have come up with a bunch of stuff to happen to my main character but I never have time to write.  After I posted the second part of chapter one last week my computer died.  I was without access to it for 3 1/2 days.  I was darn lucky I posted the whole chapter online because my hard drive crashed and I'm not sure I can get any of the stuff off of it.  We bought a new computer but will eventually get the other one fixed.  Then the day after we got the new computer I fell and sprained my ankle really bad which has kept me on the sofa all week.  Sitting at the computer causes all the blood to my ankle--which really hurts.  Then, Wed. was Brenna's 4th birthday and the weather was nice on Thursday so I took the kids out to play (despite my injury).  Not to mention my husband has been working double so I am alone all day with the kids.  Thanksgiving is coming up and we will probably be out of town from Wed-Monday which doesn't leave me much time to write this dang story, lol.

Anyway.  here is what I have of Chapter 2 (written over the last few days).

It took Amy ten minutes to walk the four blocks home.  What was it about puddles that was so attractive to little boys, she wondered about half way home.  She was already feeling down about going off on Flannel Guy and now she felt like all she was doing was yelling at the kids.

“For the last time, Austin, stay out of the puddles!” she yelled again.  But before she even finished the sentence he was ankle deep in yet another puddle.  Amy grabbed him the arm and yanked him out of the water.  “What did I say?” she yelled into his face.  Austin just smiled brightly at her.

“My feet are wet,” he said with a giggle.

“Your butt is going to be sore if you don’t stay out of the water,” Amy told him, pulling him along behind her while trying to push the heavy double stroller with the other hand.  His shoes made a sloshing sound with every step.  Connor followed behind still whining about wanting to play at the park.  It is so nap time, she thought.

Finally they got home.  Connor and Austin threw the back door open and started up the stairs before Amy could even yell at them to take their wet, muddy shoes off.  Amy felt like screaming.  She tried to pick Holly up without waking her up but didn’t succeed.  Holly started wailing as soon as she was in Amy’s arms.  That woke Carys up who also started crying out of confusion.  She grabbed a girl under each arm and tried to pry her wet shoes from her feet without getting her socks wet or dropping a girl without any success.  Ugh, she thought as her foot sunk into the wet carpeting on the stairs.

“Get your wet clothes off and in the bathroom,” she yelled to the boys up above her.  For the millionth time since they moved into the apartment she wondered why the door was downstairs when they lived on the second floor.  The boys were in their room taking off their clothes when she got upstairs so she took the girls into their room and started changing their diapers.  Carys’ pants were soaked from the leaky diaper so she grabbed a new shirt and pants from her drawer.  She spent two minutes trying to cram her chubby legs into the pants thinking Carys had grown an awful lot the last month only to realize she had grabbed a pair of Holly’s pants instead.  She rolled her eyes before finding a pair of Carys pajama bottoms on the floor near her.  She sniffed them and they didn’t smell like pee so she put them on her.

“But I don’t want to go to bed,” Carys cried.

“You don’t have to go to bed,” Amy said as she grabbed Holly before she rolled out the bedroom door and down the stairs.  She quickly changed her diaper and put her in the crib, much to Holly’s dismay.  She started wailing as soon as she hit the cold surface of the vinyl mattress.  Amy had long since stopped putting sheets on the crib.  The kids just pulled them off and got tangled in them and Holly learned the trick much earlier then the other three.  Holly looked up at her with her big puppy dog eyes, tears streaming down her cheeks.  Amy took a deep breath and tried to center herself.

Austin came running in wearing just his Bob the Builder underwear and one wet sock.  “Mommy I have to pee!” he yelled holding himself.

Amy shook her head.  “So go pee.”

“Connor is in the baffroom!” he screamed at her.

“I swear.  Boys can’t do anything themselves.  Like a bunch of babies,” she mumbled under her breath.  “Connor, hurry up so your brother can use the potty.”  She heard the door open so figured the boys could work it out and went downstairs to put the stroller away.  Great, she thought as she got to the bottom of the stairs, it’s starting to rain again.  Like we need more rain.  She stepped on the toe of her wet sock and tried to pull her foot out of it but instead she lost her balance and fell back onto the wet stairs.  Swearing under her breath she tried to manhandle the stroller into the small store room inside the door.  The swiveling front wheels kept catching on the door frame.  Finally, with a shove, the wheel turned and the stroller lunged into store room, knocking over a box of outgrown clothes.  Amy almost lost her balance but caught her self on the door.  She locked the doors after grabbing the mail.  She could hear the boys upstairs laughing and making a racket in the bathroom. 

“I swear to God, if you two are playing in the water,” she called up the stairs as she opened her husband’s Discover Card bill.  The minimum payment made her stomach turn-$150.  There were $400 in new charges on the card, most from online gaming communities and Best Buy.  Daryl was like a big kid.  He spent more money on toys for himself then anything else.

Amy opened the bathroom door expecting to find the bathroom sink overflowing and the boys spitting water at each other but it was much worse.  “What the hell are you doing,” she screamed.

The boys were standing on either side of the toilet peeing at each other.  The toilet and walls were covered in urine.  It was all Amy could do to not grab them by the arms and throw them out the bathroom window.

“He started it,” Connor yelled.

“Not me, him,” Austin countered.

“What is wrong with you too.” she screamed, feeling her control slip away.  “What would possess you to pee on each other?  Get in the tub!”  Amy quickly filled the tub and left the boys happily splashing while she went to find the Clorox cleaner.  Twenty minutes later the boys were in dry clothes and loudly playing in their rooms and Amy was mopping up pee and bath water.    

“Mommy, I hungy,” Carys said as Amy came out of the bathroom.    Amy finished up and rubbed her temples.  Her migraine was getting worse.  The second the boys heard the mention of food them came running out of their room.

“I want pizzey for wunch,” Austin said in his sweet three year old voice.  He batted his long lashes at her.  Amy rolled her eyes.  That boy sure knew how to get to her.

“No, I want peaney butter,” Connor said, pushing his younger brother out of the way so he could use those puppy dog brown eyes on her.

“Connor, don’t talk like a baby.  You are four.  What do you want, Carys?”

“Hmmm.”  Carys put her little finger on her lips, tilting her head to the said as she thought about it.  Amy thought that look from Carys was about the most adorable thing any of her kids did.  But this pose could last forever before Carys made her mind up.  Amy once waited 45 minutes for Carys to decide which socks to wear with her Lavender dress.  There were only two choices--white with purple flowers or plain white with a lacy top.  Carys just couldn’t make up her mind.  She just sat there with her finger on her lips making “hmm” sounds every few seconds.  Finally, Amy couldn’t take it anymore and chose the lacy ones which caused an utter melt down in Carys.  After a temper tantrum that lasted 20 minutes Carys calmed down and chose the lacy white socks because they were “pwittier.”

But Amy didn’t really have time for her to make up her mind on lunch.  The boys were arguing over peanut butter sandwiches and pizza and Holly was wailing in her crib wanting out.  Amy sighed, opening the fridge to see what was available.  There was cheese and bologna in the drawer, leftover mac and cheese from last night and cold Chicken from Sunday.  There was half a bag of pizza rolls in the freezer but that wasn’t enough for all three kids.  There weren’t enough fish sticks, either and Amy sure didn’t feel like making another box of macaroni.  She still had all the dishes from the last two night to do.

“Pizza!”

“Peanut butter!”

“No, PIZZA!”

The boys started shoving each other in the kitchen, then Connor put Austin in a headlock and jumped on top of him.  Austin started screaming and thrashing about, kicking Carys in the leg and almost knocking Amy over as she tried to get across the tiny kitchen.

“Will you two knock it off,” she yelled.  She pulled Connor off his brother by the back of his shirt.  “What is wrong with you, Connor?  You don’t hit your brother.”

“I didn’t hit him.  We were wrestling,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest.  “He likes it.”

“He what?  He sure doesn’t seem to like it.”  Amy let go of Connor who stomped off to his room and picked Austin up off the floor.  He hugged her so tight it almost broke her heart.

“Bubby hurt me,” he mumbled into her neck.  Amy fought back tears and the urge to go scream at Connor some more.

“Mommy, want woney sanwich,” Carys said, pulling on Amy’s shirt, oblivious to the drama surrounding her older brothers.  Amy guessed she was used to Connor and Austin fighting by now and just ignored it.  Amy wished she could ignore it, too.

I had a request to read the rest of the chapter so here it is:

“Higher, Mommy!  Mommy! Mommy!  Mommy higher!”

Amy sighed and turned back to the swings in front of her, positioning herself so that the red slide blocked her view of the royalty across the park.  Connor’s yelling spurred the other three on.  First Austin chimed in with his high pitched “Mama!” then Carys and her squealing joined the chorus.  At least Holly was asleep in her swing.  Amy began her daily dance.  She quickly got Connor going as high as she could then jumped over to Austin, giving him an underdog.  Carys squealed louder indicating she wanted to go higher too.  Just as she got Carys to her preferred height Connor was screaming again for his turn.

At least it is exercise, Amy thought as she sprinted back to Connor’s side of the swing set.  The constant yelling finally woke Holly up who insisted in her own way that she be pushed too.  Amy kept up the dance with all four swings for fifteen long minutes.

“Mommy, push me,” Connor demanded.

Amy panted, trying to catch her breath.  “Mommy needs a break.”

“But I want to go higher.”

“In a second, let me get some water.”  Amy turned towards the stroller only to find a stern looking woman in a pastel sweater and neatly ironed Gloria Vanderbilt jeans.  She stepped around the lady and grabbed her water bottle from the diaper bag hanging from the handle of the stroller.

“Are you done yet?” the lady asked, tapping her foot.

“Excuse me?”

“Are you done with the swings.  We’ve been waiting forever.  Haven’t you ever heard of sharing?”

Amy almost spit her water in the woman’s face.  She looked around the park at the other swing sets.  The one on the other end of the toddler play area was free.  All three seats were empty and there was an empty swing on the other side of the red slide.  What was her problem?

“Umm, actually, we aren’t done.  There are other swings over there,” Amy said through gritted teeth.  She had been planning to leave but now she wanted to stay just to piss this woman off.

“Yes, I see those swings over there.”

“Then what is your problem?”

“They are dirty.  These swings are much cleaner because they are under the canopy.”

Amy knew that. It was the main reason she liked them, too, that and the fact that there were four of them.  “Well we are still using these so I guess you’ll have to go over there or wait.”

“Well,” the lady began in a gentle voice, “Madeleine just got this new outfit and I would rather her not get it dirty.  Why don’t you take your-” she looked past Amy at Connor and Austin with a sneer, “-children over there.  I don’t think you would notice the dirt much.”

Amy’s jaw dropped.  She couldn’t believe this lady.  She wanted to smack her.  “We were here first,” was all she said and turned back to Connor who was whining about needing a push.

The lady grabbed her arm before she could push Connor.  “I only think it fair that you move over there so other kids can use the clean swings, don’t you?”

“No, I don’t.  If you didn’t want your kid getting dirty why did you bring her to a playground that is covered in dirt?”

“How rude!  See, Maddie, this is exactly the kind of person I don’t want you around.  Her little, uh, kids are going to be just as rude as her.  Don’t you ever play with them.”

Amy gritted her teeth as she pushed Connor and then Austin.  By now the lady’s raised voice had caught the attention of the royal court under the maple and Little Miss was heading this way.  Amy took another deep breath and gave Carys a good shove.  At least she’s back in her shirt, she thought.

“Is there a problem over here?” Miss Perfect asked.  Jack was now tucked into a brightly colored cotton wrap, his head resting on her shoulder.  Amy rolled her eyes as she moved on to Holly.

“This girl won’t move.  She is hogging the swings.”

Miss Perfect smiled at the lady then at Amy.  Amy tried to subdue the urge to knock her perfect teeth out of her perfectly lips ticked mouth.

“Well there are some open swings over there,” Miss Perfect said, surprising Amy.

“But those swings are very dirty.  I wouldn’t want Maddie’s cute dress to get dirty.”

“Oh, how adorable,” Miss Perfect agreed.  “Is that from Gymboree?  I was going to get my Amanda that dress but she wanted that pink one with the embroidered flowers on it.”

“Maddie has that one, too.  I went when they had a sale so I only paid $35 for each of them.  Nothing is too good for my princess.”

“I agree.  I would do anything for Amanda or Jack here.”

Both turned to look at Amy as she pushed Connor again.  “It would be easier for you to use those swings over there wouldn’t it?”

“Easier?  How?”  Amy was really getting mad now.  How dare these people.  Holly chose that moment to start crying.  As Connor swung back towards her she grabbed the sides and stopped him.  He let out a howl of disapproval.  She yanked him out making sure to knock all the dirt from his shoes onto the swing.  He screamed as she did the same with Austing, also taking care to stand him in the swing so he could kick the woodchips from his sandals.  Carys had made her own mess in the swing.  Amy sighed as she saw that her diaper had leaked all down the side of her shorts.  She carried her at arms length to the stroller and plopped her into the front seat.  Connor followed her back to the swings yelling about how it was all so unfair.

At the last second she grabbed Holly’s bottle from the stroller and “accidentally” spilled it all over the last swing as she lifted Holly from it.  “Oh, I’m so sorry sweetie.  Mommy spilled your baba.  I know you are hungry.  Mommy will make you a new one lickety split.”  Holly shushed as soon as she popped her binky into her mouth.  Amy held her head high as she cradled Holly, walking right between the two bewildered women.  She laid Holly in the back of the stroller and handed her the rest of the spilled bottle.

“But MOM! It isn’t fair.  I want to swing!” Connor screamed at her.

Amy was at the end of her rope.  “Life isn’t fair sometimes and you’ll just have to learn that.  This woman and her one daughter are obviously more entitled to those swings then we are so deal with it,” she said loudly.  She grabbed Austin’s hand and heaved the stroller through the woodchips.  “Come on Connor,” she called.

She passed by the royal court.  They whispered as she passed and she was sure she heard something about a bottle and how she didn’t care about her kids but Amy didn’t care what they thought.  A guy in a red flannel shirt stood near the blue slides at the entrance to the playground waiting for a little girl to slide down.  He looked away as soon as he realized he was staring.  Amy shook her head and called for Connor one more time.  “You better get over here or I’m leaving without you.”  When Connor didn’t come she strolled out of the gate and started down the sidewalk towards home.  She heard someone gasp from behind her.  She stopped at the water fountain to fill Holly’s bottle.  Connor was hanging at the gate watching her.  Miss Perfect and Super Rude were trying to decide which swing was the least dirty and kept glancing over at her.

By the time she had dumped the formula into the bottle Connor was at the stroller.  Flannel guy and his two girls were heading towards the fountain, too. Now what? Amy wondered.

“Hey,” Flannel Guy said as he lifted one of the girls to the spout.

“Hey,” Amy answered.  She handed Holly the bottle who chugged it right away.

“Can you believe those two?” the guy asked.

“Huh?”

“Adara and that lady.  I can’t believe how rude that lady was, asking you to leave the swings.  And Adara.”

“Oh, is that her name?” Amy said softly.  “She’s a piece of work all right.”

“Yeah.  I was thinking of timing her next time and see just how long she was planning on flashing the whole park.”

Amy snorted.  “Tell me about it.”  She started to push the stroller again.  Flannel Guy pulled the two girls along to catch up.

“I’m Scott, by the way.”  Amy nodded at him but didn’t stop.  “And now is when you tell me your name,” he said following.

“Are you going to stalk me or something?”

He stopped.  “Uh, no.  I was just trying to friendly.  Thought you could use it after those two but I guess not.”  With that he turned and took his girls back towards the parking lot.

Amy sighed.  Why did I go off on him, she thought.  He didn’t do anything to me.  He was only trying to be nice.  “Austin!  Quit splashing in the mud.  I swear boy!”

Well, NaNo is here again.  I can't believe it is November already.  So last night I tried to stay up to start writing but just couldn't, especially knowing I would be up at 6am with Meagan this morning.

So I got up bright and early and sat down at the computer.  Unfortunetly I did no planning before today.  I didn't have an inkling of what I was going to write about this year.  Talk about procrastination.

I'm happy to say, though that a story came to mind while I was at the laundromat this morning.  It is about an average stay at home mom, Amy, and her 4 unruly kids.  Of course a lot will be based off of my life but I'll have to spice it all up a little.

So far Amy has had a major confrontation with "Little Miss Perfect" the queen of the playground and met Scott, the single dad struggling to raise two girls.

Amy has 2 boys and 2 girls.  Connor is 4, Austin is 2 1/2, Carys is 18 months and Holly is 5 months old.

Her husband is distant and uncaring towards her and the kids causing Amy to seek comfort elsewhere.

That is about all I have so far.

here is the beginning of chapter one:

Border Street Park was one of those places that attracted families from all over town.  The playground had ample swings in both styles and for the handicapped too.  It had six slides and three play structures so that the toddlers were separated from the older kids and thus safer.  The ground cover was a perfect twelve inches deep and the playing fields around the park were free from weeds and always immaculate.

Amy Parker hated Border Street.  It was just too perfect for her taste.  The other mothers that the park attracted made her sick.  They came from all over in their shiny new SUVs, dressed in crisp designer jeans and high heeled boots or smart velour jogging suits that didn’t have a hint of sweat on them.  Their children were always impeccably clean and touting Gap sweatshirts and little Adidas sneakers with nary a smudge on their perfect white leather.  It was enough to make any middle class housewife sick.

They sat chatting front and center, babes attached to a boob, without a care in the world.  They never seemed to have to stop mid-sentence to answer the same question a hundred times or to yell at someone to not climb the slide the wrong way.

Amy watched “Little Miss Perfect” hold court at the bench under the shady maple.  She sat perfectly straight, blond curls draping her shoulders.  The little cretin (known as Jack) suckled sweetly on her teet, his blond head pulling away every few seconds to look around.  Her perfect ness never seemed to notice her exposure or attempt to cover up.  When it was evident that Jack was done she lifted him high above her head, her breast dangling from above the brim of her neat white tank top.

“You are a boob monster, aren’t you,” she said bringing his face to hers and kissing up the little bits of milk at the corner of his mouth.  He squealed with glee.  “Yes you are, aren’t you.  You just love Mama’s milk.”  The other mothers nodded approval as she sat Jack on her knee to wipe up a little spit up.

“Seven month now,” she said to her captive audience, “and not a drop of formula.”  She raised her voice as she said formula.  “Not even a bottle of EBM.  It was hard at first.  He nursed every hour it seemed the first two months but I am so glad we stuck it out.  In fact I never thought twice about quitting.  I could never live with myself knowing I didn’t give him my best and best is Mama’s milk, isn’t it?”  She gooed and gawed at Jack again as her friends nodded some more.

Amy felt the urge to vomit suddenly and turned away.  She just couldn’t stand the sight of “Little Miss’s” perfectly round breast or her prefect smile or her perfect baby any more.

So I decided to start working on it.  When you need to write you just have to do it.  This is what I have of chapter one so far.  any input is welcome.

---

Chapter One (no title yet)

The dust settled after the last doughnut was made on the front stretch.  The crowd spilled out towards the end of the stands with a mixture of cheers and mutterings about traffic.  A few die-hard fans down front stayed to cheer on the victor, a wiry, red haired, bright eyed young guy.  They screamed with more enthusiasm then a Friday Night qualifying race required and waved crudely written signs made on poster board as the winner climbed from his car.

Delaney Kaplan sat at the top of the bleachers watching the extravagant reaction from a few awkward looking girls down front.  They couldn’t be more then thirteen or fourteen but they swooned and carried on as the red head pulled himself to a standing position on the window of his less then pristine car.  What’s the big deal? she wondered.  It’s just a qualifier.  The real race isn’t until tomorrow night.

“Come on Del,” her friend, Trevor, said as he pulled on her sleeve.  She slowly got up, still staring at the commotion below her and made her way past crumpled popcorn bags and forgotten, half drank cups of flat soda.  She tried hard not to knock them to the floor below but gave up after a few steps and began kicking them out of the way.  She hoped no one was under the stands.  The cheers of the few people, mostly young girls, that were left drew her attention back to the red headed driver.  He was standing on the roof of the car waving and bowing.  Delaney rolled her eyes.  What a ham, she thought.  Her friends had stopped to watch the spectacle, too and were laughing along with the others as he began hopping up and down on the car like a four year old that was just offered ice cream before dinner.

Then he fell.  In his exuberance he jumped one too many times and the flimsy sheet metal of the roof caved in.  He flailed his arms wildly as he lost his footing.  His wild red hair and the surprised look on his face reminded Delaney of the cartoons she used to watch as a kid.  At the last second he turned and fell flat on his face.  A gasp erupted from his fan club in the front row, followed by and strange silence.  His fans looked at each other in a frantic attempt to allay their fears, but just as quickly as he had fallen he jumped back up and waved at the crowd.  Trevor and the rest of Delaney’s group pointed and laughed, then returned to wading through the mess to the stairs at the end of the row.  Delaney stayed put.  Something about the red headed driver caught her attention.  Maybe it was the bright, wild hair or the cocky grin that crossed his face trying to cover his embarrassment.  Or maybe it was just his true, pure enthusiasm he had on winning a race that meant nothing more then he got to race again the next night.

Delaney marveled at his joy.  He would probably push his car to a trailer in back and drive back to whatever back water town he lived in only to stay up half the night doing repairs so that it would be ready to race on Saturday in the main event.  Delaney realized she was still staring with her mouth open when she noticed the driver watching her.  At least she thought he was watching her.  She looked around in embarrassment and saw her friends waving to her from the stairs.  She hurried along, grabbing a used program from the seat below her.  She glanced back at the stairs and saw that he had started towards the lower exit on the opposite side of the track.  His rubbed his left wrist and Delaney found herself wondering if he had hurt himself falling and considered how that would effect his race tomorrow night.  She started to understand why the girls in the front were so crazed about.  There was just something about him that drew you right in.  He had charisma, even as he walked away injured.  The way he carried himself said, “I’m great, but I’m humble.”  And Delaney liked that.  She decided she would have to come back tomorrow and find out if his wrist would hamper his driving.

Last week sometime I had this very interesting dream about a couple of race car drivers.  After I woke up I continued to think about what had happened in the dream (which was, of course, very vague) and came up with a storyline to go with it.  I had decided I would eventually write it down because I really like the idea.  But then I was reading NASCAR Illustrated the other day and saw an ad for a novel that just came out that is about a woman and a race car driver and thier relationship.  Hmmm.  Dh asked if I was still going to write the story since this lady already wrote one.  Should I do it?  It's not like it would get published.  Of course I should.  What am I saying?  It would be silly to not write it just because someone wrote a book similar to my idea.

I have no idea what her book is really about.  The blurb said it was about a woman that didn't get caught up in his hype.  My idea was to have a young driver fall for some fan he meets just once.  But she has self esteem issues and once he is famous she can't understand why he would still want to be with her which causes problems for them.

to write again and it is a good feeling.  I haven't written anything since December and haven't even wanted to look at what I had wrote.  But the last few days I have actually felt like writing.  I printed off the story I was working on and have started reading it again.  Hopefully I'll have a new chapter finished by the end of the week.

In an effort to actually write more I thoughtI would make a few posts about some random fiction/writing concepts, etc.

I was thinking about this one last night--angst.  I have been reading a website that makes fun of MarySue stories (Harry Potter ones, anyway) and they always talk about how bad the angst is in the story.  I never actually read the stories they post, just the comments.  The stories are usually so God-awful I can barely get through the first paragraph (which can be over a page long, as in our last story).

But, I like angst.  I like to read it and I like to write it.  I think it is fun.  Pretty much every teen romance flick centers around the angst of the main characters.  Will they or won't they.  He cheats and then has to confess, or the opposite way around, etc.  I love the tension, the emotions.  My first fanfic I wrote was 20k words of angst and everyone that read it loved it.  Must just be the couple I wrote about.  You can't write them without the angst.  Their whole relationship centers around it.

So what is everyone else's opinion.  Angst--good or bad?  In moderation? 

I just wrote out this long post about how I haven't been writing lately and when I went to post it I accidently hit CANCEL!  Now I'm ticked.  At myself and at the dang site for having that big cancel button next to the post one.  ARGH!

I don't even remember all that I wrote so I won't try to redo it.  There was just a bunch of rambling about being sick and depressed and pregnant and about my brother.

I'm going to bed.

I heard on the radio the other day (while I spent an hour and a half doing dishes) that it was supposed to snow tonight.  Something like 6-10 inches.  Goody.  But I didn't think too much about it.  Back in Chicago I was used to them saying snow all the time then almost never getting any.

But I decided it was time to prepare anyway.  The kids all needed boots and snow suits and stuff so we went to Wally World and got the girls new snow pants and boots for Owen and Brenna.  I couldn't find any that matched Meagan's winter attire (which is blue).  So they are mostly set.  All have coats and hats and gloves and scarves and snow pants.  Well it is snowing and it is coming down hard and fast.  (can snow come down hard?)

I'm hoping it's enough to cancel school.  There is only a half day tomorrow and it is the PM Kindergarten's turn to go so Meagan has to be at the bus stop at 8am--yuck.  I doubt it though.  I'm not that lucky.

So what does this have to do with writing?  Absolutely nothing, unless you count the fact that I'm writing about it.  I still haven't wrote any more of my story.  I just feel too stressed to concentrate on it.  If I could just get some peace and quiet when I wasn't utterly exhausted.

I'm having a hard time getting the adult half of the story going.  I don't know why, but I'm caring too much what the girls at the fan forum think.  I should write this for me, no?  Or do you write what your audience wants so they will read it?  UGH.  Maybe I need to stop reading the forum for awhile because everyone is just trashing the show and I'm still liking it and feel on the outside.  I don't know anymore.  I'll figure it out and I think it will come down to a mix of both.  I'll give them a little of what they want but try to keep it in the realm of where I want the story to go.  But, then again, if I feel I'm really losing my interest in it, I'll just write whatever the hell I want.

I am not entirely sure I made any sense in that last paragraph.  Do I ever make sense?  I rarely think so.  My own thoughts are so jumbled I wonder how I dress myself in the morning or deal with the kids all day.  I'm hungry.  I just ate dinner at 6pm but I'm starving again.  I think I'll go warm up another hamburger.  The last one was so yummy.

Well, NaNo is over for 2005.  My last word count was my final word count.  I haven't written in weeks.  Life just got to stressfull (as usual).  But I'm not terribly disappointed in my self.  I almost made it to 20,000 words and those were mostly written in a week and a half.  Not too bad.  My main goal was to hit 25, 000 and I probably would have had I not been sick the whole first week or horribly depressed around Thanksgiving.

My Fic is not done yet, though, so the writing continues for me.  I finally wrote chapters 12 and 13 yesterday.  The first wasn't that great but I needed to get back in the groove.  I had no direction.  Well I had a little but I couldn't sort out all the ideas I had floating around.  I'm about to make up an outline for the remaining chapters because I'm getting myself confused.  I rarely use any kind of written down outline for stories but this thing is getting long and complicated with two seperate stories running side by side.

So I had Hyde and Donna talk some more about her problems with Eric, then Hyde got a clue from Jackie that something might be going on that she knows about.  After that Donna finds Eric at a motel and feaks out and runs to Hyde for comfort.  Hyde is no angry at his friend for possibly cheating on Donna.  Nothing was actually said and neither has proof.  It will all work out in the end.

The other chapter with Steve and Kate was more fun to write.  It started out awkward trying to get rid of Betsy.  Steve takes her to the train station and as she's kissing him bye he realizes that he doesn't love her and really isn't feeling the way he used to about her.    Afterwards his first instinct is to call Kate and talk about it but he is now realizing that Kate is his main problem.  He calls her anyway but only talks to Shawn.

Then Kate shows up at his house and the two settle in to watch some TV.  I really liked that part of the chapter, showing how the two are great friends.  I'm still not sure how I will tackle the issue of their age.  It should cause all sorts of problems with their relationship.

Now I'm stuck on where to go from here.  I know where I need to get at the end of the next Hyde chapter (well either the end of 14 or 16--not sure yet) but I'm not sure what I could put inbetween for filler.  The end will be like the climax for their part of the story, bringing everything to a head.  As for Steve and Kate.  I need to add a break-up scene with Betsy and I have a bunch of good scenes to add where Steve is the protector again.  One has to do with Kelly and the other with Kate.  Well the one with Kate will show his true feelings finally, or at least show him admitting them outloud.  Should be good.

If only I could find the right time to write.  It is becoming harder and harder.  The kids are around all the time.  I have been keeping the TV off during the day to keep them out of the living room but it doesn't work.  They keep runing in every few minutes, yelling and screaming.  Then dh gets home and the TV and playstation go on and compete soundwise.  He turns the TV way up and then turns the video game up to hear over the TV (does he really need it that loud to hear little clicks and beeps as he designs a wrestler--obviously he does).  That goes on until at least 10pm or later when he has days off.  So, I'm stuck writing after he is in bed.  I'm usually tired and barely coherent, but I try to get something done.

So I have known for awhile that the word processing program I have been using to write this fic has inflated the word count.  It counts every carriage return (hitting enter to break up paragraphs) as a word.    Don't ask me why.  So I copied all the text into Works and came up with a more accurate count--19,633.

My count was 544 words off.  WTF!!!!!!!!!!

That is such a slap in the face.  Now I have 500 plus words to make up.  ARGH!  And I haven't wrote a word today.  I'm too busy thinking about Thanksgiving and missing puzzle pieces (to the kids' puzzles) and buying new shoes for my oldest and yadda yadda.

I need a goal. 

Write 544 words before dh gets home from work at 7pm tonight.  That is my goal.

This is  me laughing at my new goal.

Well I guess my little break turned into a long break.  I finally finished chapter 11 last night after not writing anything for like a week.  I just lost all interest in it.  Damn depression zapping me of everything.  But I got it done and now have to work on 12.  I'm only up to 20,000 words or so.  There is no way I will hit 50,000 by the end of the month but that's okay.  I said at the beginning I would be happy if I made it past 25,000 and that is a given right now.  Just a couple of chapters will get me past that.

I have no clue what I'm doing for chapter 12 but I have a great story line in my head for Kate and Steve but I think I will save it and make a part 3 to the story that will focus mainly on Steve.  I think I know where I'm going with Hyde and my idea involved Donna right now.  I'm sure people will freak when everything starts to unfold because I have gotten many reviews begging me not to break Donna and Eric up.  But everything should work out okay in the end. 

I'm hoping to get some more writing done this week, even with Thanksgiving coming.  Dh has to work on Thursday so I don't have to cook until Friday.  I've got everything bought and ready to go.  Sweet potatoes and green bean casserole are both going in the slow cooker on Thursday.  Lucky I have a divided insert or that wouldn't be very appetizing.  I'll probably make the pumpkin pies and apple crisp on Wed. and then late Thursday or early Friday I'll stuff the turkey breast and put that in the slow cooker.  We did this the last two years and I have never tasted such juicy tender turkey before.  I'm drooling just thinking about it.

Or maybe that's because I haven't ate anything today.  I did get the kitchen mopped and the stove cleaned.  I really need to get the oven cleaned because I need to bake without the kitchen filling with smoke and setting off all the smoke detectors.  Well back to writing.