The Milestones of Childhood

According to Parents Magazine, there are certain “overlooked” milestones of childhood. These include blowing raspberries, learning to play peekaboo, babbling, and so on.

I contend that there are other milestones that will never make it into a parenting magazine. These are my top four milestones, from my darling babies.

4: The day my son learned to remove all of his clothing. At night, I’d tuck him in and when I went to check on him, every stitch of his clothes (including his diaper) were off. We termed this the Naked Boy stage. (It later led to the toilet training phase.)

3. The day my kids understood the glory of chocolate. The noises emitted from their toddler mouths was nothing short of hosannas and praise. The pictures were pretty funny, too.

2. My daughter learned at the tender age of six months that spontaneously crying (when we were out of the room), pointing to her brother, and behaving as though she had just been the victim of violence earned her extra hugs and kisses…and got her innocent brother into major trouble.

1. The day my boy let out an enormous toot, raised his hands in the air, and yelled, “TOUCHDOWN!”

What was one of your favorite milestones?

Childhood Traditions

Tonight we’re keeping our son up past his bedtime for something special. We’re going to go out into the backyard and collect fireflies. I even have a Mason jar to collect them. (Yes, we do release them later.)

He’s three years old, and as far as I know, he’s never seen a firefly. I wonder what his reaction will be? That’s one of the best aspects of being a parent–seeing old traditions for the first time through the eyes of a child. This year was the first year he really understood about Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny. We would tease him if a rabbit hopped into our yard and say, “Look! It’s the Easter Bunny!” Our son would squeal, “Oh, yes! You’re right! There he goes!”, his face lighting up with excitement. He’s convinced that Bambi comes out of the woods at twilight to feast upon the grass right outside the military base.

Each day is new for him. It’s always fun to hear him pick up conversational bits from my husband or myself like, “He’s a bad driver. He needs to pay more attention to the road.”

My favorite one, by far, was today’s quote. He trotted over to my husband, looked him in the eye and said, “I need a book contract.”

That’s my boy.

Blog Party!

The RWA National Conference is coming closer! I know many of my blog friends are planning to attend. I would love to meet those of you attending in person! (There was a sale on exclamation points!) If you are going, what if we try to get together during the Welcome reception on Thursday night? Perhaps we could all meet at a certain corner of the room and then we could mingle and chat? How about this–As you enter the room, go to the left corner in the back. Sound like a plan? Who’s going?

In other news, I’m reaching the three-quarter mark on my Victorian book. I know I should probably be finishing an Irish medieval, but that will be next on my list. I already have the proposal ready to go. But this Victorian book needs to be written. Ever have one of those? It just grabs you by the throat and won’t let go. Some people call it the book of your heart. I consider it more like exorcism. I have to let the story out or I’ll go crazy. So, I’ll finish it and see where the chips fly.

A sale for Amy!

I just love wonderful news. Everybody go and congratulate Amy Knupp on her sale to Superromance. Let’s hope it generates a whole bunch of first sales!

(She needs to send one my way from Mills & Boon Historicals–hint, hint!).

Go, Amy!
:crazyjumping:

The Beast Within

Normally I don’t read category romance because I like big, juicy historicals with hunky muscled heroes and feisty heroines. But I did pick up The Beast Within by Suzanne McMinn the other day, and if you’re looking for a fast-paced, suspenseful and emotional read, check this one out!

One of the things I love about Suzanne’s books is the evocative prose. The language captures the emotional tone of the story. She really engages your senses and you’re not only enjoying the characters, but you feel like you’re there. In one of the opening scenes of Beast, she describes the setting of Callula Island, the hiding place of the hero.

“It was a strange, almost post-apocalyptic atmosphere of slash pine growth born of the disruptive force of fire and hurricanes that occasionally recreated the barrier island habitat. Shade-tolerant hardwood reached up within the pines, slowly taking over the swampy wood with hauntingly romantic palmettos and live oaks strung with creeper vines and Spanish moss.

The maritime jungle was so thick, the canopy of leaves cloaked the sky, and it was preternaturally shadowed, a world of endless twilight and unknowable sounds. Paige carefully hiked a grid pattern through the woods, mindful of the approaching weather…and the eerie sensation of being watched”

When I read writing like this, it takes me out of the everyday world of mopping floors and children screaming, “Mommy, watch me!” I can slip into a world of a hunky hero with super abilities and his haunted dream of reuniting with his estranged wife. It’s not just a fun, suspenseful book–it’s quality writing, and I appreciate that.

And yes, I had to grab my dictionary and look up preternaturally. I should have paid more attention in English class to those pesky vocabulary words. :loser: One of the things I love is the perfect descriptive word. It’s why I now have a thesaurus chained to my side whenever I write.

Sports for kids

It’s starting already. Now that my son has turned three, I look through the county activities and see things like T-ball for preschoolers. Soccer for preschoolers. Swimming lessons. And I think of how I was never involved any any team sports, except during P.E. Yep, I was always chosen last on teams. :loser: I hated it. I didn’t think I was that bad, really, just inexperienced.

Because of this, I feel the deep, urge to enroll my son in sports. Lots of them. I want him to be the athlete every kid wants on his team. I want him to be the kid who makes the home run, the kid who scores the soccer goal. I want him to be what I couldn’t be.

Instead, I can tell already that he’s inherited my genes. My darling boy can’t catch a ball to save his life. When running to kick a soccer ball, he trips over his own feet. My heart goes out to him, and again, that’s why I’m lured to the sports, thinking–if I start him now, he’ll get better by the time he’s in elementary school. Remediation! Quick, get the boy in a soccer class, stat!

Yes. I am being tempted by the Dark Side. :starwars: The power of the Soccer Moms. Must. Fight. The. Urge. To. Enroll. Him. Gaaaahh!!

He needs to just be a kid, to relax and enjoy his childhood. I know this. But at the same time, I have the urge to see him in one of those cute little uniforms as he bites his tongue and swings a bat at the ball.

Someone stop me before the madness begins!

Fireworks in the Household

When I was a kid, my parents told me to never set off a firecracker or it would blow my arm off. True. It happened to a boy they knew.

As a result, when my neighbor offered me a sparkler, I was convinced I would go up like a torch. No way was I touching that thing.

Now, as an adult, I’m still wary of fireworks. I’ve never bought any from a stand. Something about purchasing items that could potentially harm you doesn’t seem right.

I often wonder how fireworks became a tradition on the Fourth of July. Did one of the early forefathers say, “Gosh, George. Let’s celebrate this new country of ours and blow stuff up! It’ll be cool! Maybe we can get Thomas to light up one of those spare cannons and he’ll explode right in front of us!”

Who knows. But I know it was a tradition definitely created by men. Men love danger. They love fire and explosives and the element of–what if I blow my arm off? Women? If it were up to us, we’d probably celebrate the Fourth of July by waving our American Flags, enjoying chocolate without any guilt, and lazing around while the grandparents spoil the kids rotten. That’s my idea of a good holiday. Oh, and let someone else do the dishes.

If you could celebrate a holiday any way you wanted, what would you do?

Deep Thoughts

I used to love Deep Thoughts by Jack Handy on Saturday Night Live. Here are a few fun ones I thought I’d share:

I hope if dogs ever take over the world, and they chose a king, they don’t just go by size, because I bet there are some Chihuahuas with some good ideas.

When you go in for a job interview, I think a good thing to ask is if they ever press charges.

If you were a poor Indian with no weapons, and a bunch of conquistadors came up to you and asked where the gold was, I don’t think it would be a good idea to say, “I swallowed it. So sue me.”

When you’re riding in a time machine way far into the future, don’t stick your elbow out the window, or it’ll turn into a fossil.

Many people think that history is a dull subject. Dull? Is it “dull” that Jesse James once got bitten on the forehead by an ant, and at first it didn’t seem like anything, but then the bite got worse and worse, so he went to a doctor in town, and the secretary told him to wait, so he sat down and waited, and waited, and waited, and waited, and then finally he got to see the doctor, and the doctor put some salve on it? You call that dull?

Why do they call it the slush pile? Is it because editors laugh hysterically while drinking Slurpees and douse the appointed sacrificial submissions with cherry-flavored slush, dancing and chanting a tribal ditty before slapping a rejection letter in the SASE? Yeah, probably not.

If an agent falls in the forest, does anyone hear it?

I think writing a synopsis is rather like the self-imposed torture ritual of stapling your toes to the back of a semi truck’s mudflaps, then driving over speed bumps repeatedly. Then again, maybe it’s like trying to write a query letter.

The Letter I’ll Never Send

Dear Editor: (I bow and grovel at your feet)

I am writing to ask about the status of my manuscript, The Best Book Ever Written. (Tell me now! I can’t stand it any longer! My head is about to explode and I’m now diving at the phone every time it rings, dreaming that it’s you on the other line!). It has been over three months(Okay, technically, it’s been nine months, thirteen days, 4 hours, and 37 minutes according to the time it left the post office. But who’s counting, really?), and I would like to know if you have made any decisions as of yet. (Buy my book. Buy my book. I’ll be your best friend. Pretty please?

Thank you so much for your time (I bow down to your greatness. I am unworthy to breathe the air you breathe) and I look forward to receiving your response. (Buy my book. Buy my book. You know you want it. I’ll give you chocolate.) An SASE is included for your convenience(But you really won’t need it because I know the angels will weep and the heavens will shine down once you’ve read my brilliant manuscript).

Sincerely,

Michelle (Soon to be the next Nora)

Gleeful Rewriting

Pardon me a moment while I gloat. I just finished a new proposal and a synopsis that I’m happy with, and since I can’t let well enough alone, I decided it was time to haul out my first book YET AGAIN and see if it was fixable. It’s not.

But that’s okay. I realized that what was bugging me was the fact that it has an opening that was a complete cliche (all right, all right. The whole book is a cliche.). Hero interrupts heroine’s wedding. Heroine flails and screams. Hero grabs her onto a horse and takes off across the countryside. Heroine flails and screams.

Parts of it are funny, but most of it made me want to grab the heroine by the throat and smack her silly.

So, I decided to do an exercise in Entertaining Michelle(tm). I decided that I would take every cliche and stomp it flat—starting with that infamous wedding scene. Instead of the heroine flailing and screaming….she gives the hero a black eye. She tries to kick his *ss (unsuccessfully, but she gives it her best shot. Or three good punches, anyway).

When the scene was finished, I printed it out and reread it. It made me laugh. I really enjoyed it. I think there may be hope for this story yet. I’m going to rewrite it from scratch, and this time–the goal is purely for the love of writing. I want to laugh at these people and in general, feel good about the book.

The hero had better watch his back, is all I can say. ‘Cuz this is one heroine who won’t let him get away with anything!