I have been a bit remiss lately, in the blogging realm. Everyone who knows anything about blogs will always tell you, “Consistency is key.” “Regularity is critical.” Or my favorite, “I always say, a blog is like a hungry baby; it constantly needs to be fed.”
Well, I believe you. But life will interfere, it will, it will. For instance, at this moment, I am kind of in labor. Like birthing labor.
I am about 8 centimeters dilated with the delivery of my second book. Which doesn’t yet have a name. And the due date is fast approaching, so it will arrive, it simply has to, but I am frantically trying to put the finishing touches on the nursery. Or at least buy a crib.
Okay, lost that metaphor. Let’s try again. Less metaphor.
The manuscript for my next book is due in two weeks. I am not done. I am working very hard. I am either sitting and writing, or standing and cooking. Or working at my other job. Or picking up my kids. Or trying to catch a minute with Gary. Or patting my dog on the head while he miserably recovers from the anesthesia he apparently had to undergo to get his teeth cleaned. Can someone explain why canine teeth cleaning necessitates general anesthesia?
One more time.
The first book is like a first baby; you are certainly busy, but you have seemingly lots of time to gaze down Madonna-like at your stomach, and prepare for the miracle that’s about to happen. And pick out paint colors.
Okay, that never happened either. BUT writing a second book is definitely like having a second child. Your are busy chasing around the first, your house is a disaster, and there is a little less “this is a miracle” and more “I think I’ve got to get this thing out of me.” Less “how much betacarotene should I have every day?”, more “are you going to pass the chips or what?”
I absolutely love my second child as much as my first, and vice versa. Some people worry about this, having a favorite. I worry about plenty, but always knew this would never be an issue for me somehow. And it hasn’t. Whew. I have fairly fabulous kids, with my fairly fabulous husband Gary. And I know I will love this second book as much as I love the first one. But that doesn’t mean I will enjoy the labor.
As long as I’ve fallen off the trail and down the ravine I’ll say this. In conclusion, these are the two things I remember the most about right after the birth of Charlie, my second child. He got plunked onto my chest, and because I already knew how much I was capable of loving Jack (almost three then) I was already ten steps ahead of myself in love. All I could say for about 20 minutes was, “HI! Hi! Hi!”
And then a few hours later, a beaming Gary went home to get Jack and bring him to the hospital to meet his new brother. Infant Charlie took a nap, I went out to wait for Jack. In the hallway. For about two hours. I stood there by the elevator, watching it bing every time it arrived on the floor, leaning towards it with a big, goofy smile, until finally Jack ran out. I don’t remember ever being so happy to see anyone in my life.
This creation thing, whether it’s a kid or a book or a painting or probably even a really good analytical report is very intense. Just saying. And a due date is a really good thing.