Tuesday, March 6, 2012

Anita's Attic: A Writer's Weekend

These deadlines have me in panic mode. I wish I could just go away for two weeks and write. Maybe I could get this relic hunters manuscript finished. The rough draft anyway. But I can't just bail out on life, so I'm stuck with all the craziness. This past weekend is a good example.

My daughter had been begging to get some highlights in her hair. A lot of the girls are getting a red streak or something funky. So my sister in law said she would pay for it. It took two weeks to get the appointment, and of course it would be at the same time Skylar's supposed to be playing in a basketball game. Playoffs. Optimistically, we go to the salon, hoping the appointment will be quick. Skylar found a picture of the hair color she wanted. It was bold, with light blonde, dark brown, and a few streaks of reddish color. The hairstylist was a sweetheart. She bought four of my books, so of course she was. But Skylar experienced what most women will be well acquainted with in their lives. It's almost impossible to get hairstylists to understand the color or style you want, even if you have a picture. The color turned out so subtle, it wasn't worth the $130 my sister in law paid. Skylar was disappointed needless to say, but I told her. "It's just beginning, darling. Get used to it. It took me a quarter of a century to find someone I like."

Dad, on the other hand, was pleased that the color job failed. We'd forgotten to tell him she was thinking of a bold color and he wasn't too pleased at the thought of his little girl with multicolored hair. I can't really blame him. I just caved to the pressure. My kids are good at exerting pressure. In preschool my son told his teacher that if he just asked and asked and kept asking, eventually I would give him what he wanted.

From the failed hair appointment we rushed to the basketball game. It was late starting, so we made it in time for the second half, but Skylar had just got out there when she was knocked down and she cut her knee. It wasn't just her. Everyone was getting knocked down. After a horrendous game, we slapped on a bandage and rushed home for the next event. My son's date. Sort of date. He's just about to turn 14, and he was supposed to meet his girlfriend and some friends at the mall, then go to the movies.

They were running late, so we had to wait for an hour. Finally, they arrived. The plan was for them to hang out at the mall for a while, then hubby and I would pick them up and drop them at the movies, but you know how plans go. Especially with a bunch of teenagers. They didn't show up at the appointed time. I waited for half an hour, ready to pull my fingernails out. Then, five minutes before the movie was ready to start, I called the mall and had them page him. Of course he comes out as soon as I end the call. Rush, rush, rush to the theater. Come to a screeching halt, throw the kids out in front, speed off to find a parking spot in the same galaxy, meet hubby who's with my daughter, and finally we sit. Relaxation, at last. Or so I thought.

After the movie, my daughter talked me into taking her to the mall to spend her babysitting money. She didn't get to go to the mall for the first trip. I'm brain dead from that trip, but like the pushover that I am, off we go. Have you ever walked the mall with an 11 year old? I have, many times, and I can say I'm too old for this. I love shopping, but she makes me feel like I need a wheelchair. She ran into a friend and they spent a while chatting, then just as I thought we were ready to leave, she ran into two more friends. Instead of going to the car, we started back through the mall with them.

I was a walking zombie by then, with two aching feet. I mindlessly swiped my credit card in the photo booth and waited for them to take goofy pictures of themselves, as I longed to be anywhere else. Then, joy of joys, one of the moms offered her a sleepover. Yes! I hobbled to the car, managed to drive myself home, and since I was too tired to think, much less write, I crawled into bed without even taking off my make up.

That was this writer's weekend. Not much writing, but my kids had fun, and in the end, that's probably more important.


Kari Lee Townsend said...

Gotta love kids!!!

I am such a pushover, too. Ugh. And they know exactly how to work it.

You will make your deadlines, just focus and stick to your weekly schedule :-)

Good luck. I really can't wait to read that series.

Anita Clenney said...

I really am a pushover. I understand where they're coming from. Sometimes I have to remember to put on the parent hat and not stand in their shoes.

Lindsay said...

That sounds like 'The Weekend from Hell"
Glad you survuved even if you didn't get much writing done

Liz Lipperman said...

What a weekend! I don't think you did anything that any of us out here wouldn't have done for our kids. They rule the roost. And family will always come first before writing...even if it means burning the midnight oil the month before a deadline!!

Anita Clenney said...

That's right, Liz. Family has to come first. Plus, all that craziness is good inspiration for writing.

Anita Clenney said...

Lindsay, I was soooooo tired after it was over, but the kids had so much fun. Still, it will be a while before I hit the mall for that many hours with kids.