At the brink

Here I am, five days into homeschooling, and I feel on the brink of insanity. I remember now why I didn't have more children. It's that need for some level of personal space...and, introvert that I am, that's important to me. It's not that the homeschooling aspect of things isn't going well; it is. It's the constant togetherness. This other person is here all day, and he's a child, and he needs me. And we've been dealing with an explosion of migraines since the first of August and he's having all kinds of trouble sleeping — problems falling asleep, problems staying asleep, nightmares, etc., etc. It is awful for him, but the ugly truth is that it is also awful for me. I don't want to deal. I just don't. And so there it is. I'm such a nice mommy.

The Pets

Why do we love our pets so much? What is that? We were recently away in New Hampshire, just the boys and I, as the husband had too much work to do. I missed the pets desperately. When I came home, Checkers spent the next day folded up next to me on the bed while I worked. Every once in a while she would look up at me through her tired, half-closed eyes and begin to purr. We were a picture of contentment. It frightens me that I now understand how someone ends up in a house full of forty cats. Or eighty. I am hoping I don't let this happen to me.

And the dog. I was assured that he didn't appear to be missing me too much. He was, supposedly, his regular self. But Bear was utterly overjoyed at our return. Beside himself happy. The next day I was outside on the deck while some guys were finishing up some work on it (a project that someone else started last summer), and when I was introduced to one of them, Bear rushed to my defense as the guy came toward me to shake my hand. Bear charged up onto the deck with his terrifying bark, telling the guy to back off. Obviously I wasn't in any danger, but, honestly, that made me love Bear even more. I mean, Bear knew the guy; he'd been there while we were away. But somehow he knew that I didn't know the guy, and I guess he wanted to put the fellow in his place. Or something. But this is something I love about Bear, that protective instinct.

I think a lot about animals. They figure into the book I'm trying to write, and somehow in that story I really want to express some of my thoughts and feelings about the relationship between humans and animals. But I often find myself wondering about animals' emotions. How do they feel about us? What do they think? What do we mean to them?

Reading and Writing (not!)

I recently finished Unaccustomed Earth, a collection of stories by Jumpha Lahiri. Everything about it was perfect. She's one of those writers who I wish was much further along in her career because I'd like there to be a great backlog of books to read. Oh well. I''ll just have to wait a year or two or three for the next one.

I love to discover great writers I haven't read before. I think sometimes that reading can be a bit like gorging yourself -- but mostly without the guilt, unless you're reading when you should be working. And when you find a writer and discover you adore their writing, then it's so much fun to go back and read all their books. That way you can avoid that slightly depressed feeling that can come after you finish a truly great book. Of course, only true reading geeks know just what that feels like.

I've been trying to read some children's/YA fantasy lately -- something, anything to sort of inspire me to get back to the work of writing -- but it's just not working. I can't get into anything. It feels like work and not joy. And I am not writing. I think I sort of surrendered the summer. A lot of work to do. And just the work of summer -- helping the boys have a good one, that is. And the lack of a stable routine. But who am I kidding? The school year, which starts in two weeks, is going to be tricky too. Working. Homeschooling. The demands of school and sports and all the back and forth. And somehow, some way, I must set aside a time to write each day, otherwise this whole thing will just go down the drain. And it would be so easy to let that happen. I'm busy enough to pretend that would be no big deal.

Perhaps I should drown my sorrows in a good book. Suggestions anyone?