Got a Minute?

Photo Credit: B&A

After years holed up in my own universe I was going to share!  Ta-da!  And they were going to give me some positive feedback!  Yay!  Isn't life grand?  It didn't exactly go as planned - and THAT is what happens when you no longer get to write the script.  So I printed off a few dozen pages from various sections of my baby and chased down my husband and kids and forced, um, shared it with them.  Instead of enthusiasm my big reveal was met with comments like:  "I'm in the middle of an on-line final" and "I'm filling out paperwork for the IRS that my BUSINESS MANAGER *meaningful glare* forgot to fill out and now we have to pay a fine - but my BUSINESS MANAGER was busy writing her novel and DIDN'T DO IT so no, I don't have time to read your book right now" and "Today is the anniversary of my best friend's grandmother's dog's surgery for a torn ligament and we're hosting a pancake breakfast to raise money and awareness for the shocking epidemic of torn ligaments in fifteen year old beagles that is sweeping the country!  Don't you watch the news?!  Oh wait!  No you don't!  You sit in your room and type twelve hours a day!"  (I am paraphrasing those quotes a tad, but I think I got it close.) 

Of course they didn’t tell me right out to go back to my room and play with my imaginary friends, wait – yes – my daughter did actually say just that.  My husband, who has read a grand total of one novel in his entire life, put his section to read in, um, his reading room where it sits still (and let me just say that was QUITE some time ago).  My girlie - in her own good time - grabbed a red pen and had a go all over her portion of the story, am fairly certain it was vengeance for my red pen on her homework days.  My son did peruse his portion (each section was different parts of the collective works, very varied) and he compared everything to various video game scenarios – I think it was positive feedback.  I’m not sure.  My grasp on the language of mathy engineering types is somewhat limited.  After that my son encouraged me, also, to return to whatever it was I was doing at the computer for hours every day.  Which I did, though I did make it a point to smooth over their perceived negligence on my part.  Every evening for two solid weeks I baked them a huge casserole dish of homegrown squash.  If that doesn't say 'I love you' I don't know what does.