My last post was like…a month ago? Two months? Crazy time of the year, to say the least. Only a few short weeks until the election and I may be able to identify my husband once more without first checking his driver’s license photo. And I will be able to start promoting “Crocodile Rock” outside of the home. This month has been spent catching up on art projects, baking cakes/cupcakes, and this weekend overhauling my creative space to take on more art projects before the holidays. (Which yielded my picture for today, the watercolor cover painting I did for an older version of “Crocodile Rock” from at least 8 years ago. Funny how the story changed but the dream never did.)
It’s a little wacky, this life we Napiers have. How we manage to pack so much into the waking hours and cut the sleeping ones back to the bare minimum to fit it all in. I think in this entire year my husband and I have gone on exactly three dates, I have gone out with friends twice, and the one race I was anticipating going on the entire year I had to bail on due to the rampaging stomach flu which ravaged 3/4 associates and myself and lasted nearly the duration of Fall Break. The rest of the time, it’s chauffer duties, school, running, extracurriculars for the girls, and working. Either painting, baking, or writing, all of the time, and through it all, fighting to follow my dream.
I ran into a judge friend at a birthday party yesterday as I was picking up one daughter and he was surprised that I had my other three with me, patiently waiting for their sister to finish.
“Oh, you have them all today, don’t you?” friendly, glad-it’s-not-me chuckle.
“All day, every day, buddy.”
“Oh, that’s right,” he said as he remembered the days of campaigning and all that it entailed, “so you do like the whole homework thing, driving them around, everything right now, huh?”
I laid the driver’s license identification line on him and he gave another friendly chuckle and changed the subject.
Sure, it’s tough right now. Taking on every project I can to make ends meet. Running and working in the mornings, working while the kids play and having to stop twenty times to break up a fight or join in or read a book or wipe a nose or kiss a boo boo, rushing to get them to karate or dance on time with dried paint caked to my hands, and continuing after they go to bed until I can’t keep my eyes open just to wake up and do it again. Sometimes discouragement can set in, but luckily the past few months especially, I haven’t had time for that (and have, in fact, had to schedule every other Thursday for breathing) so that’s been a positive to being even more busy than usual.
So I’ll take the time to “worry” about that now. What if it never happens for me? What if I never become a world-famous jet-setting author that sets the world aflame with my writing? What if I never sell copies all over the world or become Number One on the NYT Best Seller’s List or meet JK Rowling and Mary Higgins Clark and Marian Keyes or collaborate with screenwriters and bicker with directors over the movie versions of my books? What if I work myself to the bone every waking moment and pour every drop of soul into the pages of my work, and, time permitting, artwork, and still have to take another job to finance my kids’ educations?
As far as I can see it, the only conclusion is that I will have lived.