Talking Like A Teen...

The only problem with writing YA is there is a side of me that is losing my adult filter.  Grown-up selflessness and empathy have been severely compromised since my characters entered my head.  And don't even get me started on the way I talk.

Example:
The other day I was talking to some friends of mine who are soon to be married.  I asked them about their wedding plans.  The woman has a million friends so I asked her if her bridal party would be family only or if she was going to have to supply the groom with a few friends to balance things out.  She explained that he has a lot of brothers.

Me:  "And he must have a bestie, right?"
Bride (smirking): "Yes, he does have a best friend."

My YA speak is also filtering down to my kids.  A part of me is secretly delighted but the other side of me is sure it is only a matter of time until I get phone calls.

Example:
This morning my 8yo displayed less than attractive behavior due to a long weekend and daylight savings  hell (why is it so much harder on kids?).  My 6yo held his tongue as she verbally lashed him for his bad morning breath.  But on the way to the car, he pulled me aside and said: "Mom, I don't think Jojo is doing much this morning to decrease world SUCK."

6yo=Awesome

I was starting to get very concerned about the teenagers taking over my head until I had a chat with my friend Bergl who reminded me that on the day that my 3yo was born (2 years before I started work on my YA ms), I called every single person at the hospital "dude."

Example:
Me (to triage nurse): Dude, I think I need an epidural.
Me (to labor and delivery nurse): Dude, how are they doing in getting my epidural?
Me (to random med students): Dudes, do you have my epidural?
Me (to woman who walked into the room looking for tape): Dude, are you the anesthesiologist with my epidural?
Me (to everyone in the room): Dude.  Epidural.  Now.
Me (to anesthesiologist): Dude, where have you been?...Dude, what does that question have to do with my epidural?....Dude, you are killing me here....Dude, forget it, you're too late.

Non-sequitir: For those keeping track, I am 3/4 of the way through revisions of GESTAPO.  These revisions are minute revisions (as opposed to the BIG REVISE of a few weeks ago).  They involve taking out 8,432 "just"s and 34,211 "that"s in my ms.

Ex: "It's just that I need an epidural" is now "I need an epidural."

I know, I know.  That's just (G)good craftmanship.

On Japan

Japan shredded me.  It feels as personal as Haiti even though we don’t have family there.  As personal as knowing my friend Carrie was in Christchurch when the quake hit. 

My friend Dan said, “The earth is trying to kill us.”  He is right, of course. We are fragile humans in an evolutionary process that we cannot stop.  It is hubris to think otherwise. 

But every loss is painful. And paralyzing. 

My reaction to this type of tragedy is to hold tighter to those I love, to remember how happy I am in my life. I am happy in my life.  So incredibly happy.

I am grateful for my family, friends, followers.  Thank you for being part of this life with me.

Please consider donating to the Red Cross if you haven’t already.

The House of Cards

My 8 year old is just like me.  Yesterday, I heard her in the other room telling my youngest, "Butter, it's not appropriate to say 'poopy head' to your friends.  That's 8 year old talk and you need to understand that not everyone in your class has older brothers and sisters.  You need to be a better example."  Awesome.  It's like having a back-up mom.  I think that this is fabulous (except for the fact that she was the one who taught him poopy head in the first place).

But last night, she started in with the honesty thing and I started to wonder if perhaps it would be better if she had a bit more of Julio and a bit less of me in her.  

Setting:  Family dinner---all 5 of us present

8yrold:  So it turns out there's no Tooth Fairy.

Me:  Pardon?

8yo:  Yeah, this girl at school did an experiment and found out that she doesn't exist.

6yo:  Yes, she does.

8yo:  No, she doesn't.  My friend has proof.

Me:  What was the proof? 

8yo:  Her tooth fell out and she didn't tell her mom and the Tooth Fairy didn't come.

Me:  Huh.  Well, maybe the Tooth Fairy forgot.  That's happened to you before (Yes, I totally forgot one night...okay, maybe 3 nights but whatever, she got her quarters and a really good apology note the next night).

6yo:  Yeah, she's forgotten with me too.  (Okay, I might have forgotten with him also but it was only the one time.)

Me:  The Tooth Fairy has a lot to do.  She's probably not perfect.

8yo:  Yeah, kind of like you, Mom.  

3yo:  Can I have more butter, pwease?

8yo:  Hey Mom, how come Santa has different writing every year when he leaves me a note?

Me:  How do you know that he has different writing?

8yo:  I kept the notes and compared them.  They are definitely different.

Me:  Maybe he types them on the computer and the fonts are different.

6yo:  No, I saw them.  They are handwritten.

Me:  Well, maybe his staff helps with writing the notes.

8yo:  Huh.  I don't think so. (long pause) It would be a bummer if there is no Tooth Fairy or Santa Claus.

3yo:  More milk, pwease.

6yo:  Yeah, that would mean we wouldn't get money OR presents.

Julio (finally):  Exactly.  Better to keep believing.  Is there any more stew?

I am a fiction writer.  I like the magic.  But when do we come clean with our kids?  Montessori school is tricky because the kids are grouped in 3 year cycles.  That means that my 1st grader is exposed to 3rd grader insight.  This can be awesome sometimes, but it also can lead to the following:

6yo:  Hey mom, the F-word was written on the bathroom stall in Chinatown.  

Me:  How do you know the F-word?

8yo:  He heard one of the 3rd grade boys scream it really loud one day at recess.

Me:  What was he doing saying the F-word at recess?

8yo:  He was trying to explain what it meant to one of the first graders in my class.

6yo:  Yeah, but I couldn't hear what he was saying.

Me:  Thank God.

8yo:  Hey mom, what does sex mean?

Damn you, 3rd grader with way too much knowledge!  I'm going to be taking you to the Peace Table pretty soon.