Dear Roger;Vacation? Riiight!

Its two weeks until the end of school. Oh God....Its TWO WEEKS UNTIL THE END OF SCHOOL! I am not particularly looking forward to this time. Yeah, if we had a way to get out and go do stuff, maybe, but with one kid that meanders, ambles and wanders more than he walks, another who has his own agenda that involves getting as far away from his,"Embarrassing" siblings as possible, and limited resources, I have a feeling its going to be a special kind of hell. I figure the eldest with stay gone as much as possible with his friends, returning home only to eat when we have a fully stocked larder, hit me up for cash, and clean laundry. The other two boys will complain constantly about having nothing to do. Walking to the park with them will result in complaints that its hot and there is still nothing to do.
Daughter will be gone for a week in July to church camp, I guess I am okay with that. last year it was only 3 days and I had a really hard time with it. This year its an entire week. I don't know. Her and one of her little church companions have been having issues and its going to reach a boiling point soon. She came home last night so angry that she kicked a chair and ranted about her for a good 5 minutes. Apparently the other little girl is a snobby little thing who likes to rub what she has in my daughters face and make fun of the fact we don't have much. Shes probably about to get popped in the nose. I've tried talking to Stevie, told her about how some people have to make up for a lack of everything else by showing off material things, and telling her to ignore the brat, but apparently the kid likes to follow Stevie around and get in her face about it.
Little girls are mean bitches. My daughter is a lot like me. If she pops the kid in the nose,(and I have told her violence is not the key), then she probably wont be going to church camp. If she doesn't go,ill have to find a way to keep her busy because when she isn't occupied, all hell breaks loose.
My stress stash is gone. A small bag of chocolates,a pack of cigaretts and 20 bucks, gone. I kept it hidden in the cabinet for those times when I was at the point where the amount of stress in my life had given me a case of  the twitches.The chocolate is self-explanatory, the smokes are a throwback to an old habit I had when I was a cop and I didn't smoke often or much, but it was a calming thing that also got the odor of human decomp out of your sinuses pretty effectively. The 20 was for a nice quality beer,(change to be had, of course), most likely a Guinness Stout. But the thing is, I can only indulge in my stress relief when kids are gone and I have the stash.
I have been really stressed out the past couple of days, its been one of those waiting game, gorilla in the room kind of things.
My book is out there, people have read it and no reviews have posted. The books in L.A. are missing or an unknown quantity. I am an obsessive compulsive personality with severe control freak tendencies. So I am in hell. I had planned to indulge in a bit of stress relief last night, I was going to send all the kids to church, and after munching on chocolate all day long, I was going to wait until they left then hot foot it down to the local market, buy my beer and then sit on my back porch, drink a beer and smoke until I either relaxed or my heart exploded.
Everything went pear shaped the moment I climbed up on top of the fridge. I found a trail of chocolate wrappers leading to the stash spot, they were cast about with an air of disdain as if to say,"Amateur". Reaching the stash spot, I prized it open to find not only the money gone, but the smokes gone as well. BUSTED.
My kids are all rabidly anti-tobacco. They wont care that they were expensive and hadn't even been opened, they probably did horrible things to them and then threw them in the trash or the commode as if they had found a junkies stash.
The 20? Yeah...it was gone too. I could ask about it, but we al know the truth, the little one who smiled at me soo innocently and said,"I don't know what you are talking about" that very morning probably didn't get to keep it and if I say anything to the big brother, then there will be the days long lecture about the evils of smoking.
I think I am just going to cut my losses, pretend it didn't happen and try to just distract myself with other things until all this passes. Its only the whole summer.

Dear Roger: Fearless

I have no thumbnails anymore. I have chewed them to the quick. Grandma would be so aggravated at me again,after all, she was the one who broke me of that habit when I was a kid and kept my nails chewed down to bloody nubs. Granted, her method of smacking me each time she caught me with my hands in my mouth would be seen as a bit harsh nowadays, it was effective at stopping it and a lot kinder than my moms answer of cutting all my nails down to the quick so there was nothing to chew! A few of my nervous tics have resurfaced and im working hard to control them, but of course my teen son has decided to be a full on jerk to me, stressing me as much as possible, so as if I didn't have enough on my plate with the end of the school year wrapping up, financials in crisis, books I am trying to promote, and let me tell you, as a NOBODY, that is hard as hell!
I am Southern, and as a Southerner, I don't like to impose on people, I don't like to keep nudging my way in front of people and begging them to notice me, but luckily I have friends who have been trying to help me get over that. Im working on trying to get my books to a larger audience, but its hard! Im not a well known person even in my own little social circles so just getting attention among them is not easy.
I am good at talking about other peoples stuff, heck, you ask me about those boys and their doings and you better pack a lunch and be prepared to sit a spell and listen, because I can tell you pretty much everything you want to know and then I will twist your arm,(maybe even literally), until you buy some of their stuff, but when it comes to my writing, I just stress and worry and think its never good enough. I sent those books out with delivery confirmations on them and I don't know why the hell I did that other than I must have a masochistic streak a mile wide. After I got notice that a couple of them had been delivered, I threw my guts up.
The two that went to L.A. are still in the wind and haven't been received according to the postal website,(not that I have chronically been twitching every time I get an "New Email" alert), so the rest of my fingernails have remained intact so far, but my daughter has been looking at me funny all morning. "You didn't sleep good last night at all. You are grumpy and jumpy today. Its going to be okay, your book is really cool! I love it, isn't that enough?"
It should be, it really should be, but I want to do well for her and the rest of my kids. I want to be able to give them a better life and maybe some kind of affirmation from somewhere would soothe my soul, but I know that's not coming from my parents, and there have been absolutely no reviews posted on the Kindle site though folks have been kind enough to tweet me some really good ones.
I built an authors page on Facebook last night, and I'm going to film the commercial that my little girl has come up with because its pretty damn funny if nothing else, and I always think that that world could use more funny.
I don't know what to do, Rog. I am no good at this stuff. I'm used to rejection and criticism and I should be fine with dealing with it, but until it comes, its like standing at waiting for that first punch to land, you just know its gonna sting and take your breath away and most likely make me want to do like I did with my art and photography, burn it all and just hide for the next 20 years, but I really cant afford to do that. I have kids depending on me now, and watching me, and I have to lead by example, even when its hard.
I'm going to let my little girl lead the way with most of the talking and the promotion of my writing and such, because for some reason, she believes in me and its so weird to be out in public to have someone walk up to people and say,"Hey! did you know my mom is a writer?! Shes really GOOD! You should buy her books!"  I love my kid, I don't know what I did to deserve her, and I hope I don't let her down.

Dear Roger:Talking To Myself In The Wee Hours

So I finally went and did it, I did the vlog thingy to talk about my writing and what motivates me and what not. I think I look like I need a couple good nights sleep, but considering it was recorded at 1130 at night after a long day of chasing kids around, my options were kind of limited.
I don't get a lot of quiet time in my house for doing things like that, I have either kids making all kinds of racket, a dog scratching his bits and ratting his crate or his collar or jingling the bells on the back door wanting out, or the dryer is running, the dishwasher, or I have a kid needing to ask me a question or even better, I have to referee a fight.
At night, if I am lucky, its fairly quiet. Most of the kids settle pretty quick and I can actually sneak in a little writing without my train of thought getting interrupted, but if I say an idea out loud,(as I tend to do in order to test out how it really sounds), then i often end up with Sticky coming out to see who I am talking to.
I end up falling asleep on the couch most nights and that's not a good thing. Our couch is not the most comfortable, its horrible for my back, and ive come close to dropping my laptop off my lap more than once. My daughter has become pretty insistent lately that I go to my actual bed at a reasonable hour, and she will come and stand in front of me with her ratty monkey and give me the,"Look" until I acknowledge her and say,"Yes daughter, Ill go to bed soon." Shes usually unhappy with my response, but when I have an idea working, its hard to stop it.
Promoting my books has been nerve wracking. A friend of mine said its like having children out there that you want people to love like you do, and she was exactly right, my books are like my children.
My daughter is going to make a commercial for them for me. She has been my biggest cheerleader in the entire family, hugging me almost daily and telling me how proud she is of me, and she brags about me to everyone! Its funny at times to hear her. She was even telling off the ex last night, "Did you buy moms book?" He told her that he had not, and she said,"Well why haven't you? She did a really great job and she has been working hard and I am very proud of her! You should be supporting her!" I was quietly doing a fist pump as he apologized and said that he would order one right away.
She wants to read my books and I have had a hard time keeping them out of her hands. While they are not ADULT content, they do have some adult content that I don't think she is ready to read, even if she has read the Harry Potter books. The kids did harass me into reading them a few chapters of 'Face in the Rear View Mirror" the other night and the laughter that echoed in the living room was infectious and we started telling and remembering other family stories that made us all happy.
The poop in the heater vent is a classic that will remain in family lore for decades, as will the monkey flying out the car window at 85 mph, along with the countless others that didn't make it into the novel.
I read the last chapter aloud to my daughter and she lunged at me and hugged me tightly and said,"That was soo cool! Thank you! When will you write the next book?" I just laughed and told her that it was her tale to tell from here on out.

Dear Roger: A Small Immortality

Last night was interesting around here, even more so than usual in that I actually read to the kids some of the more kid friendly chapters of my book,"Face In The Rear View Mirror". At first the only one really paying attention was Stevie, because she knew right off which character was based on her, and she was laughing and alternately cringing as she realized her antics had been shared with the world at large, but then her brothers started listening as well and there was laughter and lots of ,"Oh, and remember when..."
My kids were shocked that I had actually written something that in a way, included them and told some of their stories and Stevie was oddly touched. She hugged me and said,"I really liked the last chapter, being a writer must be the best job in the world if you can do stuff like that."
She has decided that she wants to help promote my book, and in order to do that, she thinks a commercial is the way to go so she has started planning for this commercial, including casting and planning for who was supposed to handle what, like her brother Stubby is supposed to be in charge of,"Lighting, props, and Sticky wrangling so there isn't and accidental nakedness in the shots." She is busily trying to think of everything as well as even write a jingle for it! I think its a much better idea than leaving me in charge of it, because I am not particularly adept at promotion, Im just the writer.
Writing some of the characters in my stories were hard, some were easy. They were mostly based off of encounters I have had with people, and people I have known and a couple of them are amalgamations of a couple people put together. I developed a few of them from kids I knew who never grew up, and those were the tough ones, but that is the thing about being a writer, you can give people life and imagine who they would have grown to be and that is a blessing and a curse. I think many writers do this, childhood friends and family who left too soon or invisible friends are given new life and allowed to thrive in the pages of books, freeing the writer to be able to visit them and imagine them somewhere happy and vibrant. Even a giant, slobbery dog that often peeled the paint off the walls with his farts, gains immortality in the pages of a book and hes remembered once again.
My kids laughed the most at the,"Poop in the heater vent" chapter, and yes, that did actually happen, and Sticky still laughs about it to this day, so if nothing else I created something that has immortalized family chaos and mythology in a way that will be a cautionary tale for future generations.

Dear Roger: Performance Anxiety

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B0084HETDA
  So yesterday was a day I took a pretty big gamble, I put my new novel out on the Amazon website on a free promotion day and then I actually mailed copies of it to the people I dedicated it to.
If you know anything about me, you know how hard that was for me to do, in fact, at the post office, my hands were shaking so hard as I tried to pay for the shipping, the clerk had to swipe my card for me. Even after it was all said and done, I still, for one mad moment, debated grabbing the packages back and running, but I had my kids with me and Sticky is notoriously slow, so it would have been an ordeal and I would have been easily apprehended and probably tazed as insane.
I didn't have as much of an issue dropping off copies at the local store that wanted them, I don't know why, I mean, after all, these are people I see pretty much every week when we need food or whatever, but mailing them out to people I dedicated it to? That left me in what was pretty close to  a full blown panic attack.
The fact that one of them, who I really respect and admire, kept giving me shout outs, had me in fits all evening. I watched the numbers for downloads climb until 0130 in the morning until I finally passed out on the couch with my computer on my lap.
Its terrifying being out there with my writing, blogging and writing little fic's is one thing, but actually trying to get recognized as a serious, legitimate author is something that, at my age, is like trying to jump into the rapids of a raging river in the middle of winter.
I'm not good at the whole,"Promotion" thing. I can talk to people, but I am good at talking about other people stuff that I love and enjoy. Ask me about music and Ill talk your ear off about what is good and what I like, ask me about other people writing and you better be prepared to sit a spell and have a long palaver about things because I am Southern and prone to being a bit on the chatty side, but ask me about my writing and that sound the needle makes when drawn sharply across a record , you know, the one that makes you cringe? That is what you hear.
My son is trying to get me to make a video blog about my writing, one of those things where I talk about what inspired me and my motivations. I made a recording last night and when he gets home from his beach adventures with his buddies, Ill let him play with it and maybe upload it, but I dont know. I recorded it and re-recorded it half a dozen times and I realized that, HOLY HELL! IM OLD! but, you know, for once, as scary and as naked feeling as it is, I am doing something I love, and every single time that number goes up, and every time a review comes in, I feel like I am a little further down that road.

Dear Roger: Pride Goeth, Hopefully Before Next Fall

My eldest son got a bit of a wake up call yesterday, and I think it has left him feeling like hes been smacked in the pecker with a rolled up newspaper and rightfully so.
He is a talented, natural musician, one of those disgusting people who can pick up any instrument and after a short while, play it like they were born with it in their hands, his latest feat is to play the Imperial March every time I walk into the room, no matter what he had been playing because I told him I killed off a character in one of my stories. Yesterday he was sitting on the couch playing Shy Water, working out the mandolin part on his guitar, when I walked into the room, so key the March, then he got bored and started playing Fur Elise mashed up with Millionaire and then Caress Me Down. He just effortlessly blends and plays songs now, and when I commented that I was proud of him for learning Shy Water on his own when requests for the guitar tabs had gone ignored, he snarked at me, "Gee mom, did you really think it would be rocket science?"
Hes gotten cocky. He has a fantastic voice with a vocal range that has had his choir teacher having 10 different fits trying to keep him attending after he transferred to the online program, in fact, we waded through a myriad of paperwork and hassle to ensure she could keep him in concert choir, and hes had a couple of solos where he played guitar and he was being groomed to be part of her elite championship performance choir, but then he got lazy about showing up.
He spends hours everyday playing his guitar and when the mood strikes him, he will even take out his violin and play it, he has continued to try and work out how to write music on his own and hes come up with some really interesting tunes as he keeps experimenting with his style, but he hates having to follow others rules and agendas. I don't know where he gets that...
He went yesterday to audition for his spot in concert choir for next year,(a requirement for all Jrs.) and while the Director raved about his fantastic range and about how well his voice has developed, as has his musical ability,and she even told him that she would love to have him as a soloist in her elite performance choir,(they wear tux's) as anything from a tenor to a baritone, she was hesitant to spend any time on him because he was unreliable. She flat out told him to his face in front of everyone that while he was amazingly talented, and had the chops to go far, he wasn't going to unless he found the drive and the ambition to take him there.
I think I love that teacher now. I've been telling him that for what feels like forever, but it just went in one ear and right out the other. He blew me off and acted like he knew he was going to just have everything he wanted fall into his lap. He tells me he likes the rush of having to get everything done last minute and the pressure of looming deadlines, (hes buried in schoolwork), but I've tried to tell him that if makes him look like he is flakey and that he half-asses everything. What is really disgusting is while he lets the schoolwork pile up and then rushes though, he ends up getting A's on it! That pisses me off, nothing should be that easy for him and I hope that this teacher threatening to deny him the spot he wants as a soloist with that elite choir will be the one thing that sparks a fire under his ass and gets him working in a more reliable manner.
Hes going back to regular High School this next year and Stevie is going back to regular elementary school, though she will be advanced a grade or two ahead for her age and she will be getting some additional Gifted support through an online program at home. They have missed the socialization and all the extras like the music and art that the public schools have and I have missed my sanity. Trying to herd two kids through lessons on a daily basis while writing, keeping house, working, dealing with two other kids, including one who got in trouble yesterday for mooning an entire class, is exhausting, stressful and has lead to me constantly having to be the ,"Bad Guy" and im done with it.  We are going to try going back to the,"Normal" this next year to see if it keeps the insanity level down, and hopefully my son will decide that actually showing up and doing what he is supposed to will work better for him that sitting in the living room playing his guitar where only his long-suffering mother is around to hear.

Dear Roger: Is That A Monkey In Your Pants?

Kids...There are days when as a parent you wish for a remote control so you could hit either the mute, rewind or pause button just for a moments sanity, and yesterday was one of those days for me.
I have a teenager. His nickname is,"Werewolf Boy" and not because of any affinity for movies or anything like that, its because of his preponderance of body hair and his temperament. He is a typical teen boy in that he is a moody, confusing, often smelly, eating machine that seems to often delight in bickering with his little sister. Most of the time he is a great older brother who has been unfortunately forced into the,"Dad" role because her dad is not around and is less than optimal. He tries hard to imbue in her manners, morals and a a good set of values, but every now and then he gets a wild hair and just becomes a typical teen brother who wants to torture his little sister for a bit, and that was yesterday.
She was sitting at the table, working on something on her computer and he walked up behind her. He made some comment about her being on Facebook and bothering Jerad Anderson and she said,"I am not! I'm looking for a music video." He snarked back at her about how she was supposed to be doing schoolwork, and the bickering began. They sniped back and for for a few minutes with me tuning most of it out as long as there were not obscenities involved, and then she must have hit a nerve because he turned and headed for her room.
Oh shit...that was my first thought has she shrieked in horror. I knew what he was after before he even reached the bedroom door. Sure enough, he emerged with Jackson in his paw, grinning ear to ear as he dangled it above her. Issuing all kinds of vile threats to poor Jacksons person. I told him to give the monkey back just as she hauled off and popped him right where he thinks.
He went to the floor, folded up around the monkey as Spencer the dog went nuts, barking and running all over, Stubby arrived home from school to add to the chaos as both kids jumped on Werewolf boy to try to rescue Jackson, but now he was ticked off and there was blood in his eye and malice in his heart.
He dangled the monkey over the dog, as he raced into her room and grabbed Jerad monkey, creating even more chaos as he shoved Jackson monkey DOWN HIS PANTS. Stevie fell to the floor, in shock and horror at what her poor lovey was experiencing as Stubby bravely tried to rescue Jerad, only to see his stuffed dragon, "Fafner" fall to the same fate as Jackson,(I dont know how he kept the shorts up), and that cause Stub to snap just a little, necessitating me hiding the ball bat.
Werewolf Boy retreated to his room with the hostages in his possession as Sticky arrived home and emotions began to run high. Daughter was plotting nefarious revenge on his guitar and Stub has already hidden his long board. I went and knocked on the door, attempting negotiations for the release of the hostages all in one piece, but was met with silence as he was busy talking to his girlfriend. I knew then that desperate times called for desperate measures. Being sure to warn the small kids of my plan, I went and knocked on Werewolf Boys door one more time, telling him that I had had enough of the chaos for the day, that the kids were upset and wanted Jackson and Fafner back, he snarked at me that they didn't deserve them for being brats and that I needed to just deal. It was at that point I collapsed, making sure to hit the door and the wall on the way down, sounding like a good full on faint.
I am very good a playing dead or unconscious, (survival mechanism), and while I dont use it very often because it tends to freak the kids the hell out, it does get the job done. He opened the door and looked out, finding me laying on the floor with the little kids poking at me and he came out and said,"Mom?" I lay there, holding my breath, trying not to giggle as Daughter said very gravely,"I think you killed her with your meanness" and he said,'Shut up, shes not dead shes just faking." but his voice sounded very concerned as he said,"Mom? Get up..okay? This isn't funny anymore." He tried to roll me over and just as I was halfway over, I grabbed his legs and the bottom hem of his shorts and yelled to the little kids, "Get em!" as they ran into his room and grabbed the hostages and then fled back to Stevie's room, locking the door behind them. I reached up, grabbed his iPhone and tossed it to Stub as he raced past before Werewolf even knew what hit him.
"You are insane, you know that, don't you? Normal moms do not play dead and nearly pants their teenage sons! Thats not COOL!"
I told him, that we were not dealing with normal circumstances, it was monkey rescue and extraordinary circumstances had to be taken, and after he got over being annoyed he laughed. He asked me,"What if you had pants me! What would you have done? " I told him that I was his mom, I had wiped his butt til he was two and taught him to aim to pee, I think I would have survived. He said, "Maybe, but I think I would have died."
He managed to snag Jackson again later in the afternoon just to remind her that he could and this time he stuffed the poor thing in his mouth...I think they both need shots and a good scrubbing.