it's ok to be happy and stuff

I can hardly believe it has been a month since my last post. A MONTH! I mean, I know no one is blogging like it's 2009 anymore but it's unlike me to commit to something and then go this period of time without either following through with it or formally ending it. My bad--or whatever it is the yunguns are saying nowadays.

I am still adjusting to everything. Mothering six is such a joy--exhausting but worthwhile. The boys are all feeling settled and accepted and at home, even Z. We finally found a vehicle in our price range that could seat all eight of us and it is liberating to go where we need to without having to make multiple trips everywhere or do the occasional desperate trip with two kids laying down in the hatchback trunk. Girls have been delightful to have--I'm slowly developing hair styling skills, and I love that all the children genuinely love and enjoy one another's company.

Mother Perfect accepted a job in another state so we sadly said good-bye to her last weekend. Which leaves us with a spare bedroom, a bit more space to spread out, and no more dog and all that dogs entail. We will miss her and especially her laugh but wish her all the best in her next adventure. The house is coming together design-wise. I promise to post pictures when it's complete.

I suppose the one thing that is less than ideal is my relationship with my writing as of late. There are a few factors standing between myself and my ability to zone back in on what once came to me like breathing. One, of course, is just being busier--bigger home to care for, more children, more (lots more!) driving. A different sleep schedule because of earlier school start times, requiring me to surrender those precious early morning hours between midnight and 2am that used to be my 'magic time.' Also, with the fact that Mr. Perfect's career is further advanced than my own that it just makes sense right now to put my supporting efforts into boosting him over the top.

Life with Mr. Perfect is dreamy. So much so that, as a writer who has so effectively channeled her struggle and longing in the last years, it makes me a bit unsettled at times. Like I'm not sure what to do with all this happiness and sunshine and fresh air and smiling.

As an answer to all that shiny/happy, my first exposure to California fog rolled in about 10pm last night, just when I was heading off for my run. Damp and thick, it swallowed up all the tops of the buildings and the length of the strip malls. As I moved forward, it was eerie watching one palm tree after another apparate in  front of me and then disappear in a mist behind me. I let all the weirdness and dark settle into my bones like a familiar friend, a comforting reminder that struggle in the human condition--great and small--is always available, and that to be a good and effective literary writer doesn't always require me to pass through the struggle myself but simply to understand the truths of the human condition and convey them through character change and imagery.

I lost myself in my first marriage, in the way of writing. Not in a way that I regretted but in a way I'd not like to repeat if I don't have to. I have worked too hard over the last few years to hone my craft, produce some quality material, establish connections with other writers I deeply admire, and to publish regularly, and I would hate to lose it all now--when no one has asked me to--but simply for lack of trying to find the balance. Especially when I've never shied away from doing hard things. Although the move distanced me from a lot of what I had built up, it doesn't have to erase what I was and am still capable of. In fact, some of my all-time favorite writers and poets (Ron Carlson, Eileen Myles) live and teach just miles from me. There is much to be had here as a writer, I just have to find it.

So, for now, *I'm re-committing to dedicating a minimum of 30 minutes DAILY to writing and/or reading to improve my work. *I've found a writers group and will continue to find a place in or help to establish a writing community here.*I will apply for a scholarship to Tin House Writers Convention in July. *I will work to complete my novella, which I think represents my best writing so far, and a home for it. *And I will allow myself to be ok with being happy in my life and still being unsettled in my writing. And if the sunshine breaks through and thins all this fog out...I'll be ok with that, too.