Lazy Saturday

We spent Saturday afternoon coloring the driveway with chalk while listening to music and playing with caterpillars Elyse found in the ditch/meadow. I didn't clean my house and I didn't get any work done on the basement other than moving the freezer (although I did watch Matt add laminate track and somehow we still went to bed at midnight). What an awesome lazy day.

Pics at the crayon Park

I did my first real photo shoot for one of my visiting teachees this last Saturday. She chose this scary park on the scary side of town, so I took the kids a day early to scout it out for spots to shoot and for shadows and stuff. The unmown, weedy park actually turned out pretty cool. Here's a couple practice shots with my kids and a couple of my friend's kids.

First Grade Plays

This week we watched Paul perfrom "the boy" in the Gingerbread man. He did a great job memorizing his lines and speaking loud. I totally lucked out because the boy didn't require a special costume--he just had to look like a boy, which was prety easy.

Hope is a painful thing

I submitted a story today to the Writer's Digest annual writing competition. It's a national contest that gets a ton of publicity--and thousands of submissions. I do this for the experience and not really with any expectations. Okay, that's a lie. There's a small flicker--the barest glimmer--of a hope of placing in the top ten of my category. But with such a big pond of talented people, it is highly unlikely. But deep within me there's a tiny voice that says "What if?" What if someone thinks you're good enough this time around. What if years of trying to better yourself pays off this one time? What if? Oh little hopeful voice, you hurt me sometimes. I've developed a rather tough skin over the past four years, but there's always a little hurt with every rejection, always a little doubt over your abilities, and hope almost dies out completely. Sometimes, I think, good, let it die. It doesn't hurt when you don't put yourself out there. I should quit wasting my time. Three timest his past year I've told Matt I'm quitting and opened up the computer to write my resignation letter to my critique group. But for some reason I can't let go. I'm not sure if this hobby is a "best" thing I should be pursing or just a "good" thing to be doing. I'm not sure I'll ever be good enough. I'm not even sure why I do it because it brings me such little joy. I guess I want my kids to see that I'm still trying to grow and to learn. I guess it's something that's mine aside from being a mom. Anyway, I did it. It's in. Now there's a super long wait until winners are posted the end of October. In the mean time, the same story is out to a publisher who expressed interest at first, but then I haven't heard anything from them in two months. Because of different rights, I'm able to keep subbing the story to different places even though it's been entered in a contest. It's kind of a personal story and I'm a little afraid of feedback this time, just because it's a tale that hits close to home. Wish me luck.

In the Minority

I helped at a teacher's luncheon at the elementary school yesterday. Sometimes I get a true taste of what it's like being a minority--especially when I show up at my kids' school. We live in an area where healthcare is the biggest industry and most of our doctors in town come from India or somewhere in the middle east. All the ladies helping with the luncheon are from Pakistan. I felt strangely immodestly dressed in my shorts cut off two inches below my knee and my three quarter length sleeves in comparison to the women wrapped from head to toe in flowing robes and dark head scarves. I could tell they were trying to use English around me--a language they have mastered--but they flew in between their native tongue and mine so easily and quickly I could scarcely keep up with the conversation sometimes. Nice, nice ladies, though. Completely devoted to their children and their school. I came away feeling like the mom who never participates in any part of my kids' education--however, I realize I have twice as many kids so that makes it harder. They were obviously all friends, so I appreciated them trying so hard to ask about my kids and giving me a job to do. I even found out two live in the next subdivision over. Turned out to be a fun afternoon and an eye opener about how non members must feel coming to church. Everyone understands the mormon language and everyone is friends. I can at least go out of my way when new people show up to help them feel included.