December: A month of birth, literally

Please do excuse me, loyal followers, for not posting on my blog in over a month. My baby turned one, my husband turned (ahem…42…sorry honey!) and my other daughter turned 8, all within a week of the wackiest month of the year–December! Not to mention the little thing called Christmas on the heels of all of the family birthdays. It’s Merry Birthmas! Or Happy Christday! I can’t keep track. Children out of school, writing and sending Christmas cards, last minute shopping, turning the $#%@*& window candles and tree lights on and off…I am not feeling festive right now. I am feeling achy and cranky and Scroogy and I just want the whole month over with already. Mrs. Claus is whipped!

Ah, December…I used to love you, oh fair month of holly and mistletoe and Santa and egg nog. You were so lovely to me, so generous and kind-spirited. Plump and jolly and easy–a break from the rigors of life, a light in the darkness. No month has ever been more wonderful to me, and I remember you fondly. But what happened to us, what broke us so far apart? It wasn’t you…it was me. I didn’t plan my family properly, it seems. I never did understand the timing of the sperm and egg and all that fallopian tube mumbo-jumbo. And look what happened because of my ignorance…two children in December! I should have paid more attention in the early spring, when it seems my body is the most ready to make another human being. I cherish my children, of course. But I’d be perfectly happy to swap them out for children born in, say, May…May is lovely. And far enough away from December that I would have gotten my sanity back. And my hangover would have subsided.

But my trusty brain has kept working, even though I haven’t done much writing on the sequel this month. My mind actually percolates best when I’m not actively writing, I’ve found, like a coffee pot in the mysterious dark of an early morning (nice one, right?) . The trick is to relax about the not writing, to just accept that sanity will be had the first of January, that writing will flow once more and please don’t panic, Diann. When I walk (my daily exercise is walking at a good clip  40 minutes through my neighborhood pushing the baby in the jogger stroller while leading the dog on a leash), writing ideas pop into my mind  unbidden, little Christmas presents from my brain. Listening to music, reading fiction, driving, playing with my hyped-up children–these activities also give me ideas when I least expect them. And that is a joyful feeling, to realize that my brain continues to go on with the hard work of writing ficiton. I may not be actually writing, but I’m doing somthing much more important–dreaming, perservering, hoping, even though life is a hazy blur of red and green and tinsel.

Which brings to mind that December is a month of birth, of miracles, of quiet joy…Merry Christmas (or Happy Christday!) to my friends, followers and family. May the month and the new year bring you an unanticipated birth of something you will cherish for a long time to come!


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