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Category: It Was Awesome

This is Big

Note: My apologies in advance, you guys. Might want to get two cups of coffee for this one, because it’s really, really long. I’m sorry, but I can’t help it. I talk a lot when I get excited. Two years ago, I decided to take the challenge of National Novel Writing Month–NaNoWriMo–and write a 50,000 page book during the month of November. I was writing already, but I needed a focus, something that was so big of a challenge (a novel in a month? Why not?!) it seemed almost impossible. Quinn wasn’t yet six months old. I think she was sleeping through the night. All I remember is being really, really tired, sitting in front of the computer until about 11:30 every night, and the gigantic mound of laundry piled up on the couch beside me. The end result, which made me so happy to complete, was straight-up terrible. The book, I mean, not the laundry. The laundry’s always terrible. One year later, after stripping that glob of words down to its basic framework and building it back up to about 70,000…

God and Shrimps

Every night at bedtime we say prayers with the girls.  Quinn gets all into it, excited to shout “Amen!” like no one I’ve ever heard in any of the buttoned-down churches I’ve ever attended.  Saoirse rolls her eyes the entire time she’s making the sign of the cross (kind of like her non-Catholic father! Hey-oh!  No, just kidding. Sometimes I think he’s the best Catholic in the house), but goes through the motions because dammit we are raising her right and she WILL do this. No?  That’s not how you ingrain a sense of faith?  Well. We rolled in from the beach at 11:15 Friday night, a day early, because we are crazy fools and wanted to be home to catch Notre Dame’s season opener at 9-are-you-kidding-me-o’clock in the morning.  Oh, and apparently because pregnant ladies can actually hallucinate when they’re sleep-deprived and I wanted to see what that was like (not kidding.  More on that at some point).  We’d eaten dinner in Rehobeth at the most fantastic oyster house…

Morning, Beachside

The dappled sunlight was growing brighter through the thin white cotton curtains, dancing on the powder blue walls of the room.  David had already gotten up, leaving me to wake on my own in the silence of the early morning.  Both girls appeared beside me, asking to climb into bed. Saoirse:  “Can you you help me?” Quinn:  “I want down.  HELP.” I was on my side, eyes still half-closed, as the girls played beside me on the mattress with the new cars they’d gotten as souvenirs.  Saoirse was sprawled against my legs.  Quinn sat at my head, her little toes resting against my arms, driving her train in and out of the tunnel she’d made under the sheet.  The room was quiet save for the girls’s questions about their cars and the sounds of the wheels rolling over the bedspread.  It was 6:45 in the morning, on the fifth day of our vacation.  We had nowhere to go in a hurry.  Orange juice was waiting for them in the fridge. The sun grew brighter against the sky blue of the walls, and I closed my eyes again, listening…