Working from Home

I hung out my digital shingle earlier this year, and I've had pretty steady work as an editor since then.

This afternoon, I was busy editing a children's book manuscript, finishing the readthrough and then entering the line edits before sending it back to my client.

The Fries had spent most of the morning watching movies and running around in their jammies.

After they had  lunch, I let them watch one last video (The League of Incredible Vegetables) before giving them the boot to go play elsewhere in the house.

Despite getting the theme song stuck in my head (see previous post), I kept working.

Then Small Fry walked in with her baby doll that she got for Christmas.  "I tol' Lawrge Fwy dat only mommies can stop babies fwom cwying an' get 'em to sleep.  You awre Mommy."  She held out the doll.  "Can you get hewr to sleep?"

I took her dolly and started rocking it in my arms.  Small smiled sweetly and skipped out of the room.

Yes, if you must know, I kept rocking gently after Small left.

She came back about three minutes later.

"Da baby is asleep now," she told me, and held out her hands.

I returned her dolly, and whispered, "Okay.  I don't want to wake her up."

About five minutes later, Small and her baby were back.  "Lawrge was loud an' woke her up."

I gently took the baby Small held out.

"Hewr name is Honeybun," Small said seriously.

I nodded and looked down at the dolly I was once again rocking.

Then I took a picture and tweeted it on my business account.

I then propped the baby doll on my shoulder so I could still work and kept entering line edits until Famous Singer Namesake arrived, and I went to meet him out in the kitchen.

In fact, I didn't pass off the baby to Small Fry until I needed to locate a Tupperware bowl for him.

I know, I'm nuts.

But I'm a good mom.

Today's Earworm

You're welcome.

Overheard Yesterday

Hubby had apparently eaten something that refused to agree with him.  It was making itself known—how shall I put this?—in a decidedly unpleasant olfactory way.

Repeatedly.

It was to the point of almost needing a gas mask to breathe in the kitchen.

I was really ready for him to leave for work.

Needless to say, I was very careful in how I hugged him before he left.  (I didn't want to squeeze too hard.)

Small Fry was sitting on the little storage bench in the kitchen that holds hats, gloves, and mittens.

"Bye, Daddy!  I love you!" she chirped.

There was a slight pause.

"No huggies, 'cause you'wre stinky!"

Ho Ho Ho

Medium, Hubby, Large, Small, and me.

Merry Christmas from all of us!

I'm not dead.

I'm just INCREDIBLY busy.

December is usually nonstop here anyway, but between being behind on Christmas shopping and trying to catch up, working on a script for the Christmas Eve service (the worship pastor bugged me to, and he was starting to get really annoying about it...so I said I'd do it, just to shut Hubby up *wink*), Christmas cookies that needed to be baked, and then really digging into the novel I'm editing, I've been swamped.

Somebody cue Count Rugen to tell me, "Get some rest. If you haven't got your health, you haven't got anything."

The novel—all 87,000 words of it—is due back to my client at some point tomorrow, complete with markup and finalized drafts and editing report.

I'm over halfway through with entering my final line edits, which is good. This bodes well for getting it done tomorrow.

Back to work!

Literally.

We took the kids to see a local place called Tiny World, which is populated with miniature houses, shops, gas stations, schools, and churches, built by a retired gentleman who had too much time on his hands and started out with building a house for his cats.  It snowballed from there. And, at Christmastime, he decks the place out in lights.  There's (very) hot cocoa.

It's pretty cool.

Afterward, we decided to go out to eat (actually, we decided this before we left the house; both of us were still reeling from the earlier events of the day, the kids—thankfully—were blissfully unaware, and neither of us felt like cooking).  Hubby selected an Asian buffet not too far from Tiny World.  The kids have had Chinese before, so we knew we could find something they'd like.

It turned out to be a bit more daunting to find something they would all eat, but at least they ate.

As we were finishing our meal, this conversation took place, after Hubby and the Fries had returned from the dessert/salad bar area with a selection of fruit.

Hubby: Eat your orange.

Small Fry: It's yellow, not orange.

Hubby: It's an orange.

Small: But it's yellow.

Hubby: Fine. Eat your yellow.

Five minutes later...

Hubby: You can have ice cream once you eat your—

Medium: Yellow?

I can't make this stuff up.

The Inquisitor Strikes Again

Hubby and the Fries just got home from church.

I had stayed home because ... well, because my ankle is far older than the rest of me right now, and I've been in pretty severe pain for the last three days.

So.

Hubby came into our room, where I've been resting and hoping the painkillers and anti-inflammatories I was prescribed today will kick in and cut some of the fiery pain in my ankle.

And he related this conversation that occurred on the very short, four-minute drive from the church to the house:

Medium: What's Two-D's middle name?

Hubby: I don't know.

Medium: What's Sha's middle name?

Hubby: I don't know.

Medium: What's my middle name?

Hubby: Seasonal.  [It really is.  Appropriately seasonal, that is.]

Medium: Is my name Medium Seasonal HLN [Hubby's Last Name]?

Hubby: No, your name is Medium Seasonal MMN [My Maiden Name].

Medium: Why don't I have a HLN in my name?

Hubby: Well, MMN is the name you were born with.

Medium: Can I change my name?

Hubby: Well, yes, when you're old enough, you can change your name to whatever you want.

Medium: Den I'm gonna change my name to Medium HLN!

Small Fry [not to be outdone]: An' I'm gonna change mine to Liwwy!

Ooooookay...  (Admittedly, it's also the first name of one of the girls in the youth group that all the Fries adore.)

And after they came into the house, it continued:

Small: If I change my name to Liwwy, will you call me Liwwy?

Hubby: Sure.  Go get ready for bed, Liwwy.