Has it really been that long?
13 weeks. 92 days.
A lot can happen in three months.
You can sign a book deal with Velvet Morning Press to publish your first novel.
You can awaken the following day and discover you’re still a woman with laundry to fold and dishes to scrape and chin hairs.
You can throw a Sweet Sixteen party to celebrate your daughter on the 4th of July but you call it a Happy Birthday Everyone party because your son also has a birthday this summer and three of your daughter’s friends also have birthdays this summer and your friend’s boyfriend’s twins also have birthdays this summer and they are all at your daughter’s party but it is also America’s birthday (every summer) and your daughter doesn’t like attention (ever).
You can adopt a puppy so that the number of dogs in your house (three) exceeds the number of adults (two) and children (two).
You can sit in the passenger seat while your daughter drives you to her behind-the-wheel test.
You can pretend to be thrilled when she becomes a licensed driver.
You can watch her drive away without an adult in the car and you can try not to worry.
You can worry.
You can acknowledge that your son has turned 18 without even asking if that’s okay with you.
You can deny that the number of adults in your house actually equals the number of dogs.
You can curse math.
You can help your son fill out his first college application.
You can freak when you realize his first college application is for a school 1,925.2 miles away.
You can message your blog friend and ask her, “How cold does it really get in Minnesota?” and she will promise she won’t let your son get frostbite and she will tell you to buy him mittens because they are warmer than gloves and she will also offer you a place to stay for a visit if the time comes.
You can decide your blog friends are still there for you and always awesome even though you haven’t written a new post in 61 days.
You can rejoice that you didn’t send your son to kindergarten until he was six so you are filling out college applications instead of dropping him off at college. (Note to self: One year to buy mittens.)
You can hire a College Financial Advisor for better financial planning in Scottsdale, because you remember you never saved money for college.
You can visit a winery with your husband after your first College Financial Planning meeting because maybe you can’t afford to pay for both your kids to go to college but you can afford a single glass of Cabernet Sauvignon.
You can realize you’re writing your post in a list format and feel like a hypocrite.
You can pause and drink another cup of coffee to get over the hypocrisy (caffeine is good for this and so is Cabernet Sauvignon but not at nine o’ clock in the morning).
You can receive from your publisher (at five o’clock one morning when you’re awake with the puppy) a preliminary picture of the book cover for your first novel.
You cannot stop staring at it.
You can remember that in between folding laundry, scraping dishes, and plucking chin hairs you have signed a book deal for your first novel and that your deadline for submitting your revised manuscript is September 1.
You can work endlessly on revising your manuscript because you understand for the first time that these are the ACTUAL WORDS PEOPLE WILL READ when they buy your book.
You can panic that people won’t buy your book.
You can panic that people will buy your book.
You can think about these people, the ones who have encouraged you over the years and proclaimed you are a great writer and cheered you on and crossed their fingers and hoped with you and prayed for you.
You can picture them opening your book and reading THE ACTUAL WORDS and loving them.
You can picture them opening your book and reading THE ACTUAL WORDS and being disappointed.
You can panic again.
You can breathe then and remind yourself that, in the grand scheme of things, a disappointed reader is not the worst thing in the world and it’s a much bigger deal that your son turned 18 and is applying to colleges and that your daughter turned 16 and is a licensed driver and that your three-month-old puppy is close to sleeping through the night (which is a much bigger deal at five in the morning when you are sleep-deprived) and that at least you can still afford a glass of Cabernet.
You can almost forget what you were panicking about.
Was it chin hair?
WHAT WERE YOU PANICKING ABOUT?
A lot can happen in three months.
p.s. I promise to share details about my upcoming book when I can. In the meantime, enjoy this picture of Scout sleeping in Jack’s shoe.