Another day in the life of a writer
“Thanks Mom. It was delicious,” my son said after dinner. My daughter reiterated my son’s comment with her own version…
“Yeah, it was friggin’ awesome…I’m going to get some more” or something like that. Right after she finished putting the last bit of food on her plate the little man fell from his Lightening MacQueen car and busted his lip open, a big gash, so he must have bit down on his lip when he fell…Blood every where. My daughter panicking… “Mom! What is it?” while I’m rinsing his mouth out with cold water so I can see where the bleeding is actually coming from because all I can see is his little mouth filled with blood and a piece of garlic bread which is now a dark reddish color. I manage to run cold water over a washcloth to try to…and but my daughter is in panic mode. She’s a first time mother. She’s making me more and more anxious. I’m trying not to panic. Why is it so much different once you’re a grandparent? Why?
I’ve cooked dinner. Baked cookies. Washed dishes. Done laundry. Tried to fix the damn vacuum cleaner that has gone through 3 belts, 2 of which were brand new–in the past 48 hours, and I’m already at that point where all I want to do is punt it across the room. Better yet, perhaps I shouldn’t but that is exactly what I want to do. I don’t. But I do however lose my patience with my daughter who has snapped at me several times over the course of the day, and has now snapped at me several more times as I am trying to see if my grandson actually needs to go to the ER. Nevertheless, I tell her to go ahead and take him. A couple hours later she comes back and tells us that he is fine, his lip is just busted and that the DR said he didn’t need to be seen to take him home and give him some Moltrin/Tylenol.
His lip is swollen. Both his shirt and my daughter’s shirt are in the washing machine on the second wash and I used Shout… his little mouth bleed like you wouldn’t believe. I was so worried. Not just because of him, but because of my daughter. Being a first time parent is hard enough, but being a single parent makes it harder. I worry about her all the time. I worry about the both of them.
I’ve been thinking about making one of my character’s a single parent. Full-time college student. Depressed over the break up with the baby’s father, who she was with for 5 years. Based on my daughter. She is one brave cookie. Strong. Independent. Creative. Talented. I’m such a proud mother. The rest of the details will come from my imagination, and not from my daughter, but she is definitely the inspiration for the character.
Now it’s time to get out my notebook and take some notes for the character. I’m still in outlining mode. Camp NaNoWriMo doesn’t officially start until April 1st so I have plenty of time. I think I’ll call her Raven.