I'd Like To Thank The Academy...

When I can't sleep at night, or when I'm waiting in line at the grocery store, or on hold with the cell phone company I mentally compose acknowledgement pages. I assume that actors write practice Oscar speeches in much the same way.

It occurred to me the other night – while pacing our bedroom at 1 AM with a teething and not sleeping Baby A – that soon I'll get to write an acknowledgements page for real. And the thought might have made me emit a wee-squee and squeeze him a bit too tight, thus waking him all-the-way up and adding another twenty minutes to my rocking him to sleep.

Of course I spent the time mentally drafting thank yous.

You'll have to wait until next fall (and buy the book) to read my for real acknowledgements with the scores of people who helped me get this far. (I love you all!) BUT – my gratitude-meter from the past seven days is currently tipped to overflowing – I need to acknowledge some of my lovelies or I'll implode from appreciation.

Thank you to:

* Everyone who offered support and congratulations – I did a little dance each time my phone buzzed with a tweet or email or phone call or Facebook post. If I could send you each a cookie and a hug, I would.

* St. Matt!

* Tiffany Emerick – librarian extraordinaire – who had my book on GoodReads within minutes of hearing the news. Thank you for accompanying me to a zillion book events over the past few years and telling me after each one That's going to be you some day.

* Scott Tracey & Courtney Summers – for being my sanity throughout this crazy process and reading countless drafts of my synopsis and bio.

* Emily Hainsworth – For… everything: wearing your lucky shamrock pj's, dog grooming whilst listening to me chatterbox, and the daily refrains of I can't wait until you're an Apocalypsie too.

* And to the Apocalypsies for being so welcoming.

* Team Sparkle for always filling my inbox full of ~*~'s and !!!'s

* Always, always to Joe Monti – the maker of dreams-come-true. Thank you for not putting me in time out for asking Can I announce yet? twelve million and two times.

* … finally, to the Schmidtlets for being ever-ready to participate in celebration dance parties, and for taking an hour-long nap so I had time to write this.

It's a WONDERFUL Thing

When I was a wee imp my father used to tuck in bed at night and sing me to sleep with:

"The wonderful thing about tiggers is tiggers are wonderful things! Their tops are made out of rubber. Their bottoms are made out of springs! They're bouncy, trouncy, flouncy, pouncy
Fun, fun, fun, fun, fun! But the most wonderful thing about tiggers is I'm the only one"

This bedtime routine often ended with us getting scolded – his choice of lullaby more likely to result in me jumping on the covers than dozing beneath them.

Lately this song has been looping through my head. I swirl and twirl and bounce the Schmidtlets around the house and improvise my own lyrics:

"The wonderful thing about book deals, is book deals are wonderful things…"

We bounce and trounce and flounce and giggle, this modified song amping up to its conclusion:

"And the most wonderful thing about book deals is your momma just got one."

I'm thrilled to announce that Agent Awesome, Joe Monti, has sold my debut novel, a contemporary YA to Emily Easton at Walker Children's for publication in Fall 2012.

When everything's going your way, you have everything to lose.  Or do you?  SEND ME A SIGN is a tragicomedy about Mia Moore, a superstitious 17 year old, who had crafted the perfect senior year – only to watch it collapse around her. This debut will take you on a Magic Eight Ball journey where the outlook appears to be not so good. Does it have a Happily Ever After? I better not tell you now…

I'm so excited to begin working with Emily and to share my book with YOU!

Have I mentioned we're bouncey, bouncey, bouncing?

A Good Life

Yesterday the boys woke up at 4:45. They were fussy all morning, feeding off my own nervous energy.

We were visiting the elementary school where I've taught for the past seven years. My first visit since I left in October to go on bed rest. My first visit with the twins. 

My first visit since resigning last month.

There were many things whirling in my mind: fears of germs, nap schedules, diaper changes, did I remember binks-Winston-Churchill-teething rings-diapers?

But my mind was most focused on how would I feel returning. Would I sit in the parking lot daunted by the eight months that have passed since I crossed that threshold? Would I feel left out, overwhelmed by all the experiences, jokes, and events I've missed while holed up with the twins? Would I remember my students' names? Would I regret my decision? Would it feel like good-bye?

When I actually pulled in the parking lot I didn't pause to feel anything. There was a stroller to unload, two sleepy babies to settle.

And it was school. My school. It was a parking lot I've crossed a thousand times, a front office I automatically pause to chat in.

School was school. It felt like I'd never left, like I could step through the door of room 202, pick up the pen on the SmartBoard and resume teaching where I left off.

Except my students are a whole lot bigger than they were eight months ago.

I loved my job. LOVED it. Adored my colleagues and felt privileged to work with the students. It challenged, inspired, energized and fulfilled me.

I will miss it.

BUT.

This morning the boys slept in, we played, cuddled and lazed around and then went to a playdate with the Schmidtlets still in their pajamas. I drove there grinning and so grateful – I love this life. Today and tomorrow and next week-month-year is a combination snow day and summer vacation.

I am so lucky. So blessed. And so thrilled to be able to stay home and saturate myself in baby love and memory-making and writing.

Asher is giggling in the baby sling while I type this. Brad is napping with Churchill and smiling in his sleep – revealing a spot of spinach I missed when wiping his face after lunch.

When he wakes up we've got a baby dance party scheduled.

I can't think of a better song than this one --