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Sleeps Like a Baby

Posted on by Beth Hull

A very quick post.

1) How is it that when I stick Maverick in his crib and I lie down in my bed, every tiny little snort and gurgle keeps me awake?

2) And how is it that I just put him down for a nap to the lullaby of jackhammers in the street outside our house?

3) Why do I make Z tiptoe around the house when he’s asleep?

4) Will I ever exercise again?

5) Will I ever sit down and work on a novel again?

6) Will my house ever be if not clean, then moderately less filthy again?

IDK for 1-3. YES for 4 and 5. HAHAHAHAHA NO for 6.

The Summer Gift Fairy

Posted on by Beth Hull

It’s 8:56 a.m. and the Summer Gift Fairy has struck again.

She left a little prezzie for Z on the front step, this one in a purple-paisley-embossed box with a sparkly note attached, reading,

Dear Z,

Do you believe in fairies yet?

I hope you’re having a good summer!

Love,

The Summer Gift Fairy

P.S. I live in a tree!

Her last missive’s postscript revealed that she has blue and silver wings.

Every time she hits our doorstep, I get to watch Z’s excitement. Every time I say, “Oh, that prezzie could be for Maverick,” but every time Z shakes her head. She knows the prezzie’s for her. Her joy is my joy.

What’s striking to me is that each gift gifted by the Summer Gift Fairy can be used in some way. I’m not saying the Summer Gift Fairy’s all about work, and projects, and KEEPING AN ACTIVE ALMOST-FOUR-YEAR-OLD BUSY WHILE HER MOM SLOWLY LOSES HER MIND, but the possibility’s there. Today’s gift was three new shapes to be used with perler beads. If that isn’t quiet, busy work, I don’t know what is.

I love that Summer Gift Fairy.

I also love that she doesn’t have any pattern. Each day has the possibility of a gift, but Z isn’t expecting gifts. She’s just delighted when they happen to arrive.

Now if only the Summer Gift Fairy would gift me with some good sleep and quiet time.

Happy Times!

Posted on by Beth Hull

How many nights did I lie awake, imagining an agent emailing or calling to tell me she loved my book and wants to sell it for me?

Countless nights, that is the answer. Depending on how tired I was, I could adjust the daydream’s level of detail. If I wasn’t tired at all, I might see the words of the email outlining every feature the agent loved about my book, then segue into how I’d tell my friends and relatives, and then get to the part where I actually speak to the agent on the phone. If I was pretty tired, I might only get as far as opening an email that said, “Yes, I want YOU!”

But these were all just that – daydreams.

So when it actually happened, it was eerie, I tell you. Sure, at first there was gasping, and phone calls, and dancing.

And then…there was calm. And silence. And waiting to wrap up the handful of outstanding queries I had.

I’ve been sitting on this exciting news for a week, and am thrilled to finally announce:

Brandi Bowles, with Foundry Literary + Media, is now my literary agent!

(It kind of feels like announcing an engagement, or, if that analogy sounds too big, maybe a date to the (VERY IMPORTANT, VERY COOL) prom. One I couldn’t have gone to without her.)

“How I Got My Agent” blog posts seem to be very popular, but I don’t have time for that today. Maybe some other time. No promises, though. It’s the last week of Z’s school, Maverick’s seven weeks old, and I’ve got some revisions to do over the summer. Busy times! But happy.

ETA: My detailed post can be found here.

Postpartum Barbie

Posted on by Beth Hull

My little Maverick is one month old.

I can’t help but compare him to Z when she was an infant. And it isn’t fair to either of them. But briefly:

THIS IS A WHOLE LOT EASIER.

It’s harder in many ways. Juggling two little people instead of one. Trying to get Maverick to sleep when Z’s running around the house. Making Mom-and-Z time so Z doesn’t feel left out.

But this baby actually sleeps on his own, and when he cries he doesn’t sound pissed off like Z did.

Summer will be a whole other animal – Z won’t be in school and I’ll have them both. Together. All. Day. Long. But I have a couple more weeks of just me and my little dude during the day, and I plan to enjoy them.

Fortune Cookie, 3:40 a.m.

Posted on by Beth Hull

As many people in my online writing circles already know, I gave birth to Maverick (that’s his code name, not his real name) early Thursday morning. My water broke a little after midnight, and four hours later I had a new baby! (Like it’s that easy. And didn’t involve lots of shouting and disillusionment and internal requests for a cesarean section and/or lots of drugs. But I didn’t say those out loud. Mostly I said, “Get it OUT!” and “I’m never doing this again!”) (God bless patient nurses.) (Who are probably investing in ear plugs, if they haven’t already lost their hearing.)

Z is doing great with Maverick, she just LOVES him, wants to pet and kiss him all the time. And poke his little eyes – I don’t know what that’s about. (Actually, I have a few guesses. It’s hard sharing Mommy and Daddy.)

For some reason, his cry doesn’t bother me as much as Z’s did. Maybe because it’s a different pitch (he sounds like a baby pterodactyl, or, as Homes said, a Swainson’s Hawk). Or because his scrunchy little face looks so funny when he does it. I feel kinda bad, because sometimes I laugh when he cries.

He’s still learning the difference between nocturnal beings (creatures that are awake at night, i.e. NOT US) and diurnal beings (creatures that are awake in the day and sleep at night, i.e. US), so I’ve been awake a lot at night. Once, on a trip through the kitchen for ibuprofin, I spotted a bag of fortune cookies. And thought. 3:40 a.m. Not a bad time for a fortune cookie. I wish I could say the fortune was something illuminating and dreamy and perfect for my situation, but I think it was actually about riches coming my way next month.

And that’s okay. Because not everything is illuminating, or dreamy, or perfect. Sometimes things scream, and don’t sleep when (or where) they’re supposed to. We love them anyway.