So remember a couple of weeks back, when I said I had to go do my first big work thing since the baby was born? Well, now I can tell you it was an interview with Publisher’s Weekly, which I was totally nervous about. I mean, here I am, having done hardly anything other than hang out with Sasha for five months, and suddenly I have this great opportunity to go out to lunch and talk about Lock and Key. So I found my favorite jeans and a clean shirt, put all my stuff in something OTHER than the diaper bag (a huge deal) and put on nice shoes, and off I went. And I’m so glad I did, because this is a very nice piece. And it doesn’t even mention that I MAY have had spit up in my hair that I wasn’t aware of. Which is also huge.
Equally big: in this same issue, Lock and Key got a STARRED REVIEW! Which is so wonderful, I can’t even tell you. Of course, like any writer, I try not to put too much weight on reviews, but come on. It’s Publisher’s Weekly! So that’s a nice vote of confidence. I think I will eat some cookies to celebrate. Or maybe some leftover Valentine’s chocolates. Or maybe both.
Meanwhile, here on the homestead, the big news is that Sasha can now roll over from her back to her stomach. The only problem? She hasn’t quite figured out how to roll BACK over, which means that sometimes, during naps or at night, she gets on her stomach, wakes up, and freaks out when she realizes she’s stuck. I’ve been getting up to go flip her over, but I have a feeling that is entirely too codependent, and I should probably just leave her to figure it out for herself. But I can’t STAND to see her stuck like that, turning her head from side to side, growing more and more frantic. It hits me in every single bone of my own anxiety-ridden body. My mother says that this is normal, and only lasts for a little while, and soon she’ll figure it out. But I keep looking ahead to all the other times I’ll want to step in and help her, make things easier, even when maybe I shouldn’t. Man, this motherhood thing is a heartbreaker. No joke.
Okay. Enough neurosis. Bring on the celebratory desserts!