Sleepless Nights

Author: Veronica

  • Evelyn hams it up

    This is Evelyn this morning frustrated because she’s an almost-toddler and toddlers are easily frustrated:

    Evelyn Sad

    And this is Evelyn five seconds later after I showed her the photo I took of her crying:

    Evelyn happy, sees camera

    Because it turns out, when you’re almost thirteen months old, hamming it up for the camera is great fun.

    Give me an angry face Evelyn.

    017

    You’re trying? I don’t believe you. Are you a happy baby? Show me happy?

    018

    Okay. You need to work up to it. That’s okay, I’ll wait.

    021

    I know I’m silly. You don’t have to tell me. Am I embrarassing you Evelyn? Is face pulling and camera dancing SO last month?

    015

    There’s the happy baby. Thank you.

  • Maybe I should get another cat

    Two Days Ago:

    “So, honey. There’s another cat hanging around.”

    “How do you know?”

    “I saw him of course.”

    “Him?”

    “Well it’s ginger. I’m assuming it’s a boy.”

    “You are not allowed to keep this one.”

    “I’m sorry, but if it’s in my yard, hungry and cold, I’m going to feed it.”

    “How do you know it’s hungry? It might be an accomplished hunter.”

    “He was trying to catch a chicken. They had him bailed up against the side of the shed. He obviously wasn’t counting on our attack chickens.”

    “Do not feed it.”

    “Too late. Anyway, I’m almost sure it won’t come back.”

    “But you FED it.”

    “Yeah. I seem to be like a magnet for stray cats. I’m still almost sure that it won’t come back.”

    This morning:

    “Your cat is back.”

    “The ginger one?”

    “Yep. I just saw it run across the yard.”

    “Well, I’d best go put some food down. He’s probably hungry again.”

     

  • A new camera body

    Frosty morning 019

    I bought a new camera body, as a balm for my shattered soul.

    Or more likely, I bought a new camera body because my old one was having a hard time actually focusing, or taking crisp images, or rendering the colours properly. I’d clicked it out, and it was slowing down, frustrating me. Once I got frustrated, I just stopped picking it up and hello, there goes my creativity down the drain.

    There was a frost this morning and I wandered around, taking photos, reminded of the fact that it had been months since I tried to take a proper photo.

    Hello, creativity.

    I’m coming back.

    I wrote my novel outline, mapping out each chapter. I sent it to two people, and then made Nathan read it. I’m working again, writing again, taking photos again.

    Hello happiness.

  • On Alfred.

    Alfred

    This is Alfred.

    Some of you will know Alfred as the half dead, starved kitten that showed up on my property a few months back. Today, Alfred is sporting the beginnings of a double chin and enough personality to fill a large room.

    He adores Evelyn. Mostly because she smells milky and delicious. She sticks her fingers in his mouth and he bites them. She tastes good, apparently. He’s a little bit psycho, and will occasionally wrap himself around my ankle and for no good reason attempt to kill my foot.

    Alfred has taken to exploring on top of my bathroom cupboards, knocking things to the floor, at which point he’ll run away and pretend he was never there. That’s where he was when I took this photo.

    As soon as I get my boobs out to breastfeed Evie, Alfred is there, wiggling between us. He thinks breastfeeding smells really interesting and sometimes he’ll even let Evie pat him as she feeds. Mostly he bites her though. Which doesn’t stop her patting him. I tried squirting him with milk once, when he had driven me mad and distracted Evelyn over and over. I got him right in the eye. He wasn’t fazed and I don’t think it helped.

    He loves me, a lot. If I’ve got an empty lap, he’ll sit in it. He’ll sit on my keyboard to stop me typing, He’d be bothering me right now, except he heard Amy roll over in bed a few minutes ago and raced down there to sleep on her tummy.

    Alfred drools when you pat him. This is kind of gross. I warn people, but it doesn’t stop him pushing under their hands for affection and then drooling on their legs. Before he showed up here, we don’t think he’d ever been touched with affection. Now he’s addicted.

    He went to the vet a fortnight ago and came home missing his testicles. He stalked around the house for three days looking offended and pointedly licking himself. I’d hoped it would curb the biting/killing/wild behaviours, but no luck. It’s okay though, because he tries to hunt mice.

    Mostly I keep cats because they’re useful. They’re soft to pet, they kill pests and they make sure that I never ever look too clean or well put together. But Alfred, I like Alfred. He has personality, and I like to think that he has a little bit of extra gratefulness to me for saving him.

  • A return to creativity.

    Last November, I participated in NaNoWriMo, writing 60k words of a novel in 30 days. It was hard, but rewarding and amazing at the same time. Sleepless Nights spent the month being neglected as I swapped my time between my novel, a tiny Evelyn, and everything else.

    It wasn’t long afterwards that PND took up residence inside my psyche, making everything more difficult than it needed to be. I started meds, which saved my sanity and my marriage. Meds however, killed my creativity, even once I’d adjusted to them. I could still write, but it was harder to think of ideas and fiction was completely beyond me.

    A little while ago, I tapered down my meds, before stopping entirely. I stayed on the meds until they began to make me feel the same way PND did.

    This morning, I stood in the shower and had multiple ideas for what I wanted to write today. It had been months since I managed any good shower ideas, and honestly, I was so relieved to have my brain back – both from PND and from meds. I’ve also managed to cook again.

    I missed this part of me.

    Yesterday I pushed myself out of my comfort zone and wrote a flash fiction piece in response to a writing challenge. It was scary to write fiction again and scarier to publish it and share the link. But creativity is a great and scary thing.

    I’m pushing myself. I’m coming back.

    It feels good.