Jason Writes Every Day In November In His Blog Instead of Trying The Impossible Task of Writing A Novel In A Month: November 1

November 1:

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There we go, that’s Day 1, in the books. I wrote something. I mashed the keyboard.

Okay fine I’ll write some actual human language.

Let’s start with this: there’s a dog crate in the corner of the living room.  It’s about 4 feet tall and 4 feet long and a couple feet wide. Our living room is, at a conservative estimate, 6 square feet? That can’t be right. This thing takes up a significant amount of room. Inside, there is a dog bed. This dog bed is where our Future Dog Who Is Probably Going To Be Named Luna is going to sleep when she arrives in 2 and a half weeks.

I hazily recall, back in the days when Sara was pregnant and we had no earthly idea of what having children was like, when we slept more and Did Things That We Can No Longer Recall in the evenings that didn’t involve collapsing on a couch/bed and waiting for the sweet too-short release of sleep, that we used to say things to each other like, “There’s gonna be a baby here! It will be small and cry and need us to keep it alive!” It was this very real but equally abstract Baby Event that was going to happen. And then there was a crib, and then a mattress for the crib, and then baby toys, and more and more physical proof of the imminent Baby Event. And then Ethan did a poo in the womb, and he was c-sectioned outta there, and ever since I’ve been in an ongoing fugue state during which we had a second child. Now, every day I wake up and find that there are children in the room upstairs that I find I have a tremendous amount of love for and figure I should take care of, at least for the day, until I figure out how they got here and who they belong to. Pictures and videos purport to show that I have been taking care of these children all the while. There they are in nappies. There they are dancing to In The Hall of the Mountain King. There’s Rose sulking in a corner because we laughed at her sulking when she wasn’t in a corner.

And now, the cycle has begun again. “There’s gonna be a puppy here soon!”  Here’s the dog crate, the puppy bed, the collar, the plastic bone. Here is Rose’s baby blanket – which Rose still refers to as, “My baby blankah!” – repurposed for Luna.

We weren’t ready for the children, but no one’s ever ready. By the time they have graduated from university, I think I’ll be on the cusp of being ready. So, when I say I’m not ready for Luna, that puts her in good company. We’ve kept the children alive and loved and fed for the last 6 and 4 years. We can handle a little furry thing, one day at a time.