Confession time. I did not win NaNoWriMo. I didn’t even enter.
That doesn’t mean I didn’t write. In the first week of MoFoWriMo, I whittled down six months of research and 25,000 words of rough drafts into an hour long script that will be performed this Friday night. Published, performed, proud. InYoFaceHo.
First week was also WhoaTwoKidSho, in which both older boys had concerts– they rocked– and brought home all As and Bs on their report cards. WayToGoBros.
Second week was OhNoFluMo. We all had it, but not all at the same time. So polite, the way everyone took turns. It was also PoWriSubMo, during which two poems were written and submitted. Wish me luck.
Third week: CroSewPatMo, in which I crocheted this boss skull, stitched a fine Thanksgiving table runner FoMyMomO, and began drafting patterns for Christmas craftiness. There’s MoToZirro than just crafting sentences.
Speaking of Thanksgiving, PunkShoCookMo was so successful last week, I was inspired to write a drunken haiku:
A dad-cooked meal. Sweet
Boys with mouths stuffed say, “Thanks, Mom.”
You’re welcome. Cheers, Punk.
Have a few glasses of wine. Trust me, it will BloYoMind-O.
The final week of FunSnowPlayMo has been a
fiasco festival of kidcentric goodness. Just when I felt like screaming “NoMoFunBros! ShutYoPieHole! NowYoRoomGo!” because five days off is entirely too much togetherness, too much competition for the computer, too much ‘fun’ … they all settled down, formed an alliance and built this awesome Lego zipline, running the entire length of the house.
UpYoHooHa, NaNoWriMo. Around here it’s FamSoCoolMo.