I am consumed by my children. Sort of like how Bella gives birth to a half-vampire offspring that eats its way out of her uterus. I'm sure there's a higher-minded literary reference, mythological or whatnot, and I should probably know, having dabbled in that realm with my own writing lately!
But anyway, I'm consumed. Early decision deadlines are creeping up on us, with essays and decisions still hanging out there, in utero, partially formed, if we keep with the metaphor. The collegiate one, living independently, unincubated, cries out for a "care package" to prove my maternal love - everyone else is getting them. FLY, little bird, FLY! Another just has to have a multi-thousand dollar mountain bike - just HAS TO in order to STAY ALIVE - understand? My failure to provide is like pushing the little runt away, all the more for the bigger, stronger, more favored ones, to hear him tell it. The youngest NEEDS to attend a two week $1500 music/theater camp which will show her how to nail auditions, play two instruments, and pave the way to stardom, whereupon, she informs me, she will move to Hollywood and never contact us again. We can follow her on Twitter. The middle kid, as usual, is no problem. He's been independent, adult and supportive since he popped out fifteen years ago. So, I haven't posted for a while.
Anyway, I'm entering a Lucky Agent contest sponsored by the Guide to Literary Agents blog (link in my blogroll below) - with the hope that the literary wonder that is my book Pantheon: Virgin Sacrifice will be discovered. Fingers crossed, so blame any typos on that.