(Real quick–today’s your last day to enter the giveaway for Golden’s A Prisoner of Versailles before I draw the winner tonight!)

I know, I know. You look at the title to this post and think I’m going to talk about my kids’ propensity to lose one of each and every set of mittens in the house. And they do, I assure you. But that’s actually not my point at all. =)

On Tuesdays I take Xoe to Story Time at our Library, which she loves. It’s the usual setup–the librarian reads to them, they sing some songs, there’s a craft or snack. The past few weeks, one of the songs has made use of the felt-board and cutout paper mittens in different colors. When the song calls out the color of then mitten you have, you run up and put it on the board. Simple, right?

I’ve noticed something these last few weeks. Whenever Miss Liz says, “Put them here” and pats the board, every other child–I’m talking every . . . single . . . one–puts their colored mitten where she points. The first to get there will put it by the edge, the second (there are two of each color, go figure) right beside it.

Except Xoe.

Naturally, my little princess must be different. On Tuesday, she put her white mitten right in the middle of the board, though the first child to get there with with white put it by the edge, under the red ones, just like the librarian indicated.

I watched carefully when it was her turn again. By the time yellow was called, the board was mostly full. Again, another kid got there with yellow before her. Again, started a nice, neat row.

Where, I wondered, would my little deviant put this one? There wasn’t much room left, other than beside its match. Would she conform?

Er, no. She put it in the spot still open beside the first white one.

I nearly laughed. There it was, this lovely rainbow of mittens, surprisingly well ordered by a bunch of three-year-olds, and the only oddities in the pattern were those two mittens my daughter put up, one white, one yellow. Two bright, cheerful slaps in the face of conformity.

Now, as a mother of a preschooler, there are a lot of moments when I think, “Can’t you just do what you’re told? Please? Must you make waves? Must you do things your own way? Don’t you see that your outfit looks ridiculous, that you’ve made your ‘art’ over top of an actual picture, that you’ve undone all my cleaning by creating this ‘obstacle course’ of toys?” Especially in public. Especially around other mothers with their well-behaved children who come to the Library appropriately dressed.

But you know . . . on Tuesday, something in me cheered. Something said, “Yeah, go Xoe! Make a new pattern! Color outside the lines! Wear red and black Minnie Mouse shoes with a pink and yellow kitty-cat dress! Be you!”

Now, I would like to note that my daughter is darn good for a 4-year-old. She can color inside the lines, follow precise directions, and pick out a pattern. She can clean up her toys, pick out presentable clothes, and charm the socks off any adult she comes across.

But she can also create. She can go around for a full day, narrating a story in her mind that incorporates everything she’s actually doing. She can turn a boring tan rubber band into an intricate bracelet.

She can turn a paper mitten into a bright spot. And this mommy, who sometimes just wishes she would listen, couldn’t be more proud.

Hello, my name is Roseanna, and I am disorganized.

That’s right, I confess it. The dishes sometimes sit on the counter for a day or so. The toys lay scattered on the floor. And I flip out every day at four o’clock when I realize that yet again I have to make dinner, and I have no idea what to cook.

Now, that’s not to say I can’t be organized, in fits and starts. This week, for instance, my historical group is doing a book-in-a-week challenge, where we set writing goals and try to meet or surpass them. When we do that, I get down to business. Make sure the house is clean. Plan out the menu for the week. Make a schedule of things that must be done.

But when BIAW is over . . . yeah. It’s pretty much back to mess around here.

Not that I haven’t tried to keep it up. I have–really, truly! It’s lasted all of two, two and a half weeks before I just forget to do something or put off something else and then, poof! Two seconds later, chaos reigns. Seriously. It takes an amazing amount of diligence to keep up with all that junk, and if I falter, my kids are quick to pull out every toy, empty the cabinets of all pots and pans, and generally wreak havoc.

Generally speaking, I don’t mind this about myself, even if I am surrounded by super-organized women who love to cook and put me to shame with their neat, tidy houses (and I love you guys!!). But you know what? It’s a personality type. I’m laid back with more than my housekeeping. I’m not a worrier, I’m easygoing about people butting into my business (usually, lol). I give everyone the benefit of the doubt.

When I’m hunting down something that I’ve lost, I have been known to utter phrases like, “Why can’t I just be better organized?!” But I know my limitations, lol. I’m never going to be the type to regularly make lists, to pick up every crumb, every day. And while I might occasionally wish I did, I’ll leave that to those with the Gift of Organizing.

Me, I’ll just have to be content with pulling it off when necessary and otherwise not fretting about it. =)

GIVEAWAY REMINDER!

First, mine of Stephanie’s book from Friday–today’s the final day to enter!! Tomorrow I’ll be hosting Golden Keyes Parsons and A Prisoner of Versailles.

And for those interested in a giveaway of my A Stray Drop of Blood, there are currently three: Sandi’s, Trish’s, and Melanie’s.

Plus today I’m guest-blogging at Inkwell Inspirations about The Middle Testament. (Didn’t know there was one of those, did you?)

I will never forget my shock. There I sat, an innocent, in the admissions office at my college. All around me were the usual people that made up my day–the admissions counselors, the office manager, the director and associate director. We were minding our own business, recruiting future students for St. John’s College, a.k.a. the Great Books School. When out of nowhere, it happened. The new data manager (not an alum, let it be noted, unlike most of the employees) showed her true colors. “Tim and I are spring cleaning, and I threw out three boxes of books.”

Gasp! The horror . . . The sacrilege . . . Oh, let it not be so, let not this blasphemer be sitting two feet away from me . . .

We just stared at her in shock until she started laughing at the matching expressions on the faces of the four of us in the room. “What?” she finally asked.

I wrapped my tongue around it first. “You threw away books? And you dare to admit it here?”

Now, it’s no secret that we Johnnies are book-lovers. We make a four-year career out of collecting obscure literature, reading it, and discussing it in class. It’s what we do. In a lot of ways, it’s who we are. We are Book Lovers. We unite to sing the praises of all things bound in card stock with hotmelt and trimmed to size.

But there are those in the world who oppose our Creed. There are those who value Space and Organization above the wonder of typeset ideas. Some compromise by donating their unneeded books to good homes or libraries, which is an understandable decision. But some . . . some toss them carelessly to the side. As if they are . . . nothing! (Sob, gasp!)

Well, I am here as a safehouse. Just last night my husband erected four new four-foot shelves to hold the overflow. Now, most of these books that I so carefully placed in alphabetic order last night will not be with me forever. I am but a steward of them, seeing to their well-being until I find a good home for them, readers to devour their pages and write reviews for me. But oh, how I long to adopt them all!

In my quest to provide an island of safety for books of all kinds, I have developed several identities. I will answer to The Reviewer. The Librarian. The Bookworm. My keen ears can hear the phrase, “I need a new book to read” from a mile away, and my deft fingers will quickly pluck a selection from my shelves and deliver it to the friend or family member in need. It is not always an easy calling, but it is one I cannot ignore.

And we are training up another generation to take over our operations even now. As my itchy fingers dove into the box of books-awaiting-shelves the moment plywood touched brackets, my son and daughter were there beside me. Believing, hoping. And asking, “Mommy, do we get to keep all these books, or do we give them away?”

I caressed the spine of a novel just begging to be read. “These, sweetie, we’ll have to give away.”

A definite pout entered her tone. “But why, Mommy? Why can’t we keep them all?”

A question to bring tears to this Bookworm’s eyes. “Because, sweetie, other people need to read too. But don’t you worry. Though we send these out, new books will come in to take their places.”

I felt a little hand press against my leg. “I’ll help you Mommy. I’ll help you divide them. You just hand the non-fishing to me.” And she picked up a book with a cover that declared it non-fiction and put it in the pile for the lower shelf.

My chest swelled with pride. They’ll learn . . . and they’ll carry on. It’s what we do. It’s who we are.

We are Book Lovers.

Well, here we are on the last day of 2009. Kinda hard to believe, isn’t it? In a lot of ways, it’s been a busy year. And in some ways, I feel like I got nothing done.

What have I accomplished this year? Well, I’ve met my goal for books produced (though I didn’t set a strict one, I did finish each of the ideas I had through the year and wanted to complete). I made it back to the ACFW conference, got to hug my friends. I’ve done some organizing (that has since become disorganized again, only to be worked on again, lol), and I’ve held my own in the mommyhood thing. Got Xoe started in Story Time to get her out a bit, and I’ve done some preliminary research into schooling for her.

My career didn’t exactly take off in leaps and bounds as I had hoped it would, and that’s always sobering. But I’ve made strides there. I have an almost-contract on the line, I’ve delivered new manuscripts to my agent that she’s confident in, and of course Stray Drop went into its second printing.

I’ve also gotten terrible at finding/making time for my devotions. It’s hard, given that I used to do them in the morning, and I just don’t have mornings to myself anymore. And since Rowyn dropped his first nap, ditto on exercising.

So goals for 2010 might as well start there. My biggest goal is to keep my focus on the Lord–I know if I can do that, the rest will fall into place. Ideally I want to find time every day for my Bible, with the understanding that if I don’t, I can always find time for prayer (which I tend to forget).

I really want to get back to exercising, too. Not sure how, but hopefully Rowyn will soon be able to entertain himself for half an hour without getting under my feet.

There are a few personal goals that delve into the deep-of-the-heart stuff, like not giving into bitterness or resentment when people don’t just understand what I want and need and deliver it. Nothing makes me grumpier than falling into the “Why do I have to do everything??” way of thinking. We’re all much happier when I stave that off and focus on all the things everyone else does.

I also have some goals that are somewhat beyond my control–not beyond God’s, though, so they’re things that will be prayed heavily over. Most of these are career-oriented. I would love to have a solid contract (or two) soon. It would be awesome if Stray Drop won one of the awards I’m entering it for. And of course I’d like to produce some new books to send out into the big, bad publishing world. I want/need to find ways to get Stray Drop into the hands of more people–not just for the profit (thought it would be nice if WFP could pay off the investment they put into it, lol) but because I truly believe in the story.

Need to get back on the Christian Review of Books horse too–I’ve been neglecting that terribly. But promoting others and alerting readers to what’s available is such a rewarding calling.

We also need to pin down our exact plan for Xoe’s schooling this year. And I need to find ways to prioritize my time so that we all get what we need out of those few hours a day.

Most of all, though, I want to accomplish something for the Lord. I’m not even sure what, yet, but I intend to have a solid answer by the time my hubby asks us the question in church this weekend. =) Part of it is reaching people through my books, but that might sound self-serving to some, so . . . I don’t know. But more than anything, I want to be a beacon for Him. Which brings to mind a great quote that I think is a fabulous way to end one year and start another, with the goal of living for Him.

“There are two ways to spread light: to be the candle, or the mirror that reflects it.” ~Edith Whart

Maybe I’m not a beacon myself–but I serve the brightest light out there, and reflecting Him is an honor as well as a goal.

Happy New Year, everyone! — Oh! And don’t forget to drop by every Friday (and some Tuesdays) from now on for author interviews! A lot of them will include giveaways to people who comment, so you won’t want to miss it! We start tomorrow with Linore Rose Burkard, who writes “Inspirational Romance for the Jane Austen soul.” Great stuff!!

I decided to post today solely that I could copy my friend’s idea from her blog yesterday and chat about some of my favorite Christmas things. =)

I have so many fabulous memories surrounding the holidays, but one of my favorites is from the first year my grandmother came to stay with us on Christmas Eve. That meant Jen and I shared a room that night, and we both well before the agreed-upon time with our parents. For a while we just lay there and talked, but then we decided we’d just get up, plug in the tree, and wait. My sister went to the door, opened it–and ran smack into Mom, who was leaning on the doorframe. Jen shrieked, screamed “Busted!” slammed the door in Mom’s face, and jumped back in bed. Which wouldn’t have been nearly so hilarious had we not been 15 and 18 at the time. =) Our mom was laughing too, not actually mad. We come from a family of very-anxious-Christmas-ers. (My husband does not. There was a bit of compromise necessary when we got married, lol.)

Anyway. I love the old Christmas songs, especially the hymns. Though in college and made a collection of jazzy, swingy versions of the popular songs, and those are fun too. =)

I love all the lights. So magical . . .

I love the baking, and the eating what’s been bakes. 😉

I love those times when I’ve thought up exactly the right present for someone, and the way they thrill when they open it.

I love sitting back and reflecting on the miracle of that first Christmas.

And now I’m going to go cuddle my kiddos, get some coffee, and enjoy my Christmas Eve. Merry Christmas, everyone!

I had the pleasure of spending last weekend with some of my dearest friends. It’s kind of funny. When I’m with both of them at the same time, it inevitably makes me think about who I am as compared to who they are. For all the things we have in common, there are so many things in which we’re different too. These are two young women I admire so very much, and sometimes it’s easy to focus on the things they do that I just can’t.

Last weekend, I wrote something that was a result of those thoughts, exhaustion, and a headache, lol. Not my usual chipper stuff, but there are some great lines in it. 😉

I have all these ideals in my head. I would love to be the woman who makes every single dish absolutely from scratch–no box mixes, no store-bought canned goods, no pre-packaged frozen dishes.

But I’m not that woman.

I would love to sew things myself, make toys for my children with my own hands, and fashion my house with tender skill and precision.

But I’m not that woman.

I would love to be the woman so proactive that she takes command of her own well-being, of her pregnancies, of her children’s health and stands up to the system when the system is set on following a pre-determined course that doesn’t allow for individuality. Who educates herself on every facet of her world.

But I’m not that woman.

I would love to be so focused on my children that I have their schooling all planned out, that I know already what the goals would be, that I could use my time toward their education. I wish I sat down with them every day and focused totally on them, on their growth, on their learning.

But I’m not even that woman.

I would love to exist in a world where I didn’t need a watch or a clock but could just eat when I am hungry, sleep when I am tired, rise when I am refreshed, and work when inspiration struck.

But that’s not my world.

I love being a writer, a wife, a mommy. Sometimes it just feels like I can’t be everything well. Sometimes it feels more like I’m defined by what I’m not.

I’m not a cook. I’m not green. I’m not crafty. I’m not a clothes-maker or a toy-maker. I’m not a teacher. I’m not a world unto myself. I’m just a woman with a dream and a family trying to make the two work together. I’m a woman with not enough hours in the day and even fewer in the night. I’m a woman in a world of squeals and tugs and TV–and of laughs and kisses and hugs.

I’m a woman torn, but a woman who can see the beauty in the pieces. A woman who sees that there are holes and recognizes that they’re just part of the filigree of God’s craftsmanship.

I’m a woman who isn’t.

But I’m a woman who is.

~*~

Don’t forget to comment for a chance to win Stray Drop at Stephanie’s blog!