Okay, so I know I said monthly... and I know I've been awful... and this probably won't be any better because they've changed blogger in my absence and now the screen looks all funny and I'm not sure what I'm doing... but anyway...
To round up the last few months... it is probably best to categorise things, isn't it?
First of all: Writing.
Book Six, or 'What Becomes of the Broken Hearted?' is done - bar the copy edits and will be in the shops (all being well, no floods/ famines/ world wars etc) at the end of August. The lovely people at Poolbeg have even furnished me with a cover which is divine and actually you would have thought they had read my minds because it suits the book perfectly.
I'm starting work on Book Seven, which has no firm name yet (did toy with 'The Heart of Me' but that was down to a pretty naff and shite session listening to Whitney Houston songs and feeling nostalgic and, out of context of a Whitney Houston song it doesn't actually make much sense, does it? ). I am finding it hard to get into writing this book but that could be because I have the fear.
This is my last book in contract with Poolbeg - I do not know what the future holds. So writing it feels a bit scary and intimidating and I feel it has to be really stand out. So no pressure there then? So far I've written three different starts - each of them will weave their way into the finished product. I'm just not sure how and what structure I'm going to take. (Dear agent if you are reading this, I am actually working, honest...)
Second of all: family.
I remember when my children were younger and at that very demanding "do it all for me" stage I thought life would be so much easier when they got bigger and a little more independent. I remember thinking I'd have bags of free time to do whatsoever I wished. This is not true. This is a big fat con. If anything the older they get the more demanding they get. Like, they want you wash more clothes. And cook them dinners not out of jars. (I never was an uber mammy) and drive them places, or help them with *horrors* homework. I'm also at that delightful toddler stage with the girl where I must answer approximately 5000 questions an hour. The call of "Why-ah?" happens a lot. (I do not know why she adds 'ah' to the end of lots of her words, but she does Why-ah, No-ah, yes-ah etc) There are times I have patience x a million with this. There are times when I wish to shout "I don't effin' know-ah". (Not that I would swear in front of my kids... of course....erm....).
But that aside - God they are some craic. The boy made his first communion on Saturday past and we had a brilliant day. I was not expecting to be so emotional with it all, but I did have to blink back tears a few times (not least because I'd had my make up done by a proper make up girl and I didn't want to ruin it).
The wee doll, as she is now known, is developing her own character more and more each day. Favourite part of the day, bar none, when she snuggles down to me in the evenings and tells me I'm her teddy bear. Bless her wee heart).
Third of all: The mental-ness
Hate to tempt fate, but it's okay, ish. As long as I remember to keep busy and take my tablets and when the crappy days come remind myself that it will pass. There are still times I am just so completely and utterly fed up with it. There are still times when I can be fine one minute and then feel horrendous the next, out of nowhere. But I think maybe I'm being a little more accepting of it? Fighting it made it worse. I need to fight to get better - I need the energy to put into that instead of refusing to accept all is not well in the first place.
Does that make sense? It kind of does in my head.
Fourth of all: The loveliness.
Folks... in BIG GIANT NEWS have spoken with Marian Keyes on Twitter. And she didn't tell me to feck off. Which was lovely of her. Twitter is a lovely place to be - why not visit and follow me @claireallan
Finally: Random Conversations with the Boy/ Girl
The Boy: To a picture of his late grandma: "You're my favourite person who died in the 90s".
The Girl: In chapel at the First Holy Communion, at a moment of silence and great solemnity, as loud as she could manage: "Mammy, how do babies get in your tummy". Followed by. "I need to a poo".
Ah, pride doesn't come close!
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