Proof that life goes on...

Hello everyone. Have I got a story to tell you. We have all heard the saying that life goes on, well I have proof it's true. Anyone who follows my contest blog or me on Twitter knows that I received a very exciting email yesterday. In a previous post I told everyone about the email I received from a producer asking me about film rights and a copy of my book. Well, I got another email last night from her. She said my story was wonderful and requested my home phone number so she could call and talk to me about it.

A million thoughts went through my head. First I was excited and ran to tell my husband and kids, then I was nervous about the call, which quickly turned to "oh my, I have no idea about how to negotiate with a film producer. Do I get an agent? Or do I have my editor act as my agent? This is an option in my contract, not one I ever thought I would seriously have to consider. My next thought, being the cynic that I can be, is this is some person's sick idea of a joke. Ha ha, let's see how long we can get Kristin to sit home and stare at her phone. Well, if that's the case the joke's on you. I gave the producer my cell phone too. So I can stare at my phone waiting for it to ring from anywhere.

So, my head is swimming with all of these thoughts as I start calling family and friends to share the news. In the mean time my two youngest kids are playing outside at a neighbor's house. I am only on my first call, haven't even finished cheering and hooting with one of my best friends and proofreader of my book, when I hear the tell tale sirens of my children's cries coming closer. I look out the window and sure enough they are both running for the house full speed, my daughter sobbing and my son with his own face twisted in what looks like pain.

Oh God, something happened, some one's hurt. I hang up the phone and run outside to find out if medical attention is needed or the fire department, this is how serious they both look. My daughter sees me and she starts pointing at her arm and the big, break your heart crocodile tears are pouring out. We all meet in the driveway, and now other neighbors are coming out and my husband and two older boys are rushing out the front door. Serious drama.

I reach my daughter and check her arm, which she is still holding stiffly away from herself. No break, no horrendous gash, just a tiny surface scrape. Before I can wrap my mind around what could actually be wrong they start arguing. He said this, no she did that, not true, yes it is. No lie in the blink of an eye, they have caught their breath and were screaming over each other to tell me about argument they had over a ball game at the neighbors.

So, no one's hurt? I ask just to clarify. They both get louder; now they see I'm mad and try even harder to explain their sides of the battle. It is my turn to scream. Get in the house! I yell over them and look to the front door to see the tail ends of my husband and older boys disappearing back inside. I turn to the few neighbors that are still watching this all. Nothing to see here, I tell them with a neighborly wave. I can hear my two little angels inside, continuing their bicker fest.

My daughter, who I am certain will be the best actress ever or the most evil lawyer, has shut off her tears and is screaming at my son and to me that he basically picked her up and threw her across the yard and on top of a bike, causing her to hurt her arm. She now turns the tears back on, on cue. I feel like yelling, cut, but yell go to bed instead. Everyone, including me, needs to cool down and then we can get to the bottom of this.

Well, now my daughter has let the flood gates go. She's half way through a box of tissues and sobbing loudly, very loudly, that it's not fair and she doesn't need to calm down. Now the calm down has become, it's time for bed. The craziest part of all is it was 7:30 when all of this happened. They go to bed at 8:00 on a school night. She manages to stay awake until almost 9:00, going back and forth from crying to asking if she can come back out.

And by the way, once they both calmed down I got the whole story, which came down to them arguing about another neighbor getting an extra turn at the game they were playing. My daughter (actress/lawyer) decides it's her job to put a stop the unfairness of the situation by taking the ball in protest. My son (future cop/bounty hunter) chases her to get it back. She trips over the bike and scrapes (if it even can be considered a scrape) her arm. This simple incident they turn into almost two hours of drama, when they could have stopped, brushed off and continued playing.

My point of sharing this story is this. Kids, at least mine, have a way of helping you keep things in perspective. There I sat on the couch next to my husband, when the house was finally quiet, with one cold beer on my throbbing head and one in my hand, no longer stressing about the email or any phone calls. I figure talking to a producer about making my fictional book into a television drama can not be any more stressful than dealing with an actual real life one.

I would love to hear your stories that prove to you that no matter how good or how bad (or how crazy)...life goes on.

Keep in touch,

Kristin : )