I am very pleased to announce that I have been signed up for representation by New York literary agent Ethan Ellenberg.

He will be advocating Surprise! for the international market(s) - and hopefully for other books of mine, at a later date! I shall have to get back to some serious work!

I was going to wait until the 1st of February to make the announcement. After all, that was the day I first declared my intention to publish solo. People thought I was mad. I even thought it on occasion, but look what happened because of it: I was invited to the Emerging Writers Festival and the Melbourne Writers Festival, I scored a national distribution deal, I was on the radio (three times!), was interviewed for a couple newspapers, and a score of other perks. I was going to wait, as I said, but you all know I’m the impatient type.

What was the best part of the 2008? Seeing children reading Surprise! and loving it (the good reviews help too!) When parents tell me how much they all get out of reading it together, when libraries discover their own little treasures…well, there are no words. Just a proud, beating heart of mine.

And maybe, hopefully, fingers crossed, people in America, Canada - and beyond! - may also get the opportunity to walk into a bookstore and buy it as well. That was my goal - that is the dream - and it all began by backing myself and letting passion kindle into something not only beautiful, but achievable.

As much as I look forward to coming home from holidays, I must admit there is a small part of me that wonders just how I will fit back in. Sometimes I wonder if I am a little like a rehabilitated wild animal, like a bird, after being nursed from injury, and now it is time for the keepers to hold me in their gloved hands, let me go with a shake, and wish me well.

In all the wildlife programs I’ve seen, the bird - or whatever it is - usually amscrays without a look back. I usually look back.

Perhaps this is ordinary post-holiday wistfulness; perhaps most of us return from holidays with a car full of clothes that need washing, bellies that are a little fatter, and a mental space that is arguably as frazzled as the day you left.

So when we pulled up in the car the other day, I kept close watch on my feelings as we entered the house. It had been over five weeks since I left. That is a fair time away. I could survey the scene with a fair amount of objectivity. I walked around and was pretty brutal: I realised I loathe our tiles just as much as my husband does, because they are nearly all cracked. I still love our kitchen counter-tops. I remain ambivalent about our green carpet.

Harshest of all, I went to my clothes drawers and tipped them out, and went through them as viciously as a stylist on a makeover show. I filled up three bags, without so much as trying on the outfits to allow them one last defence. Most of them wouldn’t have fit, anyway, and that would have just made me more depressed.

And with less than 48 hours before my husband goes back to work, the house and I remain at impasse. Which is a shame, for we need a good relationship.

At least I do, with it, to stay sane.

This year I’m going to try and start a new habit, and that is to post up my favourite reads of the week on a Sunday. They may not necessarily have been published that week, but my eyes must have first seen them then. You’re welcome to join in too! What’s been your favourites? Leave a comment or email me and let me know!

This week will be a touch on the short side, as I haven’t been around to read the Internet!

And so in no particular order:

The 2009 Bloggie nominations are open, as are the 2009 Bloggers Choice Awards ones. I’m not going to beg for a nomination this year (although that would be really dandy). I will play it cool and be above all competition. I will be the blogging equivalent to Woody Allen.

A recent New Yorker article about Naomi Klein and the recent financial crisis

A bolstering, affirming post on blogging and authenticity

BHJ really is one of the best parenting/life bloggers I’ve discovered over the past year 

******

And right now you’re asking yourself if this is yet another stop-gap post to avoid talking about what real news and general family madness is going on?

Why, yes. It is.

We arrived home this morning at 10.45am, and in the six hours since we’ve been unpacking. The children are debating what’s more exciting? The Christmas presents they’ve just received or the older ones they’re rediscovering? So far, the older toys are winning; except the basketball ring of Riley’s we waited until getting home to give him. Boy, were we popular at that moment in time.

Now excuse me momentarily - I have to catch up on all my magazine reading that’s piled up since we left. Let’s see, there’s:

Five The New Yorkers,  one Time (and only because I’ve just started subscribing), one Medecins Sans Fronteirs Australia, one Victorian Writer, one Australian Author, one CAL (Copyright Agency Limited) update and the local council newsletter.

I’ll see you in a few days, I think! (Maybe not that long - I have lots to tell you…)

One of the reasons I began twittering was to see if any of the threads of ordinary life I occasionally jotted down there could later on be turned into a longer, better observed essay/post here. 90 per cent of the time, no, they haven’t, but I feel I need to refer back to a final few I’ve done in order for better clarity as I sit here and try to anticipate what lies ahead in 2009.

******

Tweet #1: Part of me is excited that it’s almost the New Year; new beginnings, new start and all that. The other part is like, here we go again.

Tweet #2: Trying to write a post about what’s happened this year and what’s likely to happen next year. Am too emotional to be circumspect about it.

****** 

We’re still on the road. Dubbo, these past few days. Tomorrow we begin the epic 900-odd kilometre road trip back home. I’m pretty sure tonight will be the same for me as all other NYE’s past: watching the kiddie fireworks and then making some poor excuse to go to bed early. If I do repeat form, I suppose  - I think - that that reason would be as good as any.

I’m tired. I’m ready to go back to our life in Melbourne, even if it is without access to family. That family, my immediate family, I suspect, will be in for a tough year. My father’s health is rapidly declining. Most of his food is pureed now, and that which isn’t he often coughs up, and nearly chokes on. Part of me wonders whether that was the last Christmas or not he’s got left, and I’m pretty certain at times, when I spied unguarded expressions on his face, he was wondering the same thing.

When people have been kindly inquiring after his health, they often ask, “How old is he again?” and expect a different number, a higher one, than the one I give: “59″.

Numbers, numbers. This post is full of them, if you look back, all featuring ‘9′ in there somewhere. I could edit these, I feel like I’m testing some sort of karmic lottery by keeping them in there, but then again, aren’t we all doing that every day, in every moment, in some way?

I’m trying not to be depressing. There were many wonderful, beautiful, funny stories I’ve yet to relate about our holidays, but I cannot deny that at the end of it, and as the clocks tick over, if I’m asleep or not, I will be thankful for the joys I’ve received and hope we still have many more to come.

Happy New Year everybody.

xxxx

…because I swear to God that all of my goodwill and cheer would’ve evaporated just as quickly as it did today when I spent a good part of twenty minutes separating the damned thing from all its packaging.

Now I just have to reinforce the Velcro across her breasts because the poor darl’s baps keep busting out all over the place.

Very awkward.

Today we’re travelling through mid-western NSW to visit Adam’s family and consequently my Internet access will be limited for a short while. I will return later with our Christmas recap, but I cannot leave without first sharing one story.

As Keira opened this present:

she exclaimed, “Oh! This is just like the one I saw on The View!”

And I about died, for now my family knows I expose my daughter to the show. Occasionally. Out of accident.

I hope you all had a Merry Christmas - and that your children didn’t expose too many of your parental failings