I Wanna Go the F to Sleep!

 THE WORLD’S STILL SPINNING -- YO -- I’M NOT ON IT!

 Nothing says tired like a crashed-out kid. To bad its not me!

Nothing says tired like a crashed-out kid. To bad its not me!

Not again! I got up this morning and realized that for the last month, while the earth loops around the sun on its plucky little axis, it has proceeded to do its remarkably reliable 24-hour rotation and taken all seven-something billion of us with it, with no concern for whether or not I’m actually getting up and participating in it.

It doesn’t seem to care that 7:45 a.m. rolls around and I’m still in bed, clinging to the sheets like my life depends on it, my bored-to-teary-eyed kids have nudged me for the umpteenth time begging for cereal, the phone’s rung off the hook with perky mom-friends wondering if we’re on for an after-school play-date (try me at noon), even my lazy-ass dog is looking at me from her mangy doggy-throne with a disgusted “you suck Oscar Madison” as though I don’t even do slothful well. They can all kiss my… lily white a$$, because I don’t FEEEEEEEEL like it. I wanna stay the F asleep!

Just because I have kids doesn’t mean I signed up for a 20 year sentence of early mornings ev-er-y-sing-le-day, endless 3:00 a.m. wake-ups (can I have a cough candy? can I sleep with you? I peed the bed… again), shuttle-bussing to-fro school/ lessons/ playdates/ birthdays, tyrannical meal-prep – three square ones a day – chock full of vitamins, made from mold-free ingredients, and wait, they better taste better than a molten chocolate lava cake OR I AIN’T EATING IT. And make it in the shape of a happy face, or a manta ray, no, I want my breaded chicken stick to look like an all-i-ga-tor, so there! I SAID PUH-LEASE, YOU DIDN’T HEAR ME, WAAAAAAAAA! Pass the plum sauce.

Don’t talk to me about the upside and the beauty/innocence/sweetness and the blah-blah-blah what would life be like without children, and imagine yourself at 60, and who’s going to take care of you, and this is what life’s all about and snooooooore. I know all this. And I agree. But I just want to bitch… ok? Is that so bad? Am I the only one? Sometimes it feels that way. Like when I pull up to the school without even bothering with a comb, or a toothbrush, or a bra. My now signature crown-top pony-tail loose from a fractured sleep, and not a sexy JFL loose pony-tail, but rather a sticky with dry-shampoo, finger-combed, dark-rooted, bleached out pony-tail that doesn’t even look real because the end of the “tail” is so divergent in tone from the base of the hair connected to my dry, tired, begging-for-sun epidermis, that it’s just plain sad.

And if I even sniff the D-word, with its faux I-care-I-really-really-care, I will eat my right elbow. I’m not D-pressed, I’m pressed… like every single button pressed, and I’m tired. And if you knew me you’d know I’m busy, like really busy. But sometimes I get not-busy, as in not-working for a pay-check and not urgently needing to fulfill kids needs, or household needs, or pay-bills, or stop the house from burning down. On those rare occasions when there isn’t anything urgent to do, which is not all that often, then I find myself stymied. Yes, stymied. “Duh, what do I do next George?” Because, once all the urgent and ever-so-detailed details of my world (and the five other souls living in it, if you don’t think dogs have a soul, then four, yes I included my au pair) are taken care of, then I’m simply left with a really long to-do list that consists of not-so-urgent things, but things nonetheless that really shouldn’t be ignored:

--turn the compost pile --clean the closets --rat-proof the garage

--change summer clothes out for winter clothes before April, or maybe don’t, summer’s just around the corner

--clean the house/windows/carpets/car/dog/clothes…

--print the photos, do the photo-book, Christmas card, now Valentine’s, scratch that Easter, ah forget it, thank you cards

--call my mother/sister/brother/friend-s-s-s (do I have any?)

Maybe I’m wrong, but I see this list as things that many moms get a chance to tackle, without being so damn exhausted by the time they get to tackle it, that they actually DO it and don’t feel like they just want to sleep for a month. I know everyone’s busy and I’m not trying to win the “exhausted mom” award (although I bet I’d rank), but I just wish that when I’m tired, everyone else could be tired too, maybe sleep when I sleep, or just sleep in once in awhile so I don’t feel so guilty when I need to do it for two weeks straight.

Half the time, if I don’t volunteer for a decent rest, or some stillness in my life, then my body will just plain force it: “F-U lady, I’m going down. If you’re not taking me down, I’m taking YOU down… here’s a nice sore throat for yah, how do you like that? How about a snotty nose? No, not going to slow you down? Ok, yeast infection it is. Now go get some anti-fungal and a good night’s sleep bitch!”

Do I get any rest from this? No, now I’m tired and itchy. Thank you very much. And I cap all this fun off with a visit to my favorite web-site: worldometers.info to watch the current world population tally grow exponentially as we confirm the rumors, “humans are a scourge!” There’s some morbid satisfaction here, where I say, “I told you we’re all screwed.” You know we hit seven billion on October 31st 2011? Check out the CO2 emissions number in tons as the meter runs faster than the eye can follow. Did you know there’s a car produced every second and there are well over five million cell phones sold a DAY? And the ‘days to the end of oil’ figure will put a lump in your gullet the size of a pick-up, no, a Hemmy. Told you it was fuuuuuun, like yeast infection fun.

World, go to sleep. Chuck the roids! Take a rest with me. Instead of pajama day for kids, make pajama day for kids AND moms, and do it once a week. Instead of asking for more parent volunteers, pull back the ceaseless projects and tell moms they’re off the hook for a stint. Un-super-mom-ify the community and maybe we’ll un-super-man-ify the world. Let’s just hang, nap, and check into BE-hab. Screw making things better—rehabilitating this and that—turn off the treadmill and be. BE!

It wouldn’t kill us, especially when you see those numbers on the worldometer. Going, doing, rushing, making, dressing, talking, working, moving, progress can be depressing, and scary. But then I remember the quote: “Go placidly amid the noise and haste… no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should” and find some comfort in Max Ehrmann’s view of the world.

Que sera sera… Whether I like it or not, whether I’m tired or not, the earth will just keep spinning. Standing on the equator the earth spins at about 1000 miles an hour, and if it stopped, like for me or for any other reason, the atmosphere would still keep zipping along at the same break-neck speed. Anything not attached to bedrock, i.e. most things, would pretty much be scoured clean—including me. Nice. Truth is, I don’t really want that, and, despite my bitchy rant, I really do love my life (most of the time) and would prefer to not get sucked into a space vortex any time soon. So world, keep on spinning and moving and shaking, I’m going the F to sleep… 

3...2...1... Blast-off! It's LAUNCH/Party time!

Me and the book cover -- yippee!

DRUM ROLL PLEASE...

The culmination of months, no years -- seven to be exact -- of work (on/off, painful/joyous)...

  Signing books, this one's for Kate.

Signing books, this one's for Kate.

THE REALITY JANE BOOK LAUNCH PARTY! (I can not make this exclamation point big enough, and if I put 20 of them you'd think me childish).

What can I say, the perfect launch to this sweet (eh-hem) little tale of Jane's raucous adventures behind-the-scenes in reality TV. And, when I say perfect, I mean perfect!

Awesome guests, rather, awesome FRIENDS, attended with great big smiles and accolades. I couldn't have been more humbled by their support and all the love in the room -- and it was fun too! (muchos pix below)

Highlights:

--the red carpet and my paparazzi (thank you Spencer) snapping pix of guests!

  • my fabulous yummy mummy caterer/buddy Heather feeding us with delicious appies and treats!
  • my super-kid au pair from Germany bartend'ing and keeping everyone's cup full (running over)!
  • kick-ass location/hosts lent us their West Van home--thank you Dianne and Martin!
  • the whole sh-bang professionally lit with kinos/arris thanks to my DP (DOP in Canada) hubby Josh!
  • beautiful speech by my ever-supportive, loving and talented mother, Marguerite (thanks Ma)!
  • and, as I said, all my awesome friends trekking out on a cold November night for a little celebration (thank you Cea for being my gorgeous cover model and doing my web-site just in time for launch)! 

Thank you everyone from the bottom of my heart! 

xo Shannon

  Carole and Mark -- super hip neighbours and friends!

Carole and Mark -- super hip neighbours and friends!

Now would somebody please turn this novel into a MOVIE already!

  Cea: awesome friend and cover model for the book

Cea: awesome friend and cover model for the book

  Giving my speech, Josh by my side!

Giving my speech, Josh by my side!

  Heather (foodie phenom), Andrea (tri-athlete phenom)

Heather (foodie phenom), Andrea (tri-athlete phenom)

  Ami (interior design phenom), Helena, Sarah with big smiles!

Ami (interior design phenom), Helena, Sarah with big smiles!

  Awww, they're actually listening! My wonderful guests.

Awww, they're actually listening! My wonderful guests.

  Jonica and Helena looking happy w/ their purchase (only $15.95 folks!)   

Jonica and Helena looking happy w/ their purchase (only $15.95 folks!)
 

  Jan (au pair and bartender), Heather  prepping for the night.

Jan (au pair and bartender), Heather  prepping for the night.

  Mingling

Mingling

  Marguerite (Mom) giving a speech and feeling proud!

Marguerite (Mom) giving a speech and feeling proud!

  Cool chix incldg Kirsten (my no. 1 fan/Cheer Lady / Supermom)!

Cool chix incldg Kirsten (my no. 1 fan/Cheer Lady / Supermom)!

  Liz and Victoria looking rad!

Liz and Victoria looking rad!

  Karina, Kristen, Joanne, Helen -- Looking fab!

Karina, Kristen, Joanne, Helen -- Looking fab!

  Beautiful babes: Mary and Vittoria!

Beautiful babes: Mary and Vittoria!

  Karen (super funny chick) and her pal!

Karen (super funny chick) and her pal!

  Rosalina, make-up artist extraordinaire

Rosalina, make-up artist extraordinaire

  Fab Celia and her daughter!

Fab Celia and her daughter!

  Marguerite in the director's chair!

Marguerite in the director's chair!

  David (producer dude) and Alana!

David (producer dude) and Alana!

  Relaxing now ...

Relaxing now ...

  Super cool chix: Tracy, Tanis and Kat!

Super cool chix: Tracy, Tanis and Kat!

  Liz Tracy and Carole mugging!

Liz Tracy and Carole mugging!

  Dianne (awesome host) and Tanis (PR Phenom)!

Dianne (awesome host) and Tanis (PR Phenom)!

  Maureen - producer phenom (today's fave word)

Maureen - producer phenom (today's fave word)

  Kim and her Mom brought the youngest attendee and RJ fan, her newborn babe Charlie!

Kim and her Mom brought the youngest attendee and RJ fan, her newborn babe Charlie!

  Sarah artist chick!

Sarah artist chick!

  Hottie Ronnie and her hubby Russel!

Hottie Ronnie and her hubby Russel!

  Kate and Trev - nicest producers in town!

Kate and Trev - nicest producers in town!

  Nicole actor chick/supermom phenom!

Nicole actor chick/supermom phenom!

  Steven (awesome DP dude) and Christine rad chick!

Steven (awesome DP dude) and Christine rad chick!

  At the signing table ...

At the signing table ...

  Me and my girls!

Me and my girls!

  Happy couple -- We did it!

Happy couple -- We did it!

Step 1 -- Turning Novel into Best-Seller/Blockbuster Movie (stop laughing)

I know, hilarious, right? Best-seller ...puh-lease. Blockbuster Movie ...what is she smoking?
But a girl can dream.
And dream I will.
But how to make dream reality?

Obvious ways:
--Get book mentioned on syndicated talk show... Ellen!
--Get chapter published in popular chick mag ...Flare? Cosmo?
--Get New York Times Book Review!

Realistic ways:
--Get local newspaper to do one paragraph mention
--Get on local radio show -- Check! I was on CBC this morning with Rick Cluff... IIII-thankyou!
--Get mention/s in community papers, any paper will do, minimum reach 50, seriously, I'll take 50.
--Get mom to send email to all her friends
--Hand out flyers on the street.

So I've taken to some realistic and maybe slightly desperate measures. And if you see me on the street, please wave, grab a REALITY JANE postcard and give me one of those pretend smiles that says "I care, I really do" just before you phone your BFF with news of the pathetic chick who's one mortgage payment away from dreds and busking with a multi-colored baton.

Shall let you know how it all goes.

Scared *#@&%less

Good Morning -- Welcome to my first "realityjane" post.

First I answer some questions, my own (I'm needing a confidence boost and a little clarity):
Yes, I've written a book.
No, it's not self-published.
Yes, someone actually "invested" in me; he's called a publisher.
Yes, he's real and not a figment of my imagination (I have the physical, and very real, book to prove it).
Yes, I'm a complete book-writing novice (less so now that I've published my first book).
Yes, I love using parenthesis (significantly less so in my book, in case you find it annoying).
No, I'm not drunk.
Yes, I'm scared.

"Why?" you ask, "...why when the hard work is done, and I should be coasting on my deliciously popular laurels, am I scared?"

Let me tell you:
A) There's nothing delicious about my laurels, so lame analogy self, seriously. And popular? Hmm...
B) Scared doesn't begin to describe it.
C) Coast shmoast!

Yes, writing the actual book was very challenging. Actually writing it wasn't so bad (believe it or not), it was re-writing it, then re-writing it again, editing it (over and over and over and wrestling with forks to be used to poke my eyeballs out), then finding an agent (500 kiss-ass letters later), then breaking up with said agent, having a few babies, and finding another agent (this time only about 50 kiss-ass letters), then finding a publisher, then figuring out the contracts and finally giving up and saying "so you're going to print this? Like, with YOUR money? Fab, my work here is done." Then realizing my work isn't near done and here I am with what is actually a very good book (as far as chick-lit goes) and wondering how the hell do I turn this into my very own "Devil Wears Prada"! Like seriously, HOW DO I DO THAT?

The fact is I'm scared. I'm scared that I won't even sell 500 copies. I'm scared people will think it sucks. I'm scared that this little reality TV romp is a little too close to home. No, Jane is not me, but we have a lot in common and her experiences (though fictional!) are based on versions I've seen, heard, imagined, then tossed in the brain-spin-cycle for something deliciously (there's that word again, I'm hungry, it's 6 a.m.) embellished and fun to read. I'm scared of being vulnerable and people knowing too much. Sad as it may sound, reality TV (to date) has been a big part of my life, it's my career and where I've made a lot of my money, that has since become my home/clothes/stuff/vacations and played a big role in making the whole Shanni world (two kids and a hub) go around. That book is a glimpse inside my head and how I think. Now the world gets a glimpse at that proprietary information -- if they so choose to look/read -- and that freaks me out! I guess I'm really actually quite private. And I'm about to be judged, big-time. Ahhhhhhhhh!

I'm just feeling a little naked right now. Beyond the jitters, I have a big job to do and I'm not sure where to start. The media list I have (thanks to a generous friend) is positively enormous and daunting and how do I reach those crusty journalists? How do I convince them to care about my book, the launch, me? And do I really want them to? Do I want anyone to read this? Dammit, it's so good and private and crazy, maybe I don't! My publisher would kill me for saying that. Read it, no seriously, read it for godsakes.

Yikes!!! Yikes again!!! I'm scared. That's alls I can says...