Why are there knife marks stabbed into the butter?

First and foremost, know that I love my children. I often write of inspirations, and my children must be at the top of that list. But winter months, trapped indoors and bundled against the freedom of SPACE, have caused me to wrinkle my brow at an exceptional number of huh's.

Although my novel should not be considered autobiographic, my protagonist and I have a lot in common. We are both mothers to one son and one daughter, we are both married to strong-willed men, and we both use a sense of humor to manage the aforementioned similarities. With this in mind, I have found myself making notes of those moments that cause me to wonder how to avoid checking myself in to the loony bin. These notes will likely become scenes, back stories or one-liners somewhere along the line of my story.

Here's a few teasers of the situations that may find a place within the 94,000+/- words of my novel:

• Who dropped all these potato chip crumbs in the bathroom?
• Is Bailey in the bathtub, because there's water dripping from the ceiling again?
• Tell me again why you set your shoes on fire.
• What has happened to all the silverware?
• After it rained I found your socks/underwear in the front yard.
• Why is there a doll frozen in a block of ice in my freezer?

I can't, of course, share all of my gems with you, but be assured the list goes on and on.