Anti-Social Grump

Morgan (a regular reader of the blog [though she never comments] who now owes me a shiny nickel) hinted that it has been some time since I updated.  So here goes:

• Shoe update:  I didn't get new shoes (well not these shoes;  I got other less expensive but equally cute shoes) with my royalty check.  Instead, we bought camp chairs for soccer.  Frances has played soccer now for five years (maybe six?) and we've always stood or sat on the grass throughout the game because I refused to buy chairs.  In my mind it was a decadent expense (really, sitting on the ground is not going to kill you; it probably builds character).  But free money suddenly appearing in my mailbox apparently signaled to the family that camp chairs were in order.  Camp chairs instead of cute shoes: was there ever a clearer sign that I am somebody's mother?
• Kid update: Here is where the anti-social grump comes in.  Frances has reached an age where she doesn't really need or desire my presence when she plays outside.  Consequently she spends hours (literally, from 1 until about 6 or 7) outside on the weekends doing lord knows what.   She has made tons of new friends and now they want to come here and play Guitar Hero and eat cookies and drink juice.  Before I had kids and even when Frances was very little, I imagined that I'd love that kind of house, the house where all the kinds want to hang out.  I find, however, that I kind of hate it.  I need kids to go home.  I want to sit down in my uppity negro t-shirt, braless, eating banana bread and reading Dean/Castiel slash in peace.  But now, instead of kicking off my shoes and collapsing on to the couch when I get home, instead I have to run around making sure the bathroom is clean and that I remembered to pick up my underwear from the middle of the floor and that the more racy romance novels I've been reading for my new project aren't just sitting on the dinner table.  That's a lot of pressure, which wouldn't be so bad if Frances actually participated in keeping things neat.  But clearly that's too much to ask.  And what do you at dinner time?  Do you just kick kids out of your house?  Am I supposed to feed everyone that comes over?  Exhausting.
• Work update:  It was suggested recently, by someone whose opinion I trust and value, that I should take myself and my job more seriously.  Not that I'm not serious about my work, but that my work, particularly on my campus, is important and that importance is noted.  That's paradigm-shifting for me.  I still feel like goofy 19-year old me.  To really let it sink in that for a good portion of the day I'm actually professional, super-competent, respected 37-year old me feels new and a little strange.  I think I like it.
• Finally, romance project update:  I'm wrtiting an article about Zane right now and will be doing an academic book on AA romance and erotica (hopefully!), but I'm thinking I want to do something with black romantic film.  I'm trying to generate a list of films that have a black romantic love (rather than parental or filial or racial love) story at its center.  Anyone have any favorite love stories?