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Posts tagged ‘life’

Aug 10

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Cathy: This too shall end…

This was posted on my blog before I retrieved my sons from their month-long visit with their father. I must have been missing them. A lot. I have them now and am not feeling nearly as wistful, typed with a grin.

I’m a Capricorn and I’m a parent. Capricorns are known for their penchant to give advice, and I have this penchant in spades. Being a parent, of course I give parenting advice all along, whether I really know what I’m talking about or not, but I’ve learned a few things over the years, including in the business of education pretty much since I left college. Kids are what I do. I even babysat from the time I was eleven years old. So if I know anything, it’s kids. Or to be more precise and professional about it, I know child development. As a parent of a child with Asperger’s Syndrome, I know child development intimately, and what it looks like when it is skewed. Small advice on that, trust your instincts, mom. If you think something isn’t quite right, tell your pediatrician and don’t let him or her give you the “oh, it’ll all even out eventually” speech. Get to the specialists, get the testing. If your kid is ok, it’ll show. If not, early intervention is the key to your child’s success.

But that is a topic for another day.

Today’s spouting of advice is to let you know, whatever you are experiencing as a parent will end eventually. This phase of development will end, whether it is the constant demand of a newborn that exhausts you all hours of the day and night, the toddler exploration that drives every tiny piece of muck from the floor into her mouth or the destruction of your home environment in ways you never imagined possible, the I wants and whines of a preschooler to a preteen or the back talk and eye rolls of your pre-teen to teen.

The nursing that seems to suck the life out of you will end. The nursing that gives the special closeness you never dreamed possible will end.

The constant curiosity and amazement with everything around him will end. The nice spitty sucked fingers in the outlet guaranteed to give a charge will end.

The exuberant jumping on or off the sofa will end. The intense focus on dinosaurs, legos, drawing will end. Well, maybe not, you may have an artist, builder, archeologist or Olympian long jumper on your hands, but what an incredible place to start.

The eye rolls and flip flop of hormonal emotions, the sneaking and secrecy, intense friendships and heart pulled deeply in any direction away from you will end. So will the late night or car ride talks when you have your teen alone. Those times when you’ll get a glimpse of this young man or woman and who they’ll be, how they are likely to handle the world on their own, and whether or not you will think, alright, they’ll be okay, or have to let go even if you think they won’t be okay. Then hope they’ll at least be alright, eventually.

In every phase of childhood and parenthood, you and your child will rise to meet each other, negotiate the constantly shifting sands of your landscape together to rise into an adult. A day will come when the constant aggravation of his climbing the stairs when the gate is undone, or opening the kitchen drawers or inserting paper or bologna or puzzle pieces into the VCR, DVD, Wii slot will become family lore to share and look back on wistfully or in hysteria. Remember the time Junior jumped off the garage roof and broke one wrist and sprained the other? Yea, that was hysterical! And then he’d ride his bike around the neighborhood no handed, cast and splint up in surrender! Remember the time the police brought Junior home because he was riding his bike around town center at midnight? Yea, what was he, twelve? Yea, yea! Remember the time Suzy smeared poop all over her bedroom wall by her crib? Hahaha!

The seemingly impossible to survive times are survived, and eventually reflected upon or laughed about. But don’t forget to mark and hold the good moments, too. The intimate moments bed snuggling with the newborn, their sweet, warm, musky smell, their translucent skin and peaceful sleep. Don’t forget to hold the full–out preschooler laughs over farts at the dinner table, the spaghetti covered face, the midnight bad dream slip into your bed by the nine year old. The sofa snuggle and popcorn on movie night. The way the sunlight hits her hair in the off-shore beach breeze, the scent of salt and sunscreen on his skin, snow angels and snowball fights. The moment your teen looks at you in one of those deep conversations that appear to be on the surface, and says, only with his eyes, yea, I get it, even when the rest of his body language says otherwise.

Don’t forget the milestones and everything in between, because all of it will come back to mind, rise to the surface and you’ll wonder when that phase ended, when the sands shifted and created these new dunes in her life. The old dunes were so familiar.

This too shall end and you can hold it dear, or let it slip away. Let the tough stuff wear away with time. Keep it all close to your heart, because it’s not just your child’s life that is growing and changing. It’s yours.

Jul 29

6 Comments

Kelly: Fresh Faces and Birthday Places

Cross posted from my blog: a little look at a day in the life…

So here we are…six years ago today I brought my girls into this world. I told you about their grand arrival on this earth here. I read about a self-portrait challenge on Cristi’s blog who read about it on Crystal’s blog who read about it on Tara’s blog (don’t you love the connectedness blogging brings?), and I thought that the girls’ birthday would be the ideal day to show my fresh face and include my girls. I’m not one for serious pictures (as obviously seen here), so we broke out the grins.

Having girls, I’m acutely aware of the pressure society often puts on us to look beautiful, with beauty products and quick fixes being major money makers. We all need to cherish our beauty, both inner and outer, and learn to feel comfortable in our own skin. What better example to set for our children?

So here I am in all my no make-up, no hair dryer glory. I don’t wear much make-up to begin with, so this isn’t much of a stretch! I couldn’t do the “first thing out of bed” picture because it’s still dark when I get up, so this is fresh out of the shower this morning.

The girls are still in their pajamas with messy hair. I love the picture of the three of us, Sarah just peeking up over the bottom of the frame. We’re sitting in the window seat in their room.

I took the day off today to spend the day with the girls for their birthday. After our morning photo shoot, we went to Yes You Canvas, which I first told you about here. Then I took them to their favorite lunch spot, Chick-fil-A, and then to see the movie G Force (the talking guinea pigs really were a hoot).

After a little shopping trip to Reddi-Arts and Target to spend their birthday money from Papa and Granddad, we capped the day off with dinner and birthday cake at Chowder Ted’s. Ted’s is one of those special neighborhood places, and we feel very blessed to have Ted and the gang within walking distance from our house.

The girls’ first trip there was at six weeks old and was actually their very first trip out of the house after coming home from the NICU. They sat on the tables in their carriers and slept the whole time, and we’ve spent every birthday dinner there since, the girls birthday, DH’s birthday and my birthday.

Ted and his wife Carole have become dear friends, and the whole Ted’s gang are like extended family for us. In the picture here are the girls with Teresa, Ted and Amy.

Thank you, Lord, for this family. I am truly blessed. Happy birthday, dear sweet baby girls.

Jun 9

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Bethany: Ideas, they always seem better in my head*

As I lie in bed last night waiting for my daughter to fall into blissful sleep, I came upon a new book idea. I love those. In fact, I might go out on a limb and say I LIVE for those moments. The story idea, the characters, the plot lines all seem so clear. So exciting. Something akin to magical. The entire story makes sense in all the right places and so easy to just sit down and write. Well, when I get up and write them.

That is, until when I actually do sit down to type/write/stutter out the fragments of the idea into something more official. Whether that be in an electronic document, piece of paper or just verbalizing it to my husband. Then… it all gets ruined. The idea suddenly becomes real and I find holes in the plot that seemed so flawless only moments before. The characters, superficial. And well the idea, just not quite where it needs to be. And, yet, I still take the time to continue writing it all down. Every piece of inspiration. Just in case I need an idea to grow into something more.

Though the doubts that start when I start writing? Never go away. In fact, I think more and more of them creep up the more I write the story. I’m convinced it has to do with the fact that I am *actually* writing and progressing and doing what I want to do. The little old thing called FEAR has weird ways of trying to ruin your plans. And right now, I’m just going to blame him for how I feel about that idea. Because the other part of my brain–the better half–still likes it. And thinks with a bit more tweaking (and letting go), the great parts of it just might come out and play. If I let it. And right now, I have nothing else to lose. Except, the excitement that is all in my head.

* So I’ve been absent forever. And so has my writing and creativity. And really, my life (thanks to an over-bearing day job). This was one of my weak attempts at more committed blogging again. And Cathy asked me me to cross post from my blog. So, I am. Thanks for the reminder Cathy. And for always reading even when I barely post.

Mar 26

9 Comments

Cathy: Oh Well

I’ve been having an odd week or so, and it continues into next week.

Baby C’s 1st birthday is approaching, and nothing seems to be working out to get people together as planned. There is an event conflicting with my planned party date that the couple of baby friends we wanted to invite will be attending. My parents are up before their town zoning board around the same time, trying to split their property so they can keep living in the house we grew up in, so they can’t travel from Connecticut. My aunt-in-law’s son is competing in a statewide math competition on the same day I planned the party, so they’ll be in Richmond instead.

My husband has some kind of lump in his neck that hurts, and he’s been bringing it up to me for well over a week now. He vacillates between thinking it’s cancer or a tooth infection that is swelling a gland to press against his carotid artery, and hurting all the way into his chest. I’m somewhat worried, his mother is worried, but I’ve reached a level of impatience about his not making an appointment to see a doctor about it, which is making me say inappropriately, “Call the doctor, or shut up and die. I‘m tired of your complaining about it to me and not doing something about it!” On one level, I’m trying to be humorous, but I’m worried and annoyed he’s stalling making an appointment.

I also have a few friends facing bad mammos and other tests, setting them up for consultations with surgeons of various types and one whose house just burned down on Friday.

My novel is progressing in fits and starts, and I just want it to end now so I can move onto the next project, or breath between them, or fly a kite or something. I’m getting tired of not being finished with it. It’s been so close for so long.

Spring has officially sprung, but now it’s cold again and seems to want to remain that way just so I can’t get out there to garden. I still haven’t finished that darn room excavation of boy numero dos; and I can’t seem to find baby gates like the ones I used to have ten or so years ago, where the press handle is at the top and you can easily open and reset it with one hand, while holding the baby in the other and don’t need to screw it into the walls or stair rails.

Nothing seems to be going my way, but surprising, I’m calm. I have a very casual attitude about it all. “Oh well’ has become a mantra.

I took a silly facebook quiz: Which of the Seven Deadly Sins Are You – and came up as Sloth. The way the multiple choices were phrased, just struck me that my answers weren’t of the prideful, gluttonous, pornographic, jealous, wrathful or particularly greedy persuasion. If nothing bothering me too terribly much makes me lazy, so be it, but I prefer to think that it shows I’m remarkably well-adjusted in my mid-forties. If all of the above mentioned personal dilemmas going on isn’t fazing me too much, I’d say I’ve reached a milestone in my life. I know in my twenties any one of these would have sent me into dramatic reactions played out before an audience, and if I didn’t have one at hand, I’d go looking for one.

But for now, I press my husband to make an appointment a few times a day. I walk away from the computer to go read or play with the baby or something else entirely rather than sit on facebook with my manuscript open and pestering me on the same screen. Instead of taking everyone else’s conflicting plans around C’s birthday as a personal affront, I just say, “oh well, guess it’ll be lower key than I thought, and now we can do cake on her birthday rather than the weekend before.” S’s room stays messy for another week, and the gardens remain unplanted until the weather warms a bit more. And I feel pretty confident in telling my friends that I’m sure everything will be alright for them, the important thing is they are taking care of what needs to be taken care of and only a cat was lost in the fire — a beloved cat, but not a human loved one.

I’m hoping this sense of everything being okay anyway is grace. I’m taking a page from my friend whose house burnt down. She took it as a harbinger of change to come, rather than dwell on the loss.

Feb 24

9 Comments

Cathy: Stopping the analysis

The February Finish-a-thon has been a great tool for all of us to realize where we fit in setting ourselves deadlines, what project we’re working on, how far we have to go, and whether can we finish it in a certain time frame.

For me, it turned my otherwise small penchant for analysis of why I’m not writing as much as I set out to into a life’s purpose in a public forum. I spent more energy on thinking about not writing than I spent on writing my manuscript. In the meantime, and it took 21 days of this, to realize that I was actually keeping the same pace I had been keeping on the manuscript since I re-opened it last spring: exactly the same pace. The six weeks around the holidays were taken up with the holidays and everyone in the house being very ill in long phases, including me. Otherwise, I have written a small burst of between three to six pages on one day per week, while Baby C naps in the morning, since the beginning. Those naps are rare these days.

There are reasons for this, not excuses. I am incredibly sleep deprived, and can barely function on normal household stuff, let alone have a clear thought for continuity in a novel. I am now on the older baby chase besides her usual kicking keyboard cuteness. She motors everywhere and I follow. We don’t have baby gates up or cabinet locks on, etc. I am all for letting her learn her world. The rest of the world doesn’t have baby gates, why should I here, except it would make my life easier in getting basics done. I am vigilant, and how will she learn to cope on her own, if she doesn’t understand how to get around safely. She needs to learn the stairs, so we teach her, when she wants. She wants to now, so there I am, following the climber up, and keeping her from repelling to her doom. I hold her hand while she scoots down on her butt. We do this over and over, and she laughs and learns a little more each time. The dog and cat enjoy it, too. We’re having a blast.

In the meantime, the little nagging voice in the back of my head tells me I’m making excuses to go fly kites, tend the baby, and bake cookies to avoid the writing. Once, it was a huge voice in the front of my head that told me who the hell do I think I am to write? Who wants to hear what I have to say? The voice shrinks and fades into the background, because, yes I am almost done with this novel. Now it’s just the voice that still wants a voice as I gain my own. During Feb-Fin, I let it out and let it inhale deeply in order to spout through my all my public analysis of not writing. Well, it’s time to show that voice the back door. I won’t give it anymore fanfare.

I will escort it back to where it belongs, as the distant echo in the back of my head. I will get on with writing, my little bit as I can. I will tend the baby, bake cookies, and fly kites. I will enjoy my kids, my husband and dare I say, the housework. I will do so without the dread that the time I am doing something else, or better yet, nothing at all, is time not writing. If my ideas percolate away from the keyboard, so be it. They will form better in the single two to three hours I really have to hobble all those ideas together.

As for the writing itself, I have blogged before that I can’t set a schedule for it. That’s just an axe at the throat of my writing. I can set a maybe schedule, but have to be realistic that if I “set aside” three mornings a week, really only one will serve for the possibility. John Updike may have written six days a week, but that’s just not how my muse works. Mine sprints and recoups. She’s always been like that to an extent. She’s never been a marathoner. Since motherhood, it’s her modus operandi. Regardless of my whining online about not writing, I really have been pretty good about recognizing this pace and letting the writing happen in its own time, and Baby C’s.

Feb 23

9 Comments

Kelly: Humming John Lennon

gypsy-moon1The girls and I lay down and stared at the moon and the stars last night, all cuddled up like three little ladybugs, telling stories. We weren’t outside. No, we were laying in Sarah’s bed, staring up at this particular moon and stars you see here. Aren’t they fabulous? This now covers our attic access, which just so happens to be in the girls’ room, courtesy of my friend Gypsy who came for a visit earlier this week. Not the best picture, but the best I could do shooting up while laying in Sarah’s bed! Gypsy, her apprentice Michelle, and I spent two days doing some painting, having some heart-to-hearts and enjoying a sunny Florida afternoon in Fernandina Beach gallery hopping and scarfing down some awesome barbecue at the Happy Tomato Café (highly recommended if you are ever in Fernandina!). Gypsy’s visit was definitely food for the soul for me.

Gypsy (otherwise known as Lizz Hundley) is a wonderfully free spirit, making her way in the world while living life to the fullest each and every moment. I’ve been trying to do that more lately, too. In case you haven’t read my comment in my Dodging Curve Balls post, I got good news from the surgeon Monday, so I’m going to be fine for now. Dr. H met with the radiologist and pathologist again and decided that sometimes radiologists and pathologists are a little too quick to recommend further surgery in cases like mine. He wants to wait a bit and re-evaluate in six months. I’m glad Dr. S sent me for that surgery consult as a second opinion.

These past few weeks have made me slow down a bit, though, and I think that’s good. Between this little health scare and learning of a friend’s death by a massive heart attack at the ripe old age of 39, I’ve definitely taken a step back from my usual going in eight different directions. When we started the February Finish-a-thon, my “I can do anything” self took over. I definitely didn’t need to add another thing to my plate, but I went ahead and signed on anyway with the goal of creating a new affordably priced pendant line in preparation for the kickoff of the Riverside Arts Market April 4. Well, today’s February 20 and I haven’t made a one. Heck, I haven’t even gotten around to photographing all the new pieces I finished in November and December! My workshop has been sorely neglected. But I’ve decided that that’s really okay (and that seems to be a realization hitting a few of us right now). Yep, I’ve decided that’s just fine because what I have been doing instead? Just hanging out…and I’ve really been needing to just hang out. I’ve been hanging out with DH and the girls…hanging out on the dock looking at the river…hanging out with my furry four-legged friends…hanging out with all the art currently leaning against the walls of my great room waiting for me to rehang it all…hanging out with my students on Facebook (I actually had to learn Facebook for work!). I’ve been moving at a snail’s pace, and it’s been nice.

blue-doorI’ve been keeping up with our running comments on the February Finish-a-thon post. Obviously, since I’ve made zero progress, I haven’t had much news to post, but I’ve tried to be encouraging to the rest of you. I have noticed one thing coming through though. This is truly an incredible group of women, but from my prospective anyway, I think we all have “superwoman disease.” We think we can do it all, and we get frustrated with ourselves, our self-imposed deadlines, and our self-inflicted failures and misgivings when life gets in the way (okay, go ahead and throw darts at me if you think I’m wrong 🙂 ).

I refuse to do that anymore. Life should not be what gets in the way. Life should be what it’s all about. It should be about taking a few days off to spend time with a good friend and go chow down on some barbecue. It should be about making up stories about the things we see in a whimsical painting of the moon and stars while cuddling up with our children. It should be about creating simply for creating’s sake, not for a deadline hanging over our heads. And don’t tell me you can’t do this because you’re too busy dealing with the kids, ladies…we’re all in that boat together. Sure, sometimes deadlines are necessary, and I’m not knocking the idea at all; I think it was a good one to give a kick in the pants if needed. But for me a deadline takes all the joy out of creating. It becomes a “I must do this to meet my deadline” instead of a “Hey, I wanna try this just for fun.”

There’s definitely been some good wisdom in the comments, all from different perspectives, but as I mentioned in one of my comments, something Kristine said has struck the biggest chord with me: “So I’m taking a step back and giving myself a break. I’m taking pleasure in my daily accomplishments and no longer obsessing over what I need to accomplish by the end of the month. It’s a journey, not a sprint.” Yep, it is a journey, not a sprint. I shared a John Lennon quote in my “Keeping Calm and Carrying On” post on my Happy Shack blog last week, and it bears repeating here: “Life is what happens to you while you’re too busy making other plans.” And life in general is the best part of the journey. Don’t let it be what gets in the way; make it what counts most instead. Go live it.

Feb 5

19 Comments

Kelly: Dodging Curve Balls

I’ve been having a couple of those weeks where everything comes at you at once. You know those kind of weeks? It’s been taking up so much space in my brain that I haven’t been able to think straight much less find time to sit down and create.

Two weeks ago I got a job offer out of the blue. I guess I can’t really say it was completely out of the blue because I did put in an application with the K-12 public school system, just not with this particular offer in mind. When I answered my cell, the voice on the other end said, “Kelly Warren…this is a voice from your past.” Suddenly, I felt like a Star Wars character. It was an old friend who was now the principal at one of the top magnet schools here in town, and he just so happened to have an immediate opening for a 7th grade English and language arts teacher. When I submitted my application, it was with the sole intention of seeking a position at my girls’ school, simplifying my life in that fashion being the only thing that would make the pay cut worth it. My old friend did a very hard sell on me by phone, we talked further in person the next day, and I asked him to let me interview with the committee just like any other candidate so I could do a little further investigation and soul searching. It really gave me pause, but ultimately after some long talks with DH and a few close advisors, I decided that even though it was a great opportunity, it was not the right opportunity for me right now.

Interestingly enough, the next day I was sitting in my college-wide Student Life Task Force meeting; we’re charged with determining what changes need to be made to our area as we move towards a four-year state college. We have two campus presidents on the committee. We were finalizing our recommendations for the college’s executive vice president when one of the campus presidents added, “And I think we need to put more teeth into the college-wide coordinator’s role, giving that position more authority.” Guess who that college-wide coordinator is? Needless to say, Dr. Russos (my college-wide supervisor) and I were very happy to hear that because we’ve been working on getting my position upgraded for two years to no avail. Now, we had a campus president wanting to formally add that recommendation to our request list. We finalized that list today, and the only recommendation that we didn’t make any changes to was my position upgrade…which would come with an $8,000 pay increase.

Now, as a little distraction, we’ve advertised a full-time English faculty position on my campus. I was a finalist for a full-time English faculty position at North Campus last summer, but that campus president ultimately decided she wanted someone with a doctorate and scrapped the search. The position still has not been filled. My campus president is open to someone without a doctorate and has encouraged me to apply. Those summers off sure are attractive…and come with a $12,000 pay cut. And I’ve applied. If I were to be offered the upgrade and the faculty position at the exact same moment, not sure exactly which way I’d go…but I’m leaning toward the faculty position.

And now the latest curve ball, totally unrelated to work. I’ve been blessed with the lovely experience of two mammograms in the last two weeks. The second one this past Friday brought me the news I didn’t want to hear. I have a suspicious cluster about the size of a dime in my right breast that requires a biopsy. I’m scheduled for 7am Thursday morning. I’m doing my best to remain positive and tell myself everything will be fine. Hopefully I’m just developing polka-dotted boobs. But I must admit this last bit of news has made me even more scattered-brained than I usually am. I could throw myself into a creative frenzy, but all I’ve really wanted to do is curl up on the couch with my babies. I’ve heard the old adage that the cemetery is full of people who didn’t have time to slow down and take a break. Maybe this is my cue.

Nov 4

16 Comments

Cathy: Crying out in the wilderness

I’m having one of those moments — one of those really bad moments of a stay-at-home mother or a writer. The kind where you can hear yourself screaming, but it’s as if everyone else in your home is looking right past you, no matter what you may be saying. In a movie, the lens would be panning through the doors, around the room and from a distance into close up, the sound of a scream gaining momentum until the camera is zooming into an open mouth of a crazed woman standing, in — Oh, I don’t know, let’s put her in the kitchen, with a steaming pot on the stove and a mess of undue proportion all around, but finally the camera goes into that cavern of a mouth, dodges past teeth and tongue, spotlights the uvula, and goes black, and silent. When the scene comes back up, she’s standing there, stunned look on her face, flyaway hair escaping ponytail, and breathing stiltedly.

This is also a common feeling for anyone who deals on a regular basis with someone on the autism spectrum. So I am having a triple whammy day of it — the regular wife and mother moment, the writer moment, and the aspie mom moment of it. So I thought I’d put it to good use. Maybe if someone stumbles across this blog as any one of the above, they’ll know they are not alone without having to feel like they should go on Oprah to talk about it. Following are just a few parts of my particular scenario that have led me to this moment:

  1. I’m still kind of feeling like I’m writing in a void since I don’t have an income from it, although I’m generally doing much better about that feeling while actively working on a novel.
  2. I spent much of yesterday, side by side with my aspie son, looking for the floor in his room — a sea of drawings, started and stopped over and over, because it just wasn’t perfect enough for him. He kept zoning out into whatever caught his attention. I kept calling his name and giving a different list: his list of choices to put things: paper to be recycled, paper to be saved, non-paper garbage or toy bucket. We made it about ¾ of the way through the mess in three hours, mostly by me and by my yelling “S- S- S– look at me — look at this — is this drawing to be saved or recycled? S- S- S– look at me — look at this — is this drawing to be saved or recycled? S- S- S– look at me — look at this — is this drawing to be saved or recycled?”
  3. My husband has not mowed the lawn in a month. The grass is taller than the dog. I know I got us out of the house last weekend for the whole weekend, essentially, so I intentionally backed out of plans for this weekend, except trick or treat, so that we could focus on what slid last weekend, especially the lawn. I finally started to ‘nag’ about it, and then he actively refused to do it. Now I must mention, we have a history with the lawn that involves my ‘green’ mower and doing it myself vs the gas mower and his doing it, in which I have been shut out of the argument due to my recent bedrest pregnancy complications and the fact that I’m still ‘recovering’ from that year in bed and one of the complications.
  4. I also have a teen son. His reaction time, if there is one, happens in stop gap motion. Have you ever seen anyone really look as if they are moving through molasses? That is K. And his slow motion voice has deepened to sound a lot like one of those slow motion effects, too. “Whaaaaaaa…”
  5. I’m more often than not, pinned nursing my lovely baby, which leads to a feeling of helplessness to accomplish one complete task from beginning to end. Not to mention the sleep deprivation involved. Too late.
  6. Economy is a huge issue and my darling husband is a classic sort — the quiet type who thinks he has to take care of it all himself and will probably give himself a heart attack trying rather than communicate better, so I end up having a freak-out moment because of the periodic buildup between us. Of course this only leads to my looking like a drama queen, and doesn’t get us effectively communicating, because he stands there in stunned silence at the monster who has taken possession of his petite, usually fairly sunny disposition wife, complete with flying laundry baskets.
  7. I have my period. Period.

Thanks for listening, and if you ever have the same feeling, feel free to leave a comment below. I must say, having vented, I feel much better already, nearly as well as if I had called a girlfriend and laughed about the same. Maybe now I can rewash that laundry that flew down the stairs last night along with the three day old few sips of coffee I had left by my bedside. Yuck, spotty.

Oct 9

5 Comments

Bethany: Do What You Love Today

Today was one of those days.

Well, honestly, there have been weeks of “those days.” Where work takes over my life. I’m cranky. Or my kids or grumpy (or sickly). I have too many plates in the air and they all come crashing down at once. And then I wonder why parenting is so hard… and my writing even harder. And today didn’t make any of that go away, or better than it started. But, I did get an email that made me remember why I write. Or at least a reminder TO WRITE that hit home.

If you follow fellow author Holly Lisle you’ll know she’s been writing for a while. She’s got more books published than I can count and she publishes a slew of e-books for writers. Not to mention an awesome email list/newsletter thing… that literally saved my weary soul today. Here’s an excerpt:

Just because this is the thing I love even more than I love writing about writing, and I have been missing it, and not even realizing how much I’ve missed it. Fiction is the art I labored at for seven years, unpaid, in between bloody hours in the ER and heartbreaking hours in the ICU, while my kids took naps, while my life fell apart and then came back together. Even if I’d never gotten paid for it, I’d still be writing.

Never do for money what you would not do for love.

…<snip>…
Because I finally remembered that no matter how busy you are, and no matter how much fun you might be having with what you’re doing, you have to make time for what you love most.

Write something you love today, just because you can.

So, in a moment of motivation and dreaming, in between my next batch of work meetings, I decided to have my lunch away from my desk. And not only was that an achievement (I haven’t done it in over a month), I would be damned if I didn’t write for at least 15 minutes. Minutes, I’d waste staring into space while waiting for food to digest or my mind to fade from my to do list… This time, I’d write.

And that I did. It wasn’t my finest work. Or my most creative. But it was writing. A new idea. A spark. Thoughts on paper. Written in longhand that somehow meant something. Even if it was just that I embarked on a new book idea and finally committed to it. Over my lunch hour.

My challenge to you: do what you LOVE to do today.

Mar 19

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Bethany: Hi. I’m Bethany. I’m lowering the bar.

It’s my new mantra. Let’s hold hands, take deep breaths, and recite after me:

“I, [insert name here], am going to not push myself to the point of exhaustion.  I, [insert name here], am going to let others help me. I, [insert name here], am going to let the chips fall where they may AND stay focused on the long term goals.”

Really, it’s been a rough few weeks here.  If it wasn’t a sickness thing, it was work.  And if wasn’t work it was a family thing. Or an errand to run.  Or a work call to take. Seriously–does it ever end?

The short answer is no.   Life will keep throwing stuff over the fence at you all the time. It’s up to you whether to take it as it comes and go with the flow.  Or the alternative.  Which is stressing out and causing everyone around you to feel the pressure.

Naturally, I’m a perfectionist. I’m a Type-A (just like Miranda).  I want to do it all. Hell, I try to do it all. But these past few weeks, the plain truth is in front of me.  It. Is. Impossible.  Honestly. Take a look at yourself.  All that you want to do.  And that all that you can really get done?  Does it match? If you’re like me, you ask too much of yourself.

So this week–and hopefully more long term–I’m trying to be more honest with myself.  Take inventory. Look around. And see what is realistic.  And more HEALTHY in expectations. Can I not write this week?  Bummer.  But guess what?  I got to spend quality time with my family and friends without the guilt.

And I’d like to think a little less that the bar is lowering. It’s more about putting the bar at the level where it should be, and balancing on it the “right” way.  Anyone else care to join me?

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