In 2013, Selfie topped the list of Oxford’s word of the year. It also topped many a list of words “please oh please” don’t ever say in 2014. With that in mind, and the focus on my writing works, I decided it was the perfect time to take an affirmation “selfie”. So to share with you my new author “that which shall not be said” photo op! Professionalism at it’s finest! Now I just need a cover to place it in….Here’s to 2014!
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My family and I recently went to the movie Frozen. As we left the movie theater my daughter ran in circles flinging her hands into the air as if she was Elsa and had the power to freeze things. She was unaware of the gawking eyes that followed her every move. I watched this angel in awe.
As you know, I want to publish a book. I am already an author as I write and have completed manuscripts, but I want to actually have my book published. I am afraid though. Afraid of what people might think of me, and what they might feel. What do they say about my writing in their own homes, I wonder. This blog is the first step in the direction of losing my fear. I sat with my mouse hovering over the post button the first time I shared something that I wrote and questioned my own abilities. I thought of my mini Elsa and clicked the button.
Now, I hate to admit, it is still not easy. I am still fearful of what others think. I wish it were not this way and I wonder how this is happens. My young daughter loves to sing. She loves to share her art and creativity with the world. She is so confident in her abilities that she once asked me, “Mom, do you think Jewel is mad at me?” I asked her what she meant by that, to which she responded, “Well, I can sing better than her, but she is pretty good too.” Will she loose this too? Did I once love sharing my words?
So in my New Year I will make a resolution to find my courage. The courage to believe in myself. To find joy in my own art and to share it with the world, no matter what they might think. I may never reach the place where I wonder if Lisa Gardner is mad at me, but I sure hope I can overcome the point where I wonder if others will like me.
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My very first public book review!
The Plague Legacy-Acquisitions by Christine Haggerty
I am not sure that if my family had been killed by the plague and I was about to board a ship to the land of gladiators, that I would want to survive. Cam, however, is not given a choice and with his kind heart and determined spirit I find myself cheering for him and thinking about him even when I am not actively reading this book. This is a gripping story about a boy’s hunt for his place in a very scary world, where the future of the entire population rides on his shoulders. There is a slice of love, mixed with danger and fear and an overwhelming desire for survival. It is a must read and I highly recommend it!
Can be purchased here: http://www.amazon.com/The-Plague-Legacy-Christine-Haggerty-ebook/dp/B00H15COZQ/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1388361858&sr=8-1&keywords=The+Plague+Legacy
As we spend time with family this holiday season, from my family to yours, we wish you a very Merry Christmas!
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Christmas is just around the corner and my family and I are busy in preparation. I love this time of year. The smells, the lights, the smiling faces and the music! I believe in God and our savior Jesus Christ. I believe in the true meaning of Christmas and in keeping Christ present.
I also believe in the Spirit of Santa Claus. I do not feel that he has taken away from the true meaning of Christmas, but just the opposite in fact. It is through the spirit of Santa Claus that I have witnessed more people being Christ-like this season than any other time of year. It is the act of giving, donating, and bringing awareness to others and their needs that show the true essence of Christ.
Instead of doubting humanity and the spirit that is Christmas, let us in our own homes ensure that our children understand the great sacrifice that was made for us, while still allowing them the joy and to see the good and kindness in others through the spirit of Santa Claus-as for some, that may be the only way. Instead of hoping others realize the true meaning of Christmas, I say let’s make a change, and challenge ourselves to live without judgement and keep the Christmas Spirit all year long. Not making others see as we do, but instead, see what we do. For that is the true meaning of Christmas.
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As mothers, we will never be good enough. Historically, and I know this from my mother and grandmother, they too felt inadequate. In their time, the expectation was that they have a clean house, good food on the table and well behaved children. The way they achieved this was through time spent cleaning, cooking, sending the kids outside, yelling and discipline, and a spank now and then. They now wish that things would have been left and they would have spent more time with their children.
If I am to believe what all of the blog posts are saying, the expectation today is that it’s all about the kids even to the extent that we should have dirty houses, quick meals, constant playing, and absolutely no yelling. Cherish every moment, and allow them to express their individuality. Not all, but the pattern of children now is a large group of entitled and disrespectful children that our elderly population just doesn’t get.
What are we to do? Well as for me, I am just going to do the very best that I can. I am a firm believer in all things in ration. Every day there are things I wish I did differently or better. Every night I accept my imperfections and forgive myself, starting tomorrow anew. What I know about myself and my raising of my children is this: If my child doesn’t listen, I might yell. If they misbehave, are disrespectful or rude, there will be consequences. They will know right from wrong, and know that God exists, watching our every action-but that there is great forgiveness. They will learn to play on their own, outside and in-this may include tv or a video game now and then-all things in ration. They will learn please and thank you and to send a card in the mail when words just aren’t enough. They will have a clean house and a good meal and it may take me all day sometimes. I will work and will sometimes text and be on the computer-there are others things important too, even if not as much. Through this, when they are older, they will realize how important it is to work hard, and also that they need to call each other and their friends once in a while to say hello. In high school, they won’t have large holes in their ears or tattoos on their arms, and their pants will cover their underwear-they can show their independence elsewhere. They will know they are loved, they are important, and that they are amazing souls that I am so blessed to be a part of their lives. They will know what it feels like to dance in the kitchen, and run around on hands and knees playing horses with me. They will know that my Barbie likes to flip her hair, and that my truck runs into a lot of things. They will know they can tell me anything and that I will help them, without judgment-but hopefully with advice. I will hug them every night and every day. I will drop everything to come to their rescue when they are hurt or need me. I will kiss them when they will let me and through my relationship with their dad, I will show them what love and friendship looks like. They will laugh and will know the meaning of family and that it is the most important thing above all else.
I will know, in the future, when I am doubting my decisions and full of “I wishes” that in the moment, I just did the very best that I could, and hopefully, when I pick up the phone to call them, on the other end will be a well-rounded, confident independent child that loves me (even a fraction) as much as they know I love them.
Originally Posted at: http://becauseiamamom.wordpress.com/2013/12/16/in-pursuit-of-motherhood-perfection/
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For my Grandpa, My Dad, and My Uncle, With Love!
No wranglers or boots could be found in the bunch
But they worked just as hard, straight through their lunch
Getting cows ready, so everyone would know
When they come in the fall, to which home they would go
They separate the calves away from their moms
While running and jumping with “hey’s” and “haw’s”
When they’re done, gate closed, it’s time to move on
Wait, one more calf is hiding behind its mom
They’re pressed to the corner like sardines in a tin
Then pushed in a row, they hate to get in
Stories are told throughout the whole day
“We used to jump ‘em, and hold ‘em, and cut ‘em away”
Then with a shock and a poke, the cow jumps in the chute
Then hurry, do your work, avoid the loose poop
The cow’s are no match for these burley men
They cut ‘em and tag ‘em and rubber band wrap ‘em
Let loose to the field, the work is now done
It’s a wonder to watch a father, and two sons
The work is a science after years of the same
Stories and laughter, and memories are gained
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Lights flashing, he pulls slowly to the side of the road. He reaches for his microphone on his shoulder and informs dispatch that he has arrived on the scene as he throws his car into park. He rushes to the black Jeep Cherokee that is on its side, roof pressed up against the concrete barrier, steam rising from the hood. Climbing up onto the side of the car to look in he finds only one passenger. He evaluates the scene, hoping that backup and the ambulance will arrive soon. Knowing that time is of the essence he moves to the back window. Using his baton, he strikes the glass watching as it crashes into innumerable pieces below him.
They clatter as they fall, like crystal confetti.
Pulling himself forward he leans into the car and reaches his hand to the seat in front of him. “Male subject, 25-30 years old, brown hair, glasses, wearing a blue polo and blue jeans” rattles through his brain. He runs his hands along the seatbelt until he finds the warm neck just above the end of the polo’s collar. He searches, fingers rooting for life.
”Damn it”, he says as he continues to reach around adjusting his feet as he finds himself sliding back down the side of the vehicle.
Sirens wail in the distance.
He presses on, hoping, praying for a sign. He finds nothing.
He pulls himself up from the window. He looks behind him to find another officer running his way, while the ambulance nears in the distance. Knowing that help is near, he turns and lowers his entire body into the side of the car. He is standing on broken glass, crouched between a large duffle bag and computer. He reaches both hands this time, one to hold the head in place, the other to again look for a pulse. Still nothing.
Help arrives.
“I can’t find a pulse. We have to get him out of here.” He says as the other officer begins working. The door is opened and hands cover his.
“We’ll take it from here.”
He looks into the face of a first responder as he removes his hands. He again begins cataloguing “No cell phone in sight, picture of a young woman with blonde hair on the dash, no car seats…”
He pulls the duffle bag with him as he exits the vehicle and returns to his car.
Another fatality.
The second this month.
The sound of his radar gun begins to ding as he watches a white car in the distance approach. The accident yesterday brought him back here again, hoping that he will be able to encourage other drivers to slow down, just by the presence of his car. This car is not slowing and as it passes by, he flips on his lights and pulls in behind.
The white, Toyota Camry, pulls to the side of the road. The officer checks carefully and then exits his vehicle. He can tell as he approaches that the female in the driver’s seat is upset. He knows he will not receive a warm welcome, but he puts on a kind face as he taps lightly on the window. He can very nearly see the steam of anger rolling off her as she rolls the window down.
“Good afternoon ma’am.” He says, “Do you know how fast you were going?”
“No why don’t you tell me.” She responds angrily.
“Well,” composure kept, “you were going 65 and the speed limit is 50, it’s really important to slow down for these turns.”
“I drive this canyon every day and I know the turns very well. I have a meeting to get to today.”
“Can I get your license and registration, please.”
She reaches beside her, in haste, and returns the papers to him.
He returns to his car, checking the information in his computer, and begins writing her a ticket. He doesn’t like doing this and makes sure to adjust the number down, hoping that her insurance increase won’t impact her every month. He thinks of the accident last night and looks up to see the anger the woman’s face in her rear view mirror as she talks aggressively on her cell phone.
No doubt she is blaming him. Most likely this event will make the social media in the form of “Cops in the canyon pulling everyone over-jerks,” or “I was only going maybe five over, seriously I can’t believe him.”
He will take this, even though it isn’t his job. Instead he will know that even though she doesn’t, he may have just saved her life. The man last night was only going five over. He doesn’t want to respond to another accident with her in it.
He returns to the car handing over the paperwork and the ticket. She rudely signs as he tells her that he reduced the speed. “I hope you slow-down in the future ma’am.” He says as she swallows his words with the closing window.
Returning to his car, the wind of a close passing semi-truck take his words, “Your Welcome” as she likely calls him a four letter word back into the cell phone. Maybe tomorrow she will slow down, and maybe tomorrow instead of responding to her accident, he will get to go home on time and have dinner with his family.
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In line with my love of stories and reading, I wanted to share a post that I wrote about grief on another blog. It shares a stronger glimpse into me and my passion for books.
The Kubler-Ross Model, commonly known as the Five Stages of Grief, breaks down feelings into five precise categories after someone suffers a loss. I know there are many more documents and articles on this subject that give acknowledgement to even seven different stages, but the five most commonly reported stages include:
Denial: “I feel fine,” “This can’t be happening, not to me.”
Anger: “Why me? It’s not fair!” “Who is to blame?”
Bargaining: “I’ll do anything for a few more years.”
Depression: “I’m so sad, why bother with anything.” “I miss my loved one, why go on?”
Acceptance: “It’s going to be okay.”
I have been feeling the words to this post for many months. My mother passed away four months ago and I have been wanting to put into words the way that I have truly felt. For some people, these five steps may be what they truly feel, and they may go in that very precise and organized fashion, but for me, I feel many feelings, in waves, like a cyclone. There is nothing organized from day-to-day for me, and I don’t feel that I will ever reach a stage of acceptance-at least not as is stated here.
My mother was ill and I knew that I would one day lose her, but I truly felt like I had a lot more time. I didn’t, it came unexpectedly and unfairly for me; and this is how I truly feel, did feel, and still feel. The adult in me, does realize that it is a blessing for her. Her blessing, not mine. I know she is no longer in pain and I know that for many years she made decisions to stay for her family, for me, for my daughter. I know this, and understand, but I am not the blessed one.
I find myself spending most of my time in the anger stage. Who is to blame, oddly enough, I don’t blame God or someone else, I feel anger toward my mother. Knowing she did nothing wrong, but I still need her. I need her to help me bring my unborn child into the world. I need her to make my daughter laugh, and I need to be able to call her, whenever, and receive her sound pieces of advice. Miranda Lambert has a song right now, that says, “But you went away, How dare you? I miss you. They say I’ll be okay. But I’m not going to, ever get over you.” That is my heart song to my mother. I love her deeply, but I was 29, pregnant, and I still needed my mom.
I don’t think I do much bargaining. Sometimes I wish I could turn back time, to see her, or do things that I wish I would have done. But in my adult heart, I do realize her blessing, and because I love her so much, I never would ask that she have to return to a life of pain. Somewhere in my soul I know that my mother is suffering in a new way now, because I feel that she misses me too. I think she misses my daughter. How could she not. There has to be some longing on her part as well, to be able to make me know things she also wished she could say. If there were anyway I feel she would bargain herself to be there for me to bring my son into the world. I know she is around, and I will share stories as they come, but I know she would bargain, so I will let her do that for me-knowing, neither one of us, would ever get it right. This does not make me a saint, or unselfish. Refer to the song No More Pain by Point of Grace. I just had some understanding of what she went through.
I do feel depression, and this like everything else comes in waves. Mothers Day was the hardest for me, because it was also her birthday. I find that I confine myself to the depths of a book or novel when I am really sad. If I do this I don’t have to think about her, and miss her. I know it isn’t fair to me, or to my family, but I would sometimes rather just hide for a while. It also creeps up on me out of nowhere. When I hear a song, or see something that reminds me of her, or when I am filled with the need to pick up the phone and call her. It is a deep and overwhelming depression, but mostly I just feel sad. I am not sure in these five stages, where the “sadness” is. I feel this more than anything. I just miss her. I’m sad for the memories I will never make, and that I miss the ones I have. I took a lot of pictures, and for that I am very grateful, but they still aren’t the same is being able to smell her exotic tea tree oil, or the smell of E6000 glue when she would craft. I have her hats that she made for me and my daughter, but I miss the feel of her hands when she hugged me, or held my face to tell me I was loved. Maybe for me, depression is sadness and it floats around me like a cloud. I miss her everyday, I love her, and I still sometimes find myself wondering if it is real. When I pick up the phone to call and tell her something, and realize there is nobody on the other end of the line, I feel sad, I long for her, and I love her.
I am not sure about this whole acceptance piece. I guess sure, I realize she isn’t coming back, but it doesn’t mean I like it so I get stuck in the other areas over and over again. In the book To Heaven and Back by Mary Neal she says, (much more eloquently I am sure) that when a person suffers a true loss, it is not something that they will ever “work through” or “get over. Instead, you just learn to work the new pain into your life and your future. Maybe that is where the sadness kicks in. In my personal cyclone it would be here.
These feelings swirl about me sometimes daily, sometimes weekly and I find myself realizing that is my new world. My mother is gone. Her memory remains but the tangible piece that is her, that I need in my life, will never be there again. It isn’t fair to me, but because I love my mom so much, I am happy for her blessing. As an adult I feel that, but the child inside me still screams, “I want my mommy.”
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