Child's Play

2010 - A New Year's Revolution

2010-01-08T07:21:00.000-08:00

So, I ended the year 2009 with a bang. You see, in the month of December I found out that the entire firm that I work for was moving by the end of the year which led to a ridiculous amount of overtime during a three week period throughout which both my husband and son were sick. I had to face a lot of stress, mentally and physically, as I was at work very late, doing physical labor with an injured back and not sleeping much at all because my newborn son was sick and my husband, while vowing to do it all, couldn’t do it ALL. This sleep deprived, pain and exhaustion filled month taught me a lot. I feel like I took a few steps backwards in my brain and that bothered me – almost as much as the few new facts I learned. So, 2010 – things are going to change and here’s how. Be ready – this one is a very personal journey into the depths of my brain. Another deep one…

1) I Need to Stop Complaining, Stop Being Lazy and MOVE – Have you ever listened to yourself talk and say any of the following things in your head – “What the hell am I talking about?” “Why am I still talking?” “Does the person I am speaking to even care about what I’m saying?” or “If I would stop talking about this, I could get to work?” Well, then you are me. It’s a flaw and I admit it. There is something about me that needs to purge my system when I’m upset about something before I can do anything about it. At the end of the day, I take care of whatever I’m complaining about, but not before completely flipping out about it. This must be a system of having gone to therapy for my anger management issues and probably keeps me from breaking walls, computer screens and some people’s faces, but still, I will have to find another way around it. And here’s why.

Sometimes, when I run off at the mouth because I’m upset, I say things out of frustration that I don’t really mean and should have taken a second thought about. Sometimes, I end up embarrassing myself because of that. Sometimes, I spout off to whoever is free to listen to me and this leads me to talk to people who do not always have my best interest at heart…see item 2….Sometimes this whole process is counterproductive and SOMETIMES, people just get sick and tired of hearing me – which I actually get sick to death of too. I just get tired of talking about things that bother me and I can’t stop. This has always been a flaw of mine and I have decided it is time for this to end.

Not to go all preachy on my readers, but I teach the kids in Sunday School to only speak when they have something important or caring to say, or else you are bound to say something that never should have left your lips – I need to start following my own advice. It’s all sweetness and light for me from here on out – unless I’m speaking to someone who actually can take my rambling, return it, and be trusted with it. Those people are few and far between and you all know who you are. And you are the only people worthy of hearing it.

2) I Need to Stop Caring What Other People Think and Start Paying Attention to Who My Real Friends Are – Again, another long term problem for me that needs to stop. There are people in my life that I must deal with but that I hate with a burning passion that can not be avoided or denied. Since I can not purge them from my life, I need to deal with them instead. And yet, when they say something negative about me or to me, I get upset! Offended! Why wouldn’t these people like me? I have never done anything to them. The funny thing is, these people are not really my type of people. And yet despite the fact that I can’t stand who these people are, it actually bothers me that they don’t like me! How is this possible?!

The truth is, this shouldn’t happen. I think about it and the truth of the matter is that I LOVE ME. I have a lot of fun with me. We have a great time together and I enjoy time spent with me. So do a lot of other people. I may be weird and awkward and more than a little loopy, but there are plenty of people who go with it. So, why oh why, would it not be enough for these people who I actually like to like me and for the rest to go continue to live in their little not liking me bubble? Well, it should be. So move on, folks who don’t like me. Not everyone NEEDS to like me…and I don’t got no time for those who don’t (that was a little grammar-spasm for you readers out there…). It’s a brand new day.

3) I Need to Take Better Care of Myself – I don’t eat right. I don’t exercise. I don’t sleep enough (although that was destined to happen with a baby in the house – but I never did). I pile too many things on myself and don’t take the time to have fun. I drag myself to work when I feel like I might die there. I don’t go to the doctor when I should. There are things my body does, I can’t figure out why and I self-diagnose. I don’t take my vitamins. These are all things that I need to take care of. After all, I’ve got a baby to worry about now, and I need to set an example for him. If I don’t take my vitamins, how am I ever going to get him to do it?

4) I Need to Be a Person I Can Be Proud of Again – What does a person I can be proud of look like? She doesn’t complain. She is strong, she speaks up for herself and she doesn’t cry every time someone says something bad about her. She stays healthy. Not THIN but HEALTHY. She takes care of her husband and her son the best way she knows how. She is wise. She takes chances. She finishes what she starts. She has many facets.

She is me – or at least, she is who I hope to be by the time I’m writing my 2011 New Year’s Blog. I know it’s a little late, but Happy New Year’s everyone.

All my love,

A Brave New Girl…

Names Have Been Changed to Protect the Innocent...

2009-12-04T12:35:00.000-08:00

The other day, someone was fired at my best friend’s job for claiming he was having an affair with her. She had never even met the guy, but here he was, claiming that he had spent the weekend with her on an intimate getaway. I heard this and told her, “Only us! This would only ever happen to one of us.” And then I was chatting with a friend and told her the tale with a chuckle, and she told me “Your life gets weirder and weirder every time you talk, I swear.” And that’s when I realized it – I would be the best writer in the world, I would have more material than anyone else out there, I would proliferate bookshelves – if I could just betray all my friends and family and shout out all of their business.

Seriously, I have seen a lot of things in my almost 27 years (27 as of December 29th, for anyone who is counting…or buying birthday gifts). Some of the things I have seen have been good. I have seen what the love of family members and friends can do for a person. I have seen people get very happily married. I have watched people raise amazing kids. I have fallen in love and had an amazing kid of my own. I have seen my friends and family win awards, triumph over adversity and find unbelievable success. I have watched loved ones discover who they really are and find themselves amidst overwhelming opposition. I have become a Sunday School Teacher, despite how completely screwed up I should be. I have watched loved ones survive a long time with health issues that should have killed them. I have watched people with talent flourish. I have walked away from crappy friends, only to find out 12 years later that they have grown into someone I can actually talk to. I have half adopted any child around me, as I love them all. I have helped people.

Some of the things I have seen and experienced have been bad. I have watched abuse in all its forms happen and I have watched nobody say a thing about it. I have watched people I loved dearly struggle with addiction. I have watched somebody slowly go insane right before my very eyes. I have watched people struggle with less forceful, but just as debilitating mental illnesses such as depression and bipolar disorder. I have been friends with people who are so sick they have no idea if tomorrow is an option for them. I have been told the phrase “If I die tomorrow, this is what I would want you to do,” with some immediacy. I have had a knife held to my throat. I have witnessed illness and I have experienced it. I have helped people struggling with Dementia and Alzheimer’s. I have watched teenagers get themselves into life altering trouble. I have had frenemies. I have had enemies. I have watched the hearts of the people I love break. I have had my own heart broken. I have known people struggling with infertility and I have known people who use abortions like birth control (not an argument against abortion, just an argument against going through them like water). I have watched divorce and separation break people and families. I have seen discrimination and I have seen unfairness. I have watched people lose their jobs for real reasons and I have seen people’s lives devastated for the sake of petty bull crap. I have seen infidelity on bold display and I have seen it carefully hidden. I have seen people get caught in the act. I have seen people abandon their children completely for no good reason that I can see. I have given people advice that was absolutely terrible. I have been completely unable to help some people.

Some of the stuff I have encountered is just plain weird. I have watched people make up a million stories simply because they were starved for attention. I have worked some pretty weird jobs and had some pretty strange things happened to me at them. I have quit jobs for some very strange reasons. I have seen people freak out and act like somebody else, completely. I have watched people fight over the stupidest things. I have gained friendships and lost friendships in the weirdest ways.

I have lived. It’s a weird life. It’s a very full life for someone some would still consider a kid. But the truth is, for those who know me, I may act immature, but that’s because I’ve never had the chance to be. I’ve watched things unfold before my eyes and have deemed myself entitled to my share of silliness. And I’m proud of that.

My experiences may have been overwhelming, but they have also been incredible. And that variety has opened me up to a world of possibilities in my writing and in my life. When crap goes down, I know the score and when I need my characters to go through an experience, I have a gigantic bag of tricks to grab from – although names will certainly be changed to protect the innocent. Wouldn’t want anybody’s privacy being violated, now would we?

Thanksgiving...

2009-11-25T11:38:00.000-08:00

This is my first Thanksgiving since the birth of my son. Logan’s first Thanksgiving. It’s almost a shame that he’s not quite old enough for some turkey and gravy. But he has the opportunity to experience so much more about the holiday. He has the opportunity to experience family togetherness. And so do I.

When I look back on where I was last year on Thanksgiving, it was the second best day of my life. The first best day of my life was August 1st 2009 – the day my son was born. The third best day of my life was July 7, 2001 – the day I married my husband. And the second best day of my life was Thanksgiving of last year, when I woke up at 5 in the morning having to use the bathroom and decided that it was time to take that pregnancy test I had been thinking about for a week.

You see, my maiden name is Minners, and the weekend before Thanksgiving is always when the Minners Family and their significant others sit down for our dinner. This is a long standing tradition. At that point I had been nauseous for two weeks and we had been trying, so I was almost positive I was pregnant – despite the fact that I had taken a test a couple of mornings before that had come out negative. But I felt really weird. So, sure I was pregnant (and my family would have been really pissed if I hadn’t been), I let the cat out of the bag and told them I thought I was. After all, my family doesn’t always get to see a lot of each other, and I would want to tell them in person – when would I get another opportunity like that? So I did, and my family made me promise to let them know as soon as I knew for sure.

So I decided, before I packed up and headed out to my husband’s father’s house, I would probably want to know for sure. Still having a pregnancy test left over from the box I had bought the week before, I woke up to pee and decided rather than waste the pee, I should pee on the stick of destiny. So I did – while Ismael was putting up new shower curtains in my bathroom. Hey! No judgment! Peeing in the same room as your husband is doing chores is a luxury that belongs to a married couple with no kids! But I digress.

Three minutes later, we were freaking out. The test read positive – I was pregnant! So I began to systematically make plans to see everyone so I could tell them all in person. And only two people guessed what it was all about – my sister-in-law Jeannie, who asked me on the spot, and my friend Kat, who told her boyfriend Will what I was going to say before I said it.

So, that’s where I was last year – I had just found out I was pregnant and I was jazzed by the possibilities and daunted by the nine month wait before I would get to meet my little Ziggy (Ziggy the Zygote was what I nicknamed him before I knew he would be a Logan).

So much has changed since then. My husband Ismael and I, if possible, are even closer and more on the same wavelength than we have ever been. We have developed an understanding and an ability to listen to each other like we have never had in the past. Our families and friends have gone through a lot. Since getting pregnant I have gone to weddings, discovered other pregnancies, and had the best Baby Shower a girl could ask for. I graduated college and was the maid of honor in my best friend’s wedding. I have learned a lot about my friends and family I had never known. Wounds have been made, wounds have been healed. I have seen friends find new homes and I have seen friends mend their broken ones. Pregnancy made me a more outgoing person, because I had a built in subject to talk about and that led to a friendship with two of my closer friends now. I have relished in the people who have made themselves Logan’s honorary aunts and uncles.

So here I sit, one year later. I have a baby and my baby has one mommy, one daddy, one great grandmother, many great aunts and uncles, four grandmothers, three grandfathers, twelve aunts, eight uncles, and six cousins (a great deal of aunts, uncles and cousins are honorary). And I am thankful – for each and every one of them and for every blessing I have had in my life in the last year. Things have changed, relationships have changed and things have moved forward. And I have been blessed.

The Writing Games I Play...

2009-11-20T08:19:00.001-08:00

In my attempt to re-spark my writing life, I have begun to play games to keep my imagination open. I’m trying for writing inspiration. I don’t really have time to sit down and write so much anymore, so I’ve been working on exercises that keep my brain going on the right track, so when the time comes where I can sit down, concentrate and write, something will actually come out! By the way, I write fiction, so these are largely fiction related exercises. So, this is the stuff I am currently doing to keep the writing portion of my brain functioning.

Strange Habit #1: The TV Game: This is a fun little exercise to do, as an obsessed TV fan, which I am. You see, I love many shows, many of them so religiously that I can recite them backwards and forwards. When a show comes along that I love that much, I like to play this little game. I create a character that could exist within the cannon of the show. If it’s a detective show, it’s a fellow cop, an adventure show, a fellow traveler, an action show, a fellow fighter. I give this character a name, a backstory and a life within the frame of the show, creating storylines for that character that relate to the show’s main characters. Sometimes, my characters bend the entire storyline, and I have to shift characters, and storylines to fit my needs, thus creating whole new timelines like an alternate universe. This is fun because it keeps you on your toes, especially when the show is still running, as you may need to shift your storyline as it progresses. I have often found that a specific relationship or circumstance my character finds himself in will have a story all it’s own that I find to be novel-worthy. Though I have yet to write my first novel, the four (yes, two blogs ago it was three) ideas that are still in development stages have all developed, in their rawest state, out of this game.

How is this not stealing? Aside from the copyrighters nightmare that is the phrase “There is no such thing as an original idea,” the stories I come up with are usually completely independent of the original source work. For example, watching Spiderman (and yes this works for movies too) inspired a story about a childhood romance gone very wrong. How, well, that’s what makes me a writer – but through a series of schizophrenic relational thoughts, I was able to pull out a solid novel idea. And if you don’t get a novel out of it, that’s ok. At least you get to exercise your brain.

Strange Habit #2: The Music Game: This one is an exercise for a story you already have going. Have an idea and some characters, but you’re missing integral plot developments or characteristics necessary to make the story go? Here’s what I do: I sit down for a brainstorming session. I put my iPod on shuffle. When the first song comes up, I listen to the lyrics intently and try to match up each line I hear with a character or specific situation in my story. Some will inherently fail, some will succeed amazingly well and will trigger a brainstorming…well…storm, that will have you jotting down ideas for a few songs to follow. Lather, rinse, repeat. Do this as directed for about an hour and you will either be brimming with new ideas perfect to fill in the missing pieces in your story or you will be rethinking the story’s entire structure. I guarantee it (in that way where I can’t really guarantee it because every writer is different.)

Strange Habit #3: The Idea Book: This is one that doesn’t require a writing idea at all. I’ve been working on a journal lately to collect things that inspire me. It could be a picture that captures a certain emotion – I’ll tape it into the book. Sometimes it’s a picture of a place I would love something to take place in – like a really great picture of a dive bar, that you know you could use for an awesome description later. Sometimes it’s just cool character names you thought of or heard or a person’s habits that you think are interesting. I once had a professor that pronounced every letter of a word – even the silent ones. So length had a “g” in it and width had a “d” in it. Not only did it make it very difficult for me to get through my geometry class, but it served as something I could definitely see myself giving to a character in the future. Probably someone annoying. (My apologies to any of my readers who pronounce their words this way. You are probably not annoying. Maybe.) You could also dump ideas there that are half formed. Like so – “Maybe I should write a story about what a group of people would do if they knew the world was going to end tomorrow. Would they retain their morals? Would they dive in blindly? And would they be granted temporary insanity if the world never did end?” (Actual quote from my idea book) It’s not a fully formed idea, but it’s something to think about in the future. So, the idea book becomes the dumping ground for things you can’t use yet, but just know you are going to. Even if you never use it, it will keep you thinking.

Strange Habit #4: The “Could Get You Beaten Up On The NYC Subway” Habit: You don’t need to do this on the Subway, you can do it in any public place where there are people around. A restaurant. Laundromat. Anything like this – it’s actually a fun game, even if you’re not a writer. Select a person that interests you. Try not to stare too much as even though I don’t know who you are, your life is important to me. Then, work out their life story. Do they have a scar? Make up a story about how they got it. Do they look sad? Make up a story about why they might be sad. It’s a nice little exercise in observing people’s behaviors that can teach you a lot about people. A true writer is a snoop. Remember, please, don’t get beaten up.

Ok, so that was my attempt to be a serious writer and give you some tips. Even if you aren’t a writer, I hope you enjoyed the view into my wacky writer brain. Maybe next time when you catch me staring out into space blankly, you’ll know what I’m doing. Or at least you’ll hope that’s what I’m doing…

Who I Am Hates Who I've Been...

2009-11-13T09:00:00.000-08:00

Today, something really aggravating happened to a very close friend. Anybody who has known me for more than a couple of years would have expected an explosion, as it used to be my general way of reacting to everything. Instead, I took a deep breath, asked the person PERMISSION to contact the responsible party and yell at them, which was naturally denied, made a few jokes about their supposedly impending murder at my hands, and then moved on. I looked in the mirror when I hung up the phone and I didn’t recognize myself. What the hell just happened? Since when did I ask permission to do something like that? Where was my impulsive side, my angry side? And did I want it gone?

Sometimes, I miss the me that thought she was invincible. If someone I loved was in trouble I would throw myself right into the situation, whether it was someone being yelled at at work, or someone about to get their ass kicked by a couple of gang members. Yes, I was crazy. But I figured I was charming enough, cute enough, arrogant enough or crazy enough to solve every problem. Sometimes when I look at some of the things I have done and said, I marvel at my alive-ness. People get killed for a lot worse. And yet, at the time, my mind didn’t question it. I was ready to go. And I certainly would never ask for permission.

At some point, it occurred to me that this behavior was a tad insane. I know it is wrong, it is dangerous, and often times, it is a frivolous indulgence in my own need to LOOK tough. But other times I mourn the loss of this person. She was a super hero. People would call her and ask her for help in solving their problems and she would gladly jump in, valiantly protecting those she loved with very little concern for her own well being. I have to admit, there was a certain amount of courage to the way I would behave, although at this point I am unsure of whether or not it was outweighed by stupidity.

I would like to say that having my son changed things, but I guess this started happening a little earlier than this. Certain battles slowly lost their worth in fighting. I just got so tired of fighting for myself and everybody else. I had ambition, and that was a fight that was important for me and my family. I had the need to rise above the mistakes and tragedies of my past, and that was another fight worth fighting. But yelling at my friend’s girlfriend cuz she said something annoying to him, or wrapping myself up in the drama of my family and friends became downright exhausting – no offense to them, most especially because most times they just called me to listen and I came over to their home 10 minutes later with boxing gloves on.

There are still times where I feel a cause needs my special attention, but I don’t go looking for it, especially because my son needs his mother and my husband needs his wife and dividing my attention in a million other pieces just isn’t worth the loss. My superhero complex certainly takes a back seat to that. And then there’s just the simple fact that at the end of the day, I’m just too exhausted to fight everyone else’s battles for them. It’s just too much work because eventually everybody else’s problems become yours too – then you end up getting attacked even when the monkey-in-the-middle that brought you into the situation isn’t. And nobody wants that.

There are also some times when it’s just plain nosy to get involved, as much as you may not care.

So, I’m calling myself a grown up and attempting to quell the embarrassment of the overwhelmingly angry busy-body I once was. I still enjoy being a superhero, but I’m learning to pick my battles in the hopes of creating a smarter, less angry and safer me.

Today, I am officially turning in my cape to spend some time as my non-super alter ego, and to hopefully learn to like the me that’s not rushing to the rescue a little more. But the good thing about willfully retiring my super hero status is that it will always be there in the background…just in case I still need it one day.

Announcements: My blog has been syndicated: Check it out at www.g-pop.net.

Also, check out my list of followed blogs for my husband Ismael's Dime Store Philosophy and my brother, Jon's The Milk's Gone Bad. Both very good and interesting reading.

Until next time, enjoy!

Time Keeps On Slipping...

2009-11-06T05:05:00.000-08:00

Hey everyone! Before I start on my new topic of conversation, my blog is in syndication! Check out the first post on http://www.g-pop.net/childsplaymomforaday.html. Check out the rest of the site too. I've written for it quite a bit and there's a lot of really great arts and entertainment stuff there too.

Also, my husband, Ismael, who is far crazier and funnier than I am has started his own blog. It's called Dime Store Philosophy. Check it out here.

And now on to the main post...

As you all know, I am setting out on the road towards rebalancing my life. You may be wondering what exactly brought this whole rebelling against reality thing on. The answer is easy. Having been away from reality for 11 weeks while on maternity leave, I got a real taste of life with a veritable clean slate. Because when Logan was asleep (moments that were few and far between, I might add), all of the things I normally did to keep myself busy were gone. I wasn’t at work for 10 hours a day (when you count commuting) and, having graduated from years of college that May, I know longer had classes or homework to worry about. I was in a position I hadn’t been in since summer vacations when I was 13. I had nothing to do that I would normally do. After years of going to school and working nearly every day of my life, I had not become a domesticated individual. I didn’t know how to stay inside and cook and clean and just spend time with my family.

It wasn’t as though when Logan fell asleep, I was bored. It was that, when Logan fell asleep, I was faced by the sheer magnitude of possibilities of all that I could be doing and I clammed up. So I did nothing at all. And I know why. I have always been a slave to a schedule. This comes from the mild case of OCD (Obsessive Compulsive Disorder) that I have. And no I am not joking. So, I make myself insane because instead of obsessively checking if the oven’s off or obsessively cleaning my hands, I’m an obsessive time checker. This means that I break my time down into hour long chunks in which I should be doing whatever task I assign myself and only that task. And when a phone call comes through in the middle of it, I have to force myself out of that routine and into a new one. It’s not so bad that I can’t control it, and I would fend it off at work or at school with excessive overworking. At work, my co-workers would see it come out as running to my boss and constantly asking for more work. My work life has become a constant mantra of “Do you need anything?” to everyone around me. As for school – if a lecture didn’t particularly hold my interest I was doing some of the homework for that class at the same time. Sometimes I think that if it weren’t for my OCD, I would have never gotten any homework done!

So, as the mother of a new baby, my OCD faces two problems. One – you can’t schedule a baby and the first few weeks involved me going a little insane because Logan would cry in the middle of a task I had assigned myself – which involved me forcing myself to pull away from that and move to something else and makes me very anxious. I was used to controlling my OCD at work and at school, but never at home. Eventually, I learned to make time alone with Logan one of those places where the scheduling only worked when he was asleep. And I slowly learned to handle that.
The second problem was scheduling when I could schedule. THERE WAS SO MUCH MORE TO DO NOW and I had HOURS AT HOME. I made a to-do list and nearly went crazy. Where could I begin? I still hadn’t baby-proofed my apartment yet (thank God he’s too young to get into things), my apartment looks like it’s been the victim of a cyclone, my friends and family (and my husband and I were blessed with a lot of people in each category) all want to see us and we want to see them, I have tons of little home organization projects that I have started and not finished, I really need to learn how to cook (something that was never close to a priority until I realized that kids can’t eat fast food nearly as many times a week as I do – and neither should I), never mind the three novels I’ve started working on that I never finished, the fact that I want to write short stories, articles, all of my professional endeavors. WHERE THE HELL DO YOU START????

And that’s when I realized that, no matter when, no matter how, writing had to become one of my priorities again. I wouldn’t let it get in the way of my new and growing family, but it had to be there. It was a sanity maker for me – a part of who I was that didn’t need scheduling, that just flowed like wine when it was done right. And I had spent more time phoning it in on writing than I truly cared to admit. I have so many things I want to do professionally and writing is just the start to many of those, but I saw that, if that start wasn’t made, I would be left with very little that made me the truly original person that I had grown to love.

So here I am – writing. I’m a fiction writer by nature, so it’s not exactly the same thing. But it’s something. It’s the re-establishment of brain to hand thinking. And I love it. Because it’s me.

The Return to Normalcy

2009-10-30T12:35:00.001-07:00

Ask any mother, and they will tell you that being a mother completely changes you. But they sugar coat it. They say, “Oh my God, you’re life is never going to be the same. For the rest of your life, you will now be a mother!” And that sounds great. But what they don’t tell you (unless they are a really good friend…and actually notice the changes themselves) is HOW it changes you.
There is a new baby in your home and now you must live for him. Very easily you slip into this life where everything revolves around him. When you go to a bookstore you walk to the kid’s section, which you only really ever found yourself in when buying a book for your nephew. Where you would once read your magazines about the field of writing, you are now reading parenting magazines and constantly on the search for the best and cheapest formula, bottle and diapers. You suddenly know everything you need to know about first aid – just in case.
Everything is a missed opportunity to be a toy. You find yourself finding a bottle of water interesting because of the grooves in it, emptying it, bringing it home and rolling it around in front of your kid to see how he reacts. You talk to the mural on your wall because your kid smiles every time he sees the monkey in it. You find it perfectly justifiable to dance around your living room, jump around and make silly faces because it keeps him from crying for those 2.5 seconds.
In short – you turn into a kid. And it’s fun.
But one of the things that, no matter how many times they told me, I never got, was how much I would change, how much my adult interaction would change, with becoming a parent.
You lose all sense of privacy. This is something I am attempting to fight against, as nobody really wants to know as much about you as you are suddenly willing to share now that you’re a mother. And this doesn’t come from the baby himself. This comes from the pregnancy. Because when you are pregnant, nobody feels funny about asking you even the strangest questions. Some will ask you sweet, harmless questions with easy, unobtrusive answers. When are you due? How far along are you? Is it a boy or a girl? How are you decorating the nursery? Will you be a stay at home mom or a working mom? Then, some people ask you some really rude questions that make you wonder why they speak at all. Did you plan to have this baby? What does your husband think about you being pregnant? Aren’t you kind of young? Do you plan to breast feed or bottle feed? How much did you throw up today? And my all time favorite, from a complete stranger, are you even married?
Before you know it, you find yourself doing it too. You are no longer ashamed of registering for breast shields for your breast pump. You tell anyone near you that you just threw up in the bathroom. You don’t even get too embarrassed when you sneeze-fart in the middle of a lecture hall because you no longer have any control over your bodily functions. And when people ask you how much you dilated before they skipped to the c-section, you gladly tell them 3 centimeters, because after spending a day and a half of having people come into your hospital room every couple of hours to shove their hands into your lady business (sometimes without any announcement, leaving you wondering, that was a doctor, right?) you find that privacy no longer matters.
Until you go back to work…and you realize that there are people who probably don’t want to know that your baby couldn’t latch onto your nipple or that your baby’s poop smelled so rancid after breast feeding that you discovered he needed lactose free formula so you wouldn’t suffocate from the smell and so he would stop being constipated.
So, how do you go back to normal adult interaction after that? You have no filter, you think like a child, and have no other topics of conversation aside from that cute thing Logan did today. How does one return to normalcy? Well, I’ll let you know when I figure that out. Till then, I’m going to go see if I can change Logan’s diaper without accidentally eating the pee he shoots out like a fountain. But you probably didn’t want to know that, did you?

Mom for a day seeks new direction...

2009-10-23T08:30:00.000-07:00

I have always dreamt big.

When I was a little girl, I wanted to be a teacher with all my heart. Hell, I was in fourth grade when I first began to tutor people. I enjoyed it, the idea of helping someone to process an idea they once couldn't. Then, I evolved, and my dream became to perform. And I was good at it. The singing part, anyway. The acting part, well, I was atrocious. Why nobody saved me from myself, I don't know, but I actually tried to do this professionally. You know, when you're a girl with a little bit of chunk, it's hard enough to get into performing, especially if you're bad at it. And music - well, after being told to crash diet and lose 20 pounds in two weeks, I knew where that career was going. Garbage-land. So I moved on. I fell into the day-to-day routine, got a real job and found a new passion. Writing!

So, why did the girl who always dreamt big spend most of her Monday morning last week attempting to scrub the baby spit-up off of her sweater so she could return, after 11 weeks of maternity leave, to the job that she has very little passion for? Well, REALITY - the eternal equalizer of all men and women, third only to birth and death! (Have I mentioned that I have a flair for the dramatic?)

Don't get me wrong - it was also a dream of mine to be happily married with kids and a great support network and I've got two and a half of those things (reality is currently forcing "kids" to be "kid"). But what reality has also done is put up a challenge in front of me. I want to be a writer - reality tells me that between my job, my baby, my husband and all the incredible people in my life I simply don't have the time to be a writer. I want a job that has ANYTHING to do with my double BA in Creative Writing and Media Studies. Reality is telling me that toiling away in my particular brand of office is the only way for me to get paid enough to stay afloat, as things currently stand (forget a college education for my son - that will take a little more work). So, my personal life makes me happy. My professional life, however, has some misgivings. And while Reality may be challenging me, anybody who knows me well enough, knows I don't step down from a challenge.

So what is this blog for? This is me, on a mission. Screw reality! It's time for me to start finding a way to move forward instead of to stay in one place. And this is my journey - to be a mother, be a wife, be a friend and be successful, because despite what reality is telling me, I believe you CAN have everything you want. I believe I WILL have everything I want. I also believe it's going to take some time...

...so strap in and be prepared for a bumpy ride. Cuz Life only gets more complicated the longer we live it.