Category Archives: Blogging

White Quiet

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SONY DSC

It’s 2:22 a.m. on Thursday morning.  I fell asleep at 9 p.m. and woke at midnight.  Since then, I’ve been reading “The Golem and the Jinni” and trying to fall back to sleep.  But there’s too much weirdness in the air–our routines are off because of the ice storm.  I think my brain has tried to do so much prepping and planning for a crisis that hasn’t happened that I can’t turn it off now.  So let’s roll with it.

If I’m up at 2:22 a.m., might as well see that phase of the day that I usually miss.  I tried to get Huck to go out in the front yard with me, but he knows he’s not supposed to be out there without a leash.  I stood in the shelter of the garage while he waited nervously by the kitchen door.  The city is a pink glow behind the pines at this hour.

We went to the deck and he hurtled down the stairs and into the bright night.  It’s strange to hear the crunch of his steps.  I’ll try to remember that.  Smoke drifts from my new neighbor’s chimney.  I haven’t been over to say hello yet, but I enjoy the smell of his wood fires.  Oops–there’s Vivi’s jacket that I hung out here to dry the other day–frozen solid.  I prop it against the wall for her to see in the morning.  The bird feeders need filling again.  I wonder where all those birds sleep.

It’s so quiet that I can hear the river.  It truly does whisper.

One snowflake drifts down onto my cheek and I’m sure it’s a hello.

Huck is watching me from his crate, a white dog on a white cushion in a white world.  Nose as black as a polar bear’s and a pair of sleepy eyes.  But he’ll stay up with me if I need him.

But maybe it’s time to sleep.  Maybe some writing was what I needed to turn off my brain.  To find rest.

Good night.  Good morning.  Good day.

A Year, In Numbers

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YearInNumbers

365 days since I started writing Baddest Mother Ever

301 posts about everything from panties to heartache to parenting to courage

101,500+ –  page views

2327 – most views in a single day (my Grandmama’s panties went viral)

3047 – comments from awesome readers like YOU!

1796 – Facebook fans…oops, make that 1795…WHAT DID I DO WRONG???  COME BACK!!!

257 – Twitter followers (@Baddest_Mother)

3 – number of times I’ve been approached out in public and asked “Do you write Baddest Mother Ever?” and number of times I have stuttered with glee, “Yes!”

1 – paid blogging gig over at Work It, Mom!

2 – magazine articles published

10 most popular posts this year (and the About page):

If You Walk Out of Your Panties…    
Cry Havoc and Let Slip One Inch of Snow    
About    
My Daily Tangle With Prejudice    
Dust to Dust    
A Tuesday Kind of Miracle    
Looking for the White Knight    
The Door Mat    
Stolen Chicken and Racism    
A Blue Bead for Boston    
If He’ll Cheat With You…    
The Engagement Fart    

2 words I can’t say enough – THANK YOU.

2014 – Going to be the Best Year Yet!

3 goals for Year #2 – 1000 email subscribers; 5000 Facebook followers; 250,000 page views

Thank you.  Thank you.  Thank you.  For reading.  For sharing.  For coming back on the boring days.  For telling me when the words line up the right way and say something to you.  Thank you.

love life

A Room of One’s Own

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Virginia Woolf once wrote, “A woman must have money and a room of her own if she is to write fiction.”

Well, now I have one less excuse to write my Great American Novel.  Here is my room:

It's so CLEAN!!!!

It’s so CLEAN!!!!

This is a short list of  things that will not be allowed in my room:

  • Sticky fingers
  • Legos
  • Nick Jr
  • cymbals
  • whining
  • kvetching
  • malingering
  • moaning
  • farting
  • dirty dishes
  • Gogurt
  • any of those TV shows with Hitler or aliens or Hitler’s Aliens
  • Juice
  • Glitter (with exceptions made on a case by case basis for drag queens)
  • Glue
  • Glitter glue

Any stains on the carpet will be made by ME.  Any books left lying around will be left lying by ME.  If the window is left open, it was left open by ME.  The only person flopped out on the couch in front of an open window with a book…shall be ME.  I will NEVER walk into the room and find anyone else already in there because no one is allowed in this room except by express invitation from ME.  Seriously, I am going to put a sign on the door like a teenage girl.

My Grandmother Eunice's platform rocker. I loved this chair when I was little because it was low enough to let even the shortest legs reach the ground and rock.

My Grandmother Eunice’s platform rocker. I loved this chair when I was little because it was low enough to let even the shortest legs reach the ground and rock.  Not that any short legs will be rocking in it anytime soon…

A short list of things that will be allowed in my room:

  • daydreaming
  • napping
  • lolling about
  • lollygagging
  • ruminating
  • vegetating
  • cogitating
  • staring
  • lounging
  • sprawling
  • contemplating
  • musing
  • pondering
  • mouth breathing

This morning, I snuck down there for five minutes to sit in Grandmama’s chair and look outside in peace.  Out one window, I could see three fat birds waiting in the sourwood tree for their turn at the feeder and the moon hanging white against the morning sky.  It was quiet enough in my room to hear the moon.

Once I get a couple more bookcases in there, I will officially have more bookshelves than books for the first time in my adult life.  I hesitated to put a TV in there–it’s a sanctuary, after all–then I thought about being able to watch a movie with cussing and/or kissing whenever I wanted to.  I’ve got a table that will be my writing desk and a futon for flopping.  An old traveling trunk that Richard found in a dumpster for my coffee table.  His grandmother’s floor lamp from the 1930’s to read by.  A painting of a mother and child that G gave me a few years ago.

That shelf?  That shelf is high enough that I can put precious things OUT OF REACH.  There’s the print of a sleeping puppy’s belly that I bought in an antique shop in Bath, England.  Tiny dachshunds I picked up in a model train store in Aachen, Germany or some at the Lakewood Flea Market.  Copies of Vermeer paintings I brought back from Amsterdam.  And a sampler I found in my Aunt Mary Fuller’s things after she died.  She was Grandmama Eunice’s younger sister and a real sweet lady.  It reads, “Give to the world the best you have and the best will come back to you.”

Grandmama Eunice's baby sister, my Aunt Mary Fuller. left this sampler. She was a sweet lady.

Grandmama Eunice’s baby sister, my Aunt Mary Fuller. left this sampler. She was a sweet lady.

Amen to that.  Now get out of my room.

Name Your Passion

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My friend Saralyn asked a great question on Facebook the other night:

 “What is something you used to be passionate about, but have let go over time?”  

The answers from her friends ranged from classical ballet to learning German to making lamps from junk.  The list of responses grew and grew as the night stretched on.  Scrapbooking, skateboarding, wildlife rehab, writing, houseplants, drawing, painting, birding, baking, shooting pool, thrift shopping, tennis, cello, gardening, poetry, drumming…

passion

I had to ask myself–what have I left by the wayside that used to be a passion?  My quick response was quilting.  I used to love to make quilts for babies…until I got busy having my own.  One year for Valentines Day, I made Richard a pair of red quilted pillows with our initial stitched inside a heart.  The last quilt I worked on was for Vivi.  It never got bound.  It’s still downstairs in my sewing stash.  

I miss spending time at flea markets and antique auctions.  I miss running on the weekends.  I miss trying new recipes every week.  I miss traveling.  I miss going to movies.  I miss rearranging my furniture.  I miss listening to music.  

But there’s writing.  There’s the writing.  

Tuesday night at boot camp, as I was huffing through a run, my coach Cynthea asked “How did you decide to start your blog?”  My first response was, “I’ve always been a writer.”  That felt so cool.  Owning it.  Not hedging it with, “Well, I like to write…”  Straight up claiming it–I’m a writer.  

This blog is almost a year old and I am a different person now than I was last January.  I still haven’t finished the quilt and my recipes are boring and the running is HARD…but I’ve made time for this passion.  I cannot tell you what a joy this space has become for me.  Thank you for stopping by, for sharing your thoughts, for reading.  After 279 posts, I can’t imagine going a week without writing!  

So Saralyn’s question is still out there–What is something you used to be passionate about, but have let go over time?  Is there a way to make some space for it in your life?  

Now I’m Leaving Normal, Headed Who Knows Where

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If I’ve been kind of quiet for a few days, it’s because I’ve been sitting around feeling sorry for myself.  I’ve been sick with that Creeping Crud for 3 weeks.  Even with the Mucinex, VapoRub, Sudafed, neti pot, chamomile tea, Breathe Right strips, humidifier–I still can’t breathe, can’t talk, can’t sleep.  And my physical weakness coincided with the demands of kids being out of school, the holiday bustle, and G being sick as well.  I feel like I’ve been staring at the wall for a month.  Somebody call me a wahhhhmbulance.

Even when I could drag myself in to work, it was different too.  Four dear friends are gone from the group of eight who had Christmas lunch last year–two out of jobs, one consumed by a huge project, and one off to Chile for five months.   So much work to do, and not as many co-conspirators.  Harumph.

Chaos rules the house.  The decorations need to go back up in the attic but I hate to say goodbye when it feels like I just got them all up.  There are the broken ornaments that need to be glued back together–the gumdrop ball that Carlos tried to eat, the seal from Bar Harbor that lost a flipper, the pink baby shoe that shattered.  And the presents still need to be put away!  The cookies seem to be the only things getting put away in a timely fashion.  Blargh.

My children change so quickly that I wonder who I’ll meet every morning when it’s time to wake them up.  Sometimes it’s good change–like when Carlos was pushing his Jeep up the driveway the other day and turned around to wave, blow me a kiss like usual, then he added, “I love you!” for the first time.  Sweetness.  Sometimes the change is more ominous–like last night when I told Vivi to pick up the scraps of paper from her snowflake craft project and she gave me a massive eye roll.  Perhaps it’s her first, but I know it won’t be her last.  When I called her on it, she explained with her best first-grade logic that she was just exercising her eyes in a completely neutral way and I happened to interrupt her right in the middle of it.  Uh huh.

And writing.  It’s supposed to be my happy place but I’m overthinking it.  Freezing up, like the weather outside.  I wrote a spot-on piece about living in the moment for New Year’s Eve (There Is This) and ever since then I’ve been afraid to write anything else because I keep looking over my shoulder to admire that piece about…not looking over my shoulder.  Duh.

So to recap:  Waaaaah.  Harumph.  Blargh.  Uh Huh.  Duh.  Where is my NORMAL???

I guess the lesson we all learn if we get to grow up is that we can sit around crying for normal or we can live the day we’re handed, no matter how lumpy or strange or viscous it might be.  I made a decision yesterday to shake myself out of the rut and within an hour, this verse from a Cowboy Junkies song popped into my head:

 “Leaving Normal”

It’s been a long time since I’ve seen the high plains of Expectation
And I’m way past the lowlands and the deserts of Failure and Doubt
And the last time I passed through Satisfaction
I felt like a stranger there
Now I’m leaving Normal and I’m heading for who knows where…
 
 

Yeah, I don’t hang out on the high plains of Expectation any more–I am generally happy in this place and don’t need Fabulous.  And I have made it out of the deserts of Failure and Doubt…most days.  But Satisfaction?  I should buy a little vacation house there, meet some of the locals.  And the only building in Normal is a bus station to get you out of there.

In the song, the woman continues on a Greyhound bus, headed who knows where and she’s POSITIVE about it.  Leaving Normal is moving on. Onward and upward.  I’m trying to follow that advice, so here are the things I’ve done to kick my own ass today:

1.  I signed myself up for this weekly lesson on writing by Alice Bradley, delivered right to my Inbox so I can get better at the craft of writing.  I am going to be less afraid of writing, especially when I do it well.

writing class

2.  I signed myself up for WoW Boot Camp, the fitness program that I loved for two years and I’ve missed for three years.  I am going to feel strong again.

boot camp

3.  I talked to my friend Betsy the nurse practitioner about this Crud and she suggested a steroid for the bronchial inflammation.  So by Monday, I should look like this:

woman on steroids

I took a few actions.  Pity Party CANCELLED.  Honestly, I have better things to do.

And what do you know?  Those friends that I’ve been missing so much?  We got together for our regularly scheduled Friday lunch and who should come walking in but our world traveler!  Erica is home and the sky is looking bluer already.  Hooray!  Salsa verde and hugs all around.  

erica

Here’s Margo Timmins singing “Leaving Normal” if you’d like to hear her belt it out.  I would pay money to listen to her read the phone book.  One day I’ll tell you about the time I rode a train across Canada with the Cowboy Junkies and Margo and I talked about her dog eating rocks.  Dang, I think with that one sentence, I’m starting to sound like myself again!

Finishing Strong

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WinnerI’m writing over at Work It, Mom! today.  My featured post is about ending the calendar year on a strong note at the office.  Here’s an excerpt:

The school year creates its own rhythm for our children–each month lines up from August to May in a clear pattern.  Their effort begins in the fall, builds throughout the winter, then concludes at the end of the spring.  They get summer off to rest, rejuvenate and prepare for the next round.

But when do working moms get our chance to mark a clear finish to one year and the start of the next?  I suggest now, in December!  The end of the calendar year is a powerful time for us to finish strong and start fresh in our work life.  While we’re setting resolutions for the new year, why not do the same for our work year?  Finish this year STRONG and start the next with clarity and energy!

And now you’re rolling your eyes at me (I can hear it!).  December is the crazy month of school programs, teacher gifts, holiday parties at work, family celebrations, sending cards, late night baking, online shopping, decorating the house, kids out of school, travel, entertaining, and that blasted Elf On the Shelf–how are we supposed to get all that done AND focus on work?  Read the rest of the article…

So if you’re looking for ways to finish strong with 2013, head on over to read my story.  It has some good stuff in it about assessing this year so you can plan for the next!  

 

Raising Grateful Children

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Image converted using ifftoanyI’m got a Thanksgiving article on Work It, Mom! called “The Attitude of Gratitude” about teaching our children to practice gratitude.  Check it out!

On the day my daughter was born, I wrote seventeen things in my gratitude journal (#1 was “she is here and healthy.”  #2 was “That epidural was NICE.”)  On the day my husband died from leukemia, I wrote twenty-nine things in my gratitude journal.  That certainly doesn’t mean it was a better day; it just goes to show that there are gifts around us even in the darkest times.  The daily practice of gratitude keeps me in that state where I can receive them.