A Letter To My Children

Cup cakes are in the oven and Conner and CC are playing. Conner took the blanket from his sister; my feisty, headstrong, fiery daughter is shouting, “I don’t want it! I don’t want it!” Oh CC, you will cry that all throughout your life. There is much we don’t want. Much that hurts, much that we wish could be gone, much that causes us to want to stop and weep and not take that step forward…that step into the dark…off the precipice…into the unknown.

I promise you my sweet son and daughter, that you will never be left comfortless, that you are never alone in this life. Your Savior, your Lord, your King will take you by the hand and guide you through every.single.day. You must ask, you must seek, you must be strong, for the winds will howl and pain and sorrow come to all. In this life however, you will also experience profound joy and there is only ONE source…only HE.

Speak

If will alone was a super power, I'd be a comic book hero.

I visualized myself winning a writing competition; the first one I've ever entered. I was notified that I was a finalist and didn't exhale it seemed for a good five minutes. I could feel my character breathing out her history. I thought my story had legs and could run marathons. It must have sauntered casually to that finish line however, and others crossed it first, and second, and third...

My left hand is the conduit through with communication must steadily flow and somehow the space between my brain and said hand loses something in the translation, because I can very rarely SPEAK effectively. I'm married to a National debate champion and the mother to two offspring who talk circles around me, straight from the womb.

And yet, with paper and pen I'm alive and I can pretend...I can pretend I won. That I won the contest and that I walked up on a stage. That there was a microphone so imposing that it made me cross my bleary eyes which blocked the courteous clip clapping of the crowd that came to hear me read my words, my soul. That my children could see their mother achieve something, anything so that they too may know that they can hurdle their Everest.

I picture myself reading, nervous, tremulous diction and damp underarms, but lit up like Christmas morning. My best clothes, straightened hair, unshed tears, a hidden heart resurrected; crazy glued together and soaring into another time...another place...another life.

I WILL do what I dream to do because there is no choice. I was born to speak, though one has to read in order to hear what I'm really needing, yearning, crying to tell them. Someday I will succeed...and until then my left hand will not stop dog paddling through this ocean of words I need to flood my empty pages with.

Because I have a story to tell.

Let Her Eat Cake

A daily conversation:


7:30 AM "What's for dinner?"


"It's breakfast time now CC."


8 AM "I want cake!"


"No CC, we can't have cake right now. How about cereal?"


"NO! I want ketchup and a 'poon."


9 AM (after a full breakfast of banana, strawberries, blueberries and Kix)

"What's for dinner?"


"We just ate CC!"


10AM "I want a nack!" (usually crackers)


11AM more crackers...


noon "What's for dinner?" (include a pb&j, apple pieces, string cheese and anything else she can think of)

RIGHT AFTER THIS..."I want a nack!"

"AHHH no it's naptime now"

3,4,5pm more of the same (in which she snacks on raisins, yogurt, fruit snacks, raviolis, anything I can think of and yes, even candy if I'm desperate...which I usually am)

5pm dinner time

6&7PM "I want dinner!!" followed by a glass of milk and a final snack and bedtime...



So I ask you? Is it boredom, is it an emotional attachment to food at age 2? Is it a toddler's cries for her mother's attention through food, is it a tapeworm, or does she simply like to see the nervous twitch I've developed whenever I hear the words "dinner" or "nack" in which I close my eyes while holding my head and weeping followed by a gnashing of teeth??????



But, I digress from the real reason for this post:


Friday was my baby's birthday. The girl with the flash and sparkle, the Himalayan personality. Who gets the joke, who will say "now that's funny!" after SHE says something. Who loves adventure, who sings herself to sleep and awake, and sings herself into the spotlight. Who has a lioness temper with a dollop of grizzly bear, and who will cry at the very sight of human suffering of any kind. Whose eyes illuminate the canvas of her soul...and she's a masterpiece.


I adore you, Cecilia.

Peter Pan Am I

I never wanted to grow up.

I was not the child who yearned to be a teenager or the teenager who dreamed of adulthood. I was the child who thought I would always be a child. The teenager who didn’t know WHAT had happened to me and missed childhood. The adult who didn’t understand how 21 turned into 22 so quickly. I will be the 80 year old who calls my friends and says “Hey girls.”

Now just for the record, I LOVE being a wife and mother. I just still find it hard to believe that I am THE wife and mother. I still look in the mirror and can’t fathom who this grown up is staring back at me.

I relate extremely well to children and yes, even teenagers too (though sometimes I am terrified :) I guess it makes sense if I still think I’m one of them. No, it’s not like I’m trying to relive the “glory days” of high school. Far from it. I moved around so much growing up, I wonder if I just scattered the ashes of my childhood onto too many places. Every new move forced me to grow up just a little faster. New girl better fit in quickly if she wants to survive. Be one of us, be who we want you to be or you’ll be all alone. Part of me had to perish with every step into every new school. I didn’t have the sense of self to save my drowning soul.

The funny thing is, all the reinventing helped me to get along with almost anyone wherever I am. It has served me well and I’m grateful for how my experiences stretched me. I tell you this, because Monday is my birthday…And I feel 21.

I’m okay with that.

A Little of This, A Little of That

My brother,who takes any picture that looks fantastic on this blog, and his wife are moving to Missouri for school. We will sure miss them, but are excited for them too. :) It reminds me of living in Virginia 15 min. outside of D.C. right after Tony and I were married. We LOVED it! Even though I had to work two jobs to keep us afloat, and the people whose basement we rented were going through a bitter and LOUD divorce at the time. Oh, and the guys who parked their van behind mine in two different parking lots and tried to sell me some cool stereo equipment. I loved all the trees, and the rolling hills, and the people, and the history. I loved visiting D.C. when ever we could and soaking it all in. I was truly out of my comfort zone, and it was an adventure. I will never forget it. So Dave and Beth, even though my pictures on this blog will suffer greatly, I have a feeling that this will be an experience you guys will never forget :)

My daughter has had a cold since 2009 started. RSV, two double ear infections, and now just an EVERLASTING runny nose. What can I do? I give her 2 multivitamins a day, vitamin C, acidopholus...any ideas? We've taken her to the Dr. multiple times and she's been on antibiotics for the infections and Dimetapp for the cold, but I don't want her on that forever. Could it be her two year molars coming in? Poor girl, I feel so bad for her... It couldn't be because she does this...or this...right? :)

My dad turns 65 on Monday. He got called to jury duty and has to report...on Monday. Happy Birthday DAD :)

I'm an all or nothing type of gal. I will either eat my weight in cheese or shun it altogether. The amount of time I was spending on the computer was bothering me. I would get 'sucked in' every time I walked into the kitchen (where our computer is) so to combat the problem, I would just turn it off. When I would turn it back on however, I would have emails piled up and blogs to read and I would still end up online for too long. Then there's the Good Reads factor. I could spend half my life on that site. So, after a lot of thought and some significant soul searching, I have come to a conclusion: M-F I will set the timer. 60 min. online a day. Weekends off. Yesterday, was my first official 'hour.' Never has an hour flew by so fast!! I end up having to write out a list I need to do for today. Luckily, I write out my posts longhand, so that cuts out on time, but I couldn't believe how fast it went. I may not get to your blogs everyday, but I will do my best to reach everyone's blogs every week.

PS- I'm shouting out my cute bloggy buddy Devri. I totally missed her contest, but she is so talented and makes the most adorable tutus and headbands. She's sick right now, so feel better soon Devri!!

In The Leafy Treetops...

As we teeter here on the very edge of a long awaited season, I am reminded of an annual phenomenon. Every beautiful spring morning, I am gently awakened by a sound that's so natural and pure that I truly feel as if I am one with nature. That sound my friends, is the birds outside my bedroom window.
I suppose at some point, it must begin with one sustained note, but by the time I drift into consciousness there's a tweetanacle choir. You see, I do love birds. Yes, I am a bird enthusiast. These birds however, have an agenda. There's a birdie brawl in my tree, a "rumble" if you will.
There are no winners in this sad tale. The two opposing gangs of ferocious fowl shout out threatenings that would shock and dismay you. Now bear in mind, these are authentic calls:

"Aackaackaackaackaackaackaackaack"

"Oh yah! AACKAACKAACKAACKAACKAACKAACKAACKAACK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

"TWEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!"






So as we approach my favorite season of the year, my darling son brings home his bird feeder he

made from cub scouts and desires to place in the tree of tiny tweeting terrorists.





Did you hear that my flighty feathered fugitives? Free breakfast served at 6AM!



And don't tweet with your mouth full...








PS-haven't posted forever, but shouting out my super talented friend Kerri. Check out her beautiful delicious looking handmade soaps @ www.messesandmudpies.com

Why I Write

This post is inspired by something my wonderful and quite perceptive new friend Christie shared with me and I recognized the truth of it right away. Thanks Christie!

"I wrote stories from the time I was a little girl...but I didn't want to be a writer I wanted to be an actress. I didn't realize then that it's the same impulse. It's make-believe. It's performance."
Joan Didion quoted by Betsy Lerner in The Forest for the Trees

My earliest memories occurred on stage. I danced atop the ledge of our fireplace, the xylophone mallet as my microphone. I always had the lead in the elementary school productions and had my own performance troupe on hand to promote our plays to unsuspecting, and only occasionally, willing neighbors. In the sixth grade, I began a series of acting classes. Living in Southern California, there was an ever present undercurrent of budding talent and I happily obliged.

Then, horror of horrors, puberty struck. My acting partner inquired as to what the red things all over my face were and my modeling instructor informed me that I had the right height, but I was too painstakingly thin. I began to laugh through my auditions and my confidence was kidnapped by a cruel self doubt…and I stopped. No high school musicals, no college dramas, but I did participate in Road Shows. Remember those? I miss them. Perhaps there was some safety in a church sponsored production for me.

And all the while, I wrote. More precisely, I released. The shine I had dreamed of making on stage was unleashed in the twinkle of my soul I left on the page. I found there was beauty there. It is the reason I write. I am a performer at heart, albeit an imperfect one. That is my life and my truth. I write as a means to perform and I perform to have something to write about after all.