An Unencumbered Life

Hiatus

2012-02-08T16:18:00.001-06:00

I haven't posted to my blog since September. That's a record. It's not one that I'm proud of, but I guess I took an unintentional hiatus. The quick low-down is that I got sick at the end of September - pneumonia. Totally took me off guard. Then it just spiraled out of control and Griffin and I both were non-stop sick from October through the end of November. I even got my first case of pinkeye! Awesome.

I made it through NaNoWriMo (and even finished) and then life put on the brakes. Or maybe life went zooming past me faster than I ever expected. I really don't know which analogy best fits, because in all honesty, it feels like both are happening at once. Step on the gas. Slam on the brakes. Over and over. No wonder why my head throbs so much.

I've wanted to write about what has happened, but I can't...for a number of reasons. First (and this truly is the first time in the history of my blog), I don't need people knowing everything that is going on in my life. I just can't go there. Second, writing about it makes it real. Okay, I know the reality of what is going on, but I can (and do) find ways to focus on other things. Sitting down and writing means tapping into the emotional side - a side that is simply toO raw right now.

So, I have a choice on my hands. I could take an intentional hiatus (disappointing all three of my readers!), or continue to blog and write about everything but what's really on my mind. I haven't decided yet. I loved the freedom from not writing my blog, but at the same time, I missed it. Writing is what I do. It's my outlet.

I'm going to sit and think about it for a bit. I need to see what feels right. But I will be back. Sooner or later, I'll be back to writing...

I need a new game plan, 'cuz what I'm doing ain't workin'

2011-09-20T13:26:00.000-05:00

{photo credit}

Not long after Griffin turned one, our day care provider mentioned that she had never seen a child hit the Terrible Twos so early in life. I laughed about it. Sure, he was an independent kid very early on, but really? The Terrible Twos? Then reality hit. Griffin was perpetually in two states: 1) Mr. Noodle (every limb would go limp and it was virtually impossible to move him) or 2) The Two-by-Four (he would flex his entire body so getting him into a car seat was like a professional wrestling match). Okay, so maybe I am exaggerating a bit. Oh, he did these things, but he was also a sweet, cuddly, loving little boy.

I started taking the approach that we weren't dealing with the Terrible Twos, but the Trying Twos. Perhaps if I changed up the language a bit, it might change my outlook and response to his behavior. It worked. I was able to recognize (most of the time) what triggered these tantrums. We learned that when he was getting tired, he would have a meltdown. Instead of flipping out and yelling at him, I would empathize with him and say something along the lines of, "I know how difficult it can be when you're really tired and can't fall asleep. I get cranky, too." I told myself that it wasn't his fault that he was cranky/tired/hungry and wasn't fully able to express himself verbally. Sometimes the only way he can tell us he's feeling this way is by acting out.

Then people started warning me that the Twos might be bad, but watch out for those Threes. Seriously? I thought we'd made our way through the worst of it. Could it really be worse?

In short, yes. At least for us.

I don't know what to do anymore. Most of the time Griffin is a happy and silly boy who loves to give hugs and shows concern if someone gets hurt or is sad. However, when it gets to bedtime, look out. It's like the devil comes out. He puts up a bit of a struggle for his father, but will eventually go to sleep. For me, it's a battle royale every single night. He throws things. He swats. He kicks. I'm almost embarrassed to admit this because it sounds like I'm raising a complete brat. I have tried just about everything imaginable. Be firm. Don't let him push the boundaries. Stick to your guns. I've tried taking away privileges. I've tried talking in a soothing voice. I've tried getting down to his level and explaining things to him.

So what am I doing wrong? Am I doing anything right? I feel like a parental failure most nights. I go to bed exhausted and tense. I wake up with headaches.

This too shall pass, right? But what do I do in the meantime? How do we deal with this so we don't raise a bratty, bossy, and abusive child?

I can do better than that

2011-09-06T12:18:00.000-05:00

The other day I finished reading a book on my Kindle and thought to myself, I can do better than that! It didn't stem from overconfidence, because that is the last word anyone would use to describe me. No, it came from that tiny part of my soul, the one hidden very deep inside. It's the bitter and envious part that I try to keep hidden, but on occasions such as this, pop up uninvited.

I don't like to admit to those thoughts and feelings. Inadequate. Envious. Frustrated. They make me feel ugly. The truth is that book that I read? It wasn't horrible. It just wasn't what I typically read. The framework was all there, but I was looking for a little more depth or some unexpected twists and turns.

So I finished the book feeling less than satisfied and a whole lotta' cranky because that book had been published. Maybe it was just my mood at that time, but I let the cranky seep in and take over. I can write better than that, I kept thinking and eventually saying out loud.

Finally, after soaking in the cranky for an hour or so, a little voice popped in my head and said So do it. I thought about those words for a minute and decided that instead of complaining about a so-so book that got published, I could sit down and prove my point. Instead of wasting time and energy and emotions, I could transfer all of that into my writing. If I can think I can writer better than that, then do it.

Feeling inadequate sucks. So does envy. It's not about comparing myself to another writer...especially one who has an agent and is published. It's about focusing on my writing. It's about learning about the craft and honing my skills. I can take those feelings and instead of dwelling on them, I can use them to push myself toward my goal.

Easier said than done, but it's a start...

It's that time again

2011-08-30T10:29:00.000-05:00

Another NaNoWriMo is looming ahead. The thought of sitting down and writing another novel under such a tight deadline makes me giddy. Weird, I know, but it's exciting and fun to see everyone race to the finish line.

You're probably thinking, "But Tracy, you already wrote two NaNo novels and did nothing with them." That's true. Well, it's somewhat true. Novel #1 is currently sitting on my desk in a file folder. I never went back and revised it mainly because by the time I actually finished it, we were approaching the 2010 NaNo. As for Novel #2, I'm editing right now. I decided that going through the editing process would be a great lesson for me. So far, that has been the case. It's filled with plot holes, characters that basically fall off the face of the earth, and an overall sense of "why should I care about these people?" Definitely not good. However, as I make my way through edits, I can see where I went wrong and how to make it better. So far I've completely cut a character from the manuscript and as crazy as this sounds, I'm changing a major part of the plot.

I wanted to be done by the end of September so I could have October to brainstorm for 2011 NaNo, but I'm not sure that's going to happen. As for Novel #3, I've got a hint of an idea. Actually, it's more like a single character. She's been floating around in my head for a while now and I know she's got quite a story to tell. I just need some quiet time to flesh it out.

I saw a NaNoWriMo countdown and it looks like we're a little over 60 days away from starting. I really do encourage everyone to try it...even if you don't aspire to be a published author. You can say you wrote a novel, even if you never show it to anyone and it sits on your desk collecting dust.

Three

2011-07-22T06:23:00.000-05:00

Dear Griffin,

Today you are three years old. By the time you're old enough to read these birthday letters I've written, you will know how much I hate cliches (and you also will know exactly what cliche means). But I have to use one now: I don't know where the time went. Wasn't it just yesterday that we brought you home from the hospital? Or when you curled into a little ball on Daddy's chest and napped? What happened to all that time? Some days I want it back. I want those early mornings and long days when it was just the two of us while I was still on maternity leave. I want the long walks that calmed your colic. I want to hear your squeaky little noises warning me you were about to wake up.

Yes, all those things were wonderful and sweet (even when they really weren't), but now we have a happy, willful, and independent little boy. Each day you say something that makes me laugh. Each day I discover something new about you, like the fact that you would pass up every meal just so you could have something sweet (just like Daddy). Or that no one is allowed to help you - or even ask if you need help - unless you tell us (just like your Mommy). You are curious about the world you live in and are not shy about asking questions. Where did da sun go, Mommy? Why's thunder so loud? How do I get up on a cloud?

Your curiosity and wonderment over the littlest things makes me see life through your eyes and appreciate the world so much more. I forgot how beautiful the moon was until you pointed it out to me. I forgot how how good the rain feels until you suggested we run around in it. And I forgot how relaxing it is to sit on the front porch eating a popsicle until we did that together. As silly as it seems, I feel like I should thank you for that. For making me stop the chaos. For making me take the time to see all the beauty in the world that you see. For making me enjoy all the little things - the sound of the ice cream truck, a cloudless sky, a single Hershey Kiss.

In your first birthday letter I told you that I wanted so much for you in life. I still do. I want you to continue to be curious about the world. Never stop asking questions. Never stop learning. As much as you are loved, I want you to give that love back to others - not just family and friends, but those in need. I want you to be sure to not let fear rule your life. Most importantly, I want you to know that you will always matter (your thoughts, your opinions, your feelings). We will always listen. We will always care. We will always love.

Hold your own

Know your name

Go your own way

And everything will be fine.

~Jason Mraz~

You are loved.
You are sweetness.

Love,
Mommy

Growth

2011-07-12T11:23:00.000-05:00

{photo credit}

When I was a little girl, I loved visiting my grandparents' house because they had an amazing vegetable garden. The funny thing is that back then, I wasn't all that interested in eating those vegetables, but was amazed at how someone could start with a tiny seed, add some water, sunlight, and TLC, and grow bright, red tomatoes and crunchy cucumbers. During my visits, I watched my grandfather pluck the cucumbers from the garden and lay them out on the counter, while my grandma worked her magic in the kitchen.

Ever since we moved into our current house a little over six years ago, I've wanted to plant a vegetable garden. We even had the perfect spot in the corner of our backyard, just begging to be transformed. I put it off while Griffin was a baby - just too much work. But this past spring I made the commitment. I pulled weeds and turned over the soil. I spent my Mother's Day buying seedlings - tomatoes, cucumbers, green peppers, basil, and strawberries. Together, Griffin and I planted our garden. We stepped back and I crossed my fingers. I can grow anything in a pot on my deck, but could I keep alive a real backyard vegetable garden? I could only hope.

The quick answer is yes. Our garden is thriving and growing each day. We just picked our first cherry tomato and everyday Griffin asks when we can pick all the other vegetables. Soon, baby. Soon.

While our garden was simply intended as a way to grow our own vegetables - cut back on expenses, eat fresh, try new recipes - it has provided us with so much more. Griffin has been learning about science and the lifecycle of plants. He is interested in eating the vegetables and fruits we are growing. But most importantly, he takes pride in his work - standing alone in the garden with me as I picked weeds, he opened his arms wide and said, "My garden makes me happy."

And as for me? Well, I've spent a lot of time during the past year in a major funk. OK, so it has been more than a major funk, but you get the idea. Lots of sadness. Lots of worry. Our garden has given me a place to work off those emotions (it's darn hard work in that garden!). I've committed to something and followed through with it. I started with nothing but a six-by-six square foot section of grass and overgrown weeds and brought it to life.

It has given me a purpose outside of my regular life as a wife, mother, and employee. That might sound silly to some of you, but when you feel the way I've felt for the past year, it means the world. Each day that I watch it grow, I feel myself grow - farther away from the tears and the worry. I am learning to leave them behind.

My garden makes me happy...

All he has left

2011-07-09T21:38:00.000-05:00

My grandpa has the gentlest soul I've ever known. I've never heard him raise his voice. Never seen him angry. He believes in forgiveness and second chances. He knows that no matter how hard of a life he had growing up, someone else's life was even harder.

He is a veteran of World War II. He battled cancer. He fought back after a series of strokes. If there is one thing people who meet my grandfather say about him it's this: He's got a fighting spirit. He's a tough cookie. If anyone can get through this, it's him.

My grandpa turned 95-years old in March. It was one year after the strokes. He is now in a wheelchair at all times. But that same energy and personality shone through when he piped up and said to the family, "So who's ready for 96?" We all raised our hands and he smiled and said, "I'll be here."

This past week has been tough for my grandpa - he had an infection which turned out to be MRSA. He's been seeing a lot of doctors and taking all kinds of medications. When my dad visited him the other day at his assisted living center, my grandpa said, "They've finally broken my spirit."

I cried when I heard that he said those words. I cried because I don't ever want to hear anyone say that - especially my grandpa. And I cried because I'm afraid that's all he has left. I understand that he's 95 years old. I know that he has had a good, long life. But he's still my grandpa. Everyone who knows him, and even those who only know him through the stories I tell, knows that his spirit is what has carried him through these years - growing up as a first generation American, serving the nation in war, losing the love of his life after 54 years of marriage, fighting cancer, etc.

It's difficult to see someone's body deteriorating, but it's almost worse to see someone's spirit dissolve because it is our spirit that sustains us.

Love you, Grampa.

My struggle to become a person

2011-05-12T10:04:00.000-05:00

(Photo Credit)

It has been one month since I last posted something here. That's sad. It's not for lack of having something to say because, well, I always have something to say. I could give the standard excuses - I've been buried under a pile of grants for the last six weeks, Griffin has been sick twice since we saw the pulmonologist, and I've been working on projects around the house (and outside if you include our garden).

The real problem is that everything I write is about ME. I mean, that's the whole point of a blog, right? It's my opinion. My perspective. My ideas. That gets boring after a while...even for me and it's my own life we're talking about. How many times can I write "Griffin was back at the doctor today," or "I planned on writing, but that grant sucked the life right out of me."? I feel like that's all I've got right now.

A couple of months ago I wrote about the pressure wanna-be writers have with trying to work on their own writing while establishing a presence online. I decided that I wanted to focus on my writing - learning more about the craft and completing and revising another novel - because that's what was going to make me a better writer. I'm not at the point where this can be a writing blog. And I don't really want it to be one. Ever.

I started this blog on the eve of my 33rd birthday as a way to write as often as possible...about anything I wanted to write about. I liked that. I enjoyed writing about our vacations and books that I read. I loved sharing a family recipe and my always-evolving photography skills. I want and a need a place to talk about my family, my struggles, and my ambitions. But there's that pressure to focus on writing. There's the pressure to know lots of other bloggers who share the same dream. The pressure to be part of "that group." If I comment on a blog, I'm worried that someone will check my blog and see that I last posted about Griffin's visit to Iowa City. That's not what a fellow writer wants to read about. But it's still my life.

Because I've felt so caught in the middle, I've avoided my blog completely. Not the best solution, and definitely not intentional, but that's what happened.

Here's what I wrote in my very first post back on January 18, 2006:

"Quite a number of years ago - almost 20 to be exact - my father gave me a book as a gift. It's by Hugh Prather, and it's called Notes to Myself: My struggle to become a person. If I could steal that title without getting in trouble, I would. That seems to be the theme of my journals. Despite being 24-hours shy of turning 33, and having finished graduate school and found a 'real' job, I still feel like I struggle to become a person. I don't think that's a bad thing."

So maybe that's it - I don't have to change my blog to be something I'm not. Maybe I just continue to write about my journey. My journey as a person, who just happens to be a wife, mother, grant writer, and fiction writer.

Every moment that I am centered in the future, I suffer a temporary loss of this life.

~Hugh Prather

Melancholy

2011-04-13T15:45:00.000-05:00

Me and melancholy...we're old friends. In fact, we're so close that he decided to stop by for a visit this week. It had been a while, so I let him in.

Here's the strange thing. Usually this feeling hits me at the end of summer. I'm not sure what it is about that time of year, but it always happens. Maybe it's the end of long days and the end of the freedom to walk outside in bare feet. As soon as I see that first red leaf fall from our tree, I know it's over and the mourning sets in. I mentally start preparing myself for the short days, the bundling up we need to do to go outside, and the claustrophobia that sometimes sets in from being stuck inside. Yep, at that first sign of summer coming to an end I try to soak it all up. I want to spend every moment outside. Playing. Eating. Watching all the activity in my neighborhood. I start to miss it all before it's even gone.

So why am I feeling this way when summer hasn't even started? The tulips haven't even opened and most of the trees are still bare, yet I feel this way. Maybe it's because I know how quickly time passes. I hate to use a cliche (but I'm just so good at it!), but it does pass in the blink of an eye.

There's such an ease to our summer "schedule," and I use that word hesitantly as there really isn't a schedule as much as there's some routine. School lets out and Duncan is free to stay up late and watch movies with Patrick. Yes, I still have to get up early for work and get Griffin off to day care, but when I leave I can put everything behind me. I go home and play outside with Griffin. We mess around in the garden. We go for walks.

Every year I vow to not only make the most of the summer, but to be mindful of it, to hold onto it and soak it up. Unfortunately, I always seem to come to this conclusion at the end of summer, when there's not much left to hold onto.

Not this year. This year is going to be different.

This morning, when Griffin woke up, I went into his room. He smiled at me, and then he looked at his windows and said, "Mommy, the sun is up!" It was if he was seeing it for the first time. If only I could bottle that innocence and enthusiasm. I can't quite do that, but I can see life through his eyes a little more often, and that's what I hope to do this time around.

I know Mr. Melancholy will still make his annual visit at the end of summer. That's never going to change, but I don't think I'll regret letting time slip by too fast.

Bacterial what?

2011-04-12T10:38:00.001-05:00

I haven't been avoiding writing about Griffin's appointment in Iowa City. It's just that on the morning of the appointment, he tried his hand at irony and woke up with a cold and a cough. What can I say, he's quite advanced for his age...

So yeah, he had a horrible cold...and then the coughing started...and then a horribly infected ear. Any free time I had (which is usually zero), was spent administering ear drops, antibiotics, and breathing treatments. This makes 16 ear infections and 17 bronchial infections. But who's counting? I don't know whether to laugh or cry.

The appointment went well considering how long we waited - and I'm not complaining. I was thrilled we were able to get an appointment so quickly. It's just that an hour in the waiting area plus an hour in the exam room plus an almost 90 minute appointment meant that Griffin was at the end of his rope by the time we were leaving.

The doctor was wonderful (and incredibly patient). He asked us questions about the patterns of Griffin's infections. How do we know he's getting sick? What does it sound like when he coughs? When do we know he needs to see a doctor? I told the doctor that sometimes Griffin "whistled" when I picked him up or when he stood really close to me. Then there are the "rattles" in his chest and vibrations that I feel in his back when he sits on my lap. I told the doctor that Griffin has had one official cold in his life - when he was three months old. Every other sniffle/cough/sneeze has ended up in his lungs. Fast. He can go from an occasional cough to a deep, violent, turn-his-face-red cough in just a few hours.

We were told we've got two different issues to deal with: 1) asthma and 2) bacterial endobronchitis. The asthma diagnosis came as no surprise as he's been treated for asthma symptoms since he was four months old. It's just official now. As for the second diagnosis, I had never heard of this before and I'm sure the doctor could see my face twist in confusion and concern. Honestly? I still don't know a whole bunch about it, but I can explain it like this: Griffin always has bacteria in his system and it settles in his airways waiting for any little sign of infection. When he does get a cold, that bacteria kicks into overdrive and he goes from sorta-sick to we-need-to-take-him-to-the-ER sick.

The doctor started him on preventative antibiotics three times a week for the next three to four months, which is when we are scheduled to go back to the hospital.

There were so many questions I wanted to ask. Will he ever outgrow this? What are the long-term implications of this? Is there any chance he's damaged his lungs from all these infections? Is it too late to do anything about that? Of course I thought about all of this on our way home. I'm still absorbing everything and trying to learn more about this {FYI - don't Google "bacterial endobronchitis" - it'll only freak you out like it did me}. I plan to call the doctor later this week and ask all of my questions.

So despite an official diagnosis, the world is feeling a little more topsy-turvy than I expected. I don't like topsy-turvy. I like calmness. I also like a healthy, smiling Griffin. I hope this new treatment works and we get him back. We've sure missed him.

The big time

2011-03-29T12:01:00.003-05:00

I started writing again. Before anyone gets excited about that, let me clarify. Last night, I sat down with my laptop and wrote about 100 words. But it felt good. I miss having that creative outlet in my life, because right now, I need an outlet.

Next Thursday we're taking Griffin to the University of Iowa Children's Hospital for an appointment with a pediatric pulmonologist. In all honesty, we should have done this months ago. Maybe even years ago? And yes, I know he is only two-and-a-half, but this kid's lungs have been giving him trouble since he was only four months old. We waited because everyone told us that it's because he's in day care, and under three years old, and that the winter months are tough on little ones. It made sense. But then he got pneumonia just before his first birthday. And then just six short months later, he developed double pneumonia. In between those months were bouts of bronchitis. In fact, by the time he was 18 months old, he'd battled bronchitis about 12 times.

At that time, Griffin was prescribed daily breathing treatments and "rescue" treatments as needed. When he got really bad, he was on oral steroids, too. I don't think Griffin knows life without the whirring sound of his nebulizer.

It has been a rough winter for him with illnesses - ears (four infections in four months even after tubes surgery), bronchitis, colds, fevers, etc. Then came early February and we found ourselves rushing to the ER again with a listless little boy with a cough and a fever of almost 106. Diagnosis: Pneumonia. Again. That made three times in 18 months. And if that wasn't enough, he developed an ear infection just one week later, and then another bout of bronchitis just one week after that. That was it. We'd had enough and Griffin definitely had enough. We brought up the idea of seeing a specialist, but we were told that they most likely wouldn't do anything different from his current treatment plan. We mentioned it to Griffin's allergist, but she sort of said the same thing. Were we overreacting?

Last week Griffin developed strep throat. A week later he developed a cold/cough/bronchial infection. And now? Another ear infection. I did some research and found out that our current health insurance does not require us to have a referral to see a specialist. I picked up the phone and called the Children's Hospital. Our appointment is set for April 7th and I have never been so excited to see a doctor. Maybe, after additional testing, we will find out that this is how Griffin is and we should stay on the same treatment plan. But maybe we can get some answers, or even tweak his meds just a bit so they're more effective.

Griffin hasn't been healthy for more than two weeks in a row since early October. I miss happy Griffin. I miss his smiles and silly questions. He doesn't smile so much anymore and that makes me so unbelievably sad. I'm not expecting a miracle from this appointment. It could turn out that there is nothing more we can do. A little peace of mind would be nice, though. Peace of mind and a big 'ol smile from my Griffin.

The smile that I miss

(September 2010)

Treading water

2011-03-16T22:28:00.000-05:00

It has been one month since I last posted on my blog. To be honest, it's not that I haven't had time. I haven't had much to say. What's the point of reading this if all you're going to see is a series of complaints? Yes, lately my life has been stressful and frustrating. Whose life isn't? We all experience ups and downs in life. I'm no different. I took a long break during my most recent down. Not a real break, but just a break from my blog. It was one more stress I didn't need. Instead, I took that time to focus on just surviving. Getting by. Taking care of the basics in my life.

There is a lot of pressure to do it all - work a full-time job, take care of your family, stay on top of bills, etc. Then there's that little matter of actually taking care of yourself. What? You mean it's okay to take time to take a walk (alone)? To read a book (not one with pictures)? To browse the aisles at Target (and not have to explain to a two-year-old why you won't be visiting the toy department)? So that's what I've been doing lately. Reading. Enjoying the weather - taking walks, getting ready for our garden, sitting on our porch doing nothing else. You know what? It feels good.

My boss and I had a serious conversation this time last year. It was the first time I told her, or anyone outside of my family, that Patrick was unemployed and we were struggling. After telling her how the whole situation had been weighing on me, and how the stress of keeping everything (and everyone) together was overwhelming, she said to me, "Sometimes all we can do is tread water." In other words, all you need to do to survive is stay afloat. No fancy moves, just keep your head above water. That's exactly what I've been doing this past month. The pressure is still there. I feel it all the time, but the difference is that I can weigh what is truly important. Sometimes the laundry sits longer than I would like. Other times, I don't cook and we have sandwiches for dinner. Writing has fallen down my list of priorities. Instead, I choose to sit in my living room with Griffin, watching him squeal as I blow bubbles.

There is comfort in letting go of the pressure - letting go of the excess. I'm not trying to keep up with anyone else. I'm just trying to do what I need to do to get by. I'm treading water, and that's okay.

Sometimes good enough is all we can do. And when you think about it, what's wrong with that?

Derailed

2011-02-17T14:38:00.000-06:00

The past few months have been trying. Exhausting. Frustrating. And I swear, I don't want to complain, but seriously people, I'm ready to throw in the towel.

I knew going into parenthood that times would be challenging. I don't think anyone who intends to become a parent goes into it thinking life with a new baby is going to be like the inside of the Pottery Barn Kids catalogue. Because if it was, I would have signed up years ago. No, I went into this knowing there would be sleep deprivation and illnesses and even the trying toddler phase. Anyone who knows me knows how ill Griffin has been since October (not even counting everything he's had since birth). I'm not even going to list the illnesses because 1) there are too many and 2) I don't want to relive any of those moments.

OK, so kids get sick. I know that. They are constantly sticking their hands in their mouths and they have yet to master the whole cough-into-your-elbow thing. It's going to happen. But so often? And so severely at times? Griffin got tubes put into his ears in July. He did well for a few months, but then BAM. He's had four infections since mid-November. Four. One of which lasted three weeks.

Exactly how bad is it? Our pharmacist knows me by sight. And when Patrick picks up Griffin's medication, she tells him, "Tell Tracy I said hi." No joke. This has happened more than once.

A number of months ago, I spoke with my doctor about the stress in my life - some of it out of my control and other stress that I allow to take over. It turns out that I wasn't taking care of myself very well. Not so much physically, but emotionally. I was doing for everyone else, but not for myself. I wasn't reading or writing. I was eating junky foods and not exercising. I wasn't laughing. When I left her office I came up with a game plan. I joined Weight Watchers and began eating better and losing weight. I started going back to the library once a week by myself and slowly browsed the shelves. I started writing again and completed another NaNoWriMo. I even managed to get back into crocheting - this time I started making something for myself.

And then Griffin got sick. And got sick again. And again. I was forced to miss work. My anxiety level skyrocketed. I missed two Weight Watcher meetings in a row (one because I was in the hospital with Griffin and the next because he passed his illness onto me). I've been reading the same chapter of a book for the last month. That sweater I was making for myself? Still not done. I don't even want to bring up the novel I'm trying to finish.

Is some of this out of my hands? Yes. I wasn't going to leave my son in the hospital with a fever of 106 so I could go to Weight Watchers. I slept when I could (and believe me, I tried to sleep), but Griffin's coughing fits kept me awake. So yes, there were things I could not control. However, I am very aware that I could have done something to counteract the stress and anxiety. Sleep deprivation and a bad case of bronchitis didn't have to keep me from making poor dietary choices (OK, maybe that one Friday when I couldn't get out of bed, but all the other days I could have done better).

The bottom line is that I've been derailed...and maybe I derailed myself a bit. I'm going to go back to Weight Watchers tonight knowing full well that I've probably gained something fierce. It's a starting over point. A getting back on track point. Not just with Weight Watchers, but with being good to myself again. Reading. Writing. Planning our garden for the coming Spring. And laughing. I've really missed laughing. I can't wait to do that again.

Taking a step back

2011-02-15T15:20:00.001-06:00

I hate that my blog has become all about writing. I started this five years ago as a way to log the rather boring details of my life - not for anyone other than myself. I was a journal-keeper. I have stacks upon stacks of notebooks logging the boring details of my life going all the way back to my first years as a teenager. Life got busy and the writing slowed and then eventually stopped. Blogging was a way for me to get back into that habit of writing and tracking all that was going on in my life (even if it was interesting to no one but me).

I wrote about my family, my hobbies, my travels, and my passions. Along the way, I rediscovered my love of writing fiction.While I mentioned it frequently, I never did anything about it. By chance, I met someone who also loved writing. She might have loved it more than me. Or perhaps she expressed it more than me because the love was there, but over the years I just pushed it down. It was just another unrealistic dream.

But here's the thing. It's not unrealistic. I always say, If you don't go in, you can't find out. So a couple of years ago I decided to go in so I could find out. I completed NaNoWriMo in 2009 and subsequently completed my first novel. I'm working on completing Novel #2. I began reading published author/writer blogs and trying to soak up as much knowledge as I could from those with more experience. I've never admitted it, but all that did was make me aware of exactly how much more I needed to learn. I felt defeated and insecure. Not ready to throw in the towel (because you can't get rid of me that easily), but definitely discouraged. Definitely feeling left behind.

Until I read this post by author Jody Hedlund. A light went on! She goes on to say:

"But newer writers today have the pulse of the writing industry at their fingertips. And while there are an incredible number of benefits to being intimately connected to the industry, young writers may also be feeling undue pressure to do too much too quickly. And once under the pressure, they may soon find the love and joy of writing zapped from them.

I think newer writers, those close to the beginning of their writing journeys, need to take the pressure off themselves. And they need to give their creativity and love of the writing process time to develop."

I feel as though I'm in a mad rush to win a marathon. I need to slow down. I need to pace myself. I need to reignite that passion for writing that I've lost along the way. So I am taking a step back - no more reading so many writer blogs, no more trying to keep up with others, no more unnecessary pressure on myself. I just need to get back to the basics. Just write.

On hold

2011-02-11T23:07:00.000-06:00

I knew that keeping up with my daily word count was going to be a challenge, but I thought I was going to be up against my own motivation, work deadlines, family obligations, and love of a good night of sleep. I never thought I'd have to put everything on hold while I tended to a two-year old with pneumonia and a temperature of 106. Griffin was home from day care for over a week and all my time and energy went to giving him tons of different medications, going on follow-up doctor's appointments, keeping him cool and calm (not an easy task), and trying to catch up on my own sleep.

To make matters worse, as soon as he was well enough to go back to day care, I got sick. Really sick. I developed a cold which quickly turned into a bad case of bronchitis. Being an asthmatic, I'm used to bronchitis, but this one is a real doozy.

While I hoped to be done with the first draft of this novel by the end of March, it's looking more like sometime in April. How do I feel about being so far behind? To quote Griffin, who uttered this phrase to me while we were in the ER waiting for his lab results, "I no happy."

I do have a lot of catching up to do, but what really matters is that Griffin got over the pneumonia and is just about back to his regular, crazy self.

New look and an update

2011-02-08T11:49:00.000-06:00

For all three of you out there who actually read this blog, you're thinking to yourselves, "Tracy, why are you changing the look of this blog...again?" Or perhaps you're not asking yourselves that question and I'm just paranoid that people think I can never make up my mind (OK, I confess...I'm a horrible decision maker, but that's not why I changed my blog).

The truth is I got bored and I didn't feel like the layout really expressed who I am and where I'm headed as a writer or wannabe-writer (or whatever the heck I am). I like the look of this layout and I was able to tweak it just a bit (who knew I could figure out HTML?).

As for the goals I posted a few weeks ago, I am working on finishing Novel #2. I was all excited when I developed my word count goal. I even use a nifty little Excel spreadsheet to automatically track everything - even the anticipated finish date. However, last week Griffin developed a horrible case of pneumonia (along with a temperature of almost 106). Yeah, that pretty much derailed my word count for last week. Instead of writing 5000 words that week, I managed to get in about 3900. Not bad considering, but still a bit disappointing.

So here's to a new week and a fresh start...

Mama needs a new pair of shoes

2011-01-30T10:29:00.000-06:00

When I started Weight Watchers a few months ago, I promised that when I lost 10 pounds I would treat myself to a new pair of walking/running/cross training shoes (apparently the term "gym shoes" is outdated and reveals how old I really am). I can't even tell you how old my other shoes are, but they're pretty old. And ugly. I've wanted a new pair for a while, but with Patrick unemployed for such a long time, I wouldn't even dare think about buying anything that we didn't really need.

Fast forward a few months - Patrick has a new job and I've lost 12 pounds! So last night after our belated birthday dinner, we went to the store and I get these:

I wanted to wear them home. I didn't, but I really wanted to...

I had no idea that a new pair of shoes would motivate me to get moving. I sure hope these shoes help me lose a few more pounds.

Baby steps

2011-01-26T11:51:00.000-06:00

You know that saying "Go big or go home"? It annoys me. I understand why people say it, and sure, it has its moments when it probably motivates people - most likely athletes - but it's not always the right outlook. In my last post I listed my writing goals for 2011. When I came up with that list, I did a lot of soul searching: What do I want to accomplish this year with regard to writing? What is feasible for me to accomplish based on full-time work and family obligations (and not just obligations, but things I really enjoy and want to do with my family)? What are some things I can do to get outside my comfort zone?

Here's the thing - I didn't want to write these outrageous goals only to set myself up for failure. I needed to choose things that I thought I could accomplish, yet things that will help me stretch as a writer. For me, "going big" isn't really an option at this point in my life. That's not to say I'm not going to give 100 percent when I do write, just that I need to get some success under my belt. I need to start small and plug away.

My biggest struggle right now is finding time to write. The issue is that I need to MAKE time to write. But when? As much as I'm a morning person, writing first thing in the morning doesn't work for me. I'm constantly checking the clock to see when I need to hop in the shower, or seeing what time I need to wake Griffin up and prepare myself for our morning battle (he's a late sleeper). During NaNo I wrote everyday during my lunch break. The only problem is that I do enjoy having some social time with my coworkers. I already sit in my own office, isolated from everyone, so having lunch with friends is a nice treat for me. I do my best not to write when I'm with Griffin because he deserves my attention, which makes after work a bad time to write. You get the picture. I ended up writing during my "leftover" time. Not productive. I started thinking why I was able to win NaNo two years in a row. I cranked out almost 1700 words everyday for 30 days. That's when I realized that it wasn't about the amount of time I spent writing. I was focused on word count. So I've decided that if word count worked in November, it can work now. I've been toying with some word count goals, and I think trying to write 800 words per day Monday through Friday is very doable, and then writing 1000 words either Saturday or Sunday (or a combination of the two). That would be 5000 words per week. There's always room for flexibility, but I'm going to try this for a couple of weeks and see how it works.

Going big isn't the only way to win. Some people, like me, need to set smaller goals and chip away at them. Success feeds on itself and I'm much more likely to forge ahead. And let's not forget that other saying: "Slow and steady wins the race."

2011 Goals

2011-01-09T14:27:00.000-06:00

Well, we're over one week into the new year, which makes this post kinda' late. Eh. We had lots going on around here. Holiday traveling, head colds, the stress of returning to work, and prepping for a job interview (which I did not get, but I'm okay).

Just before the holidays I found another writing blog that challenged writers to adopt some goals for the new year. I've had some of these goals in my head for the past few months, but this is the first time I'm putting them into writing. That makes them more real, creating a pounding in my chest I haven't felt since I went into labor and knew that at some point I was going to have to push a human being out of my body. Let's just say I was a little bit panicky.

I've tweaked a couple of the goals, namely having an agent by the end of the year, because I know my writing isn't ready. Here are my goals for 2011:

Commit to finishing one book by the end of 2011 - my goal is to finish my current WIP (The Weight of My World) and write one more novel by December 31, 2011.
Start a fresh writer's notebook on January 1, 2011 - I've got my new notebook and already started using it!
By January 31, 2011, prepare three one-sheets for other possible books you want to write - I'm pushing this back to February 28, 2011 seeing that it's a crazy month for me at work (but I do have a number of decent ideas I brainstormed and added to my writer's notebook).
Identify and read at least three books on writing by December 31, 2011 - I don't have to look very far, as my bookshelf is filled with writing books and I've already started one that I got for Christmas.
Identify at least one writer's conference you will attend in 2011 - need to do some serious looking into this.
Secure an agent by January 19, 2013. Why this date? That's the day I turn 40 years old (gulp). It seemed like a good goal that gave me enough time to get another couple of novels under my belt. I know I have a lot to learn and I don't want to rush the process too much. I know that rejection is a major part of writing, but there's no need to send out my work until I think it's ready. Right now, it's definitely not.

Over the past year, I've made some writing friends and have some potential critique partners (another reason not to submit to an agent anytime soon - need to get constructive criticism back from others). I'm looking to develop these relationships over the year.

So there you have it, my writing goals for the next year. It will be interesting to see how things pan out and what I can report back this time next year.

Happy Writing!

So here's the deal...

2011-01-03T11:51:00.000-06:00

I have a job interview tomorrow morning. Not a big deal, right? Wrong. I haven't had a job interview in almost eight years. In fact, this is only the second job I've applied for in the past eight years. Here's the really sad and pathetic part: As soon as I got a call that they wanted me to come in for an interview, I panicked. Not just panicked, but got a horrible, sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. I had over one week to think about it and prepare, but even now, less than 24 hours from the interview, I still get that sinking feeling.

Why? Because I don't feel prepared. Because it has been so long since I've interviewed. Because I'm rusty. And because I'm so afraid of making a fool of myself. Maybe I'll stammer or trail off in mid-thought. Or worse, maybe I won't even know how to answer a question. I've tried everything to calm myself down. I've told myself that I'm not desperate for this job because I already have one. I've tried telling myself that as much as they're interviewing me, this is a two-way street and I have questions for them. I've even gone so far as to think If I make a total fool of myself, I'll never have to see these people again. Trust me, it's not working. The only good thing is that I caught a nasty head cold - stuffy nose, sniffles, headache, cough, and an ear ache. Why is this such good news, you ask. Because it just might be what I need to get through the interview. Maybe my red nose, lack of sleep and energy, and my throbbing ear will give me just a hint of an I-don't-care attitude. It's almost like something to fall back on if I really do screw up. Blame it on the head cold. It's a cop out, I know, but seriously, I just want to be able to go in there and sound intelligent enough that they don't cut the interview short and tell me to leave.

I pray that the interview leans more toward the conversational side than me sitting on the opposite side of the table being grilled by all of these people (another reason to panic - a group interview). Ugh. I'm sick just thinking about it. All I can do is prepare and hope for the best. Oh...and do my best not to sneeze or cough.

Right before my eyes

2010-12-18T08:19:00.003-06:00

In my nearly 38 years on this Earth, there have only been two times when my life flashed before my eyes.

When I was 16 years old, my mother and I were involved in a horrible car crash. After coming to, I found myself gasping for air, my lungs working overtime trying to get a full breath. I frantically struggled with my seat belt trying to free myself. That's when it happened. These images of my life, more like snippets, flashed in my mind. It wasn't like I saw pictures of Christmases past or my first day of kindergarten. They were flashes of what could have been - I'd never had a boyfriend, never been asked to a school dance, never gone to college. In a few short seconds I thought So this is it. This is how it's going to end. On a beautiful, sunny September morning. Sitting next to my mother. A patch of blood seeping through the leg of my brand new jeans. My red backpack, stuffed to the gills, sitting at my feet.

Turns out that seat belts like to lock when you're in a crash. The gasping I was doing was because the wind was knocked out of me as the seat belt locked and I was thrown forward. After a minute or so my breathing returned to normal and my thoughts went from Oh my God, I'm dying to I'm going to be late for my French test. Oh how the mind works at a time like that.

The second time my life flashed before my eyes? Last night. During what should have been a fun night at the mall doing some Christmas shopping, Griffin managed to take off and get lost. We were only going to be there for a little while, just long enough for me to buy something for my Grandma at JC Penney and then off to see Santa. We forgot the stroller and when we saw that it cost $5 to rent one at the mall, Patrick decided we'd take turns holding Griffin since we wouldn't be there very long.

As I paid for my Grandma's gift, Patrick came around the corner and said, "Griffin's gone." The funny thing was that I didn't panic. Griffin's a fast little bugger and as soon as we stepped inside the mall, he took off running through the shoe department. I assumed he was just hiding nearby, but the look on Patrick's face told a much different story.

Patrick went in one direction and I went in the other. We shouted for him. We ran. We looked underneath tables and in between aisles. No Griffin, but I still wasn't panicked. It wasn't until I heard a voice on the intercom call for a "Code Adam" that my breath caught in my throat. I looked down and in my hands I was clutching Griffin's winter coat, his little fleece hat still nestled in his sleeve. I ran faster.

We got paged to one of the registers where I was immediately put on the phone with security. They asked me to describe Griffin. I wanted to tell them that he was the sweetest little boy who loved fire trucks and frosted cookies, but that's not what they were looking for. The call went out over the intercom and my sweet little boy was reduced to a few measly descriptions: Griffin Moore. Two-and-a-half years old. Short blond hair. Khaki pants. Red shirt. I dropped the phone and ran.

It was then when it hit me. For the past couple of minutes I just assumed he was hiding or that he'd run right past me. I envisioned seeing him and scooping him up in my arms. People are good, right? We had complete strangers running through the mall helping us look for him. Someone would see him and come find us. But that's not always the case. That's when I let my mind wander off a bit. That's when those could have beens flashed in my mind. He never got to sit on Santa's lap. He never had his first day of school. He never got to play with the red fire truck that we got him for Christmas. And me? What if I never saw him again?

Just as I was headed up the escalator, I saw Patrick out of the corner of my eye. He was holding a smiling Griffin. As I approached them, Griffin held out his arms, smiled at me, and said, "Mommy up!" And just like that it was over.

No tears were shed until I sat down to write this. In fact, once Griffin was safe and asleep in his race car bed, Patrick and I sat on the couch watching TV. Without even turning to me, he said, "I can't believe we lost our child at the mall." My first instinct was to laugh - just my habit of using humor and sarcasm to cover up some of the panic. We joked about it for a second because, let's face it, Griffin was sound asleep upstairs and all was right with the world. But then Patrick said it again a few minutes later and then again. And again. It sank in and I eventually crept upstairs and looked in on Griffin as he slept.

Just like that, he disappeared, and just like that, we found him. We were lucky. We know that. I will hug Griffin just a little bit tighter when he wakes up this morning...and every day from now on.

The best laid plans of moms and sons...

2010-12-03T14:47:00.002-06:00

I'm going to get this out of the way early - I sent Griffin to day care this morning without any breakfast. Please don't tell me what an awful mother I am because I've already told myself that at least 100 times today...and it's only 2 PM.

Here's the deal. Griffin usually gets breakfast at day care. It's a really good breakfast, too. Believe me, my stomach starts growling as soon as I walk in the front door of our provider's house. Breakfast casseroles. Eggs. Biscuits and gravy. Pancakes with real blueberries. The kid's got it good. The only problem is that we need to be there by 7:15 AM so she can serve breakfast and get some of the older kids off to school. I have no problem with that, but someone does (think short, cute, and blond curly hair).

Griffin is not a morning person. He's also not someone who likes to be rushed, which is exactly what I have to do Monday through Friday in order to get him to day care in time for breakfast. He's still sleepy and rubs his eyes and swats at anyone who comes near him with clothing. I swear he can spot a pair of jeans from across the room. It's a struggle to get him dressed, and once he's dressed, it's a struggle to get out the door.

Today I decided that I would feed him breakfast myself and get him to day care by 7:45 AM. Sounded like a good plan. It was a good plan, but we all know about the best laid plans. Griffin and I had a battle royale. When I finally got him in the car (I practically had to sit on top of him to buckle him in), I tried to get him to eat something on our drive to day care. He had a sippy cup of milk, a banana, a small bag of Goldfish crackers, and a few broken pieces of a raspberry Poptart (the breakfast of champions, I know, but it was food). He had a few crackers, but that was it. He was really tired and when that happens, he doesn't want anything.

We got to our provider's house and she was already loading kids in the van. I handed him over and she got him in his seat. I got back to my car, pulled away, and felt a heaviness in my chest I haven't felt since the day I went back to work after my maternity leave. Guilt. How could I have sent my son without any breakfast? I know what you're all thinking. But Tracy, you tried. You had Poptarts and Goldfish. You did the best you could. But that's the funny thing about guilt. It never feels like you did good enough. There's always something more you could have done. I'm not sure what that "something" is, but I feel it.

Of course he can survive without breakfast, but the real question is how am I going to survive if I keep feeling this kind of guilt?

Addendum: This post makes Griffin sound like a whiny brat. He's not. He just inherited my stubborn streak and Patrick's short fuse (lethal combo). Lord help us all if he inherits my passive-aggressiveness and ability to hold a grudge for an abnormal amount of time.

All over but the shoutin'

2010-11-30T15:24:00.000-06:00

NaNoWriMo 2010 will come to an end this evening. I plan to be snuggled in my warm bed with my blanket pulled up to my ears. Another win under my NaNo belt.

I noticed a number of differences between this year and last year:

1. I love this story so much more than last year's story. I should really say that I was in love with last year's idea more than the end product, which is probably a direct result of my lack of novel writing experience. What I had in my head did not come through on paper. It was disappointing, but then again, it was my first novel. It was my starting point. Someday I would love to bring those characters back to life.

2. I had no idea where to start with this novel. Last year I had the opening sentence in my head ready to go when I opened my eyes on November 1st. This year, not so much. I sat at my laptop and stared at the blank screen for about ten minutes before I typed the first word.

3. I struggled more this year with pacing. This isn't necessarily a bad thing. Not every single detail needs to be written into the story, which is what was happening last year. My main character works in a diner, but we don't need to know every tiny detail of her workday, or what happens on her way home from work (unless it pertains to the plot or subplot). Who cares that she couldn't find a decent radio station or that she ate a bag of M&Ms because she hadn't had time for lunch? I ran into that problem last year and I made an effort this time around. I think it paid off.

4. I'm learning! I could tell about one week in that I had learned quite a lot between last year and this year. Like last year, I wrote this story in third person. I toyed with the idea of first person, but I realized a few days before NaNo started that I wouldn't be able to tell the story I wanted by sticking with my main character's POV. I'm glad I made the switch because I was able to write from two different POVs and also had the chance to write from the perspective of a sympathetic antagonist. Who knew I could write so well as an ex-con? I was also more aware of switching POVs. It's tempting to switch in mid-scene, but I was careful not to head-hop.

5. I still have lots more to learn. This is only my second novel (and I never fully revised the first one). I'm a beginner, but I'm okay with that status. For now. I hope that with each one I will learn more and grow as a writer.

6. NaNo has its pros and cons. The biggest pro? Getting in the habit of writing every day. I'm a sucker for a serious deadline, so that's why this works for me. Without the deadline? I flounder. I hope to keep up a decent pace so I can finish by my birthday (mid-January). The other pro is that NaNo lets me squash my inner critic. She is a boisterous gal, but I've learned to keep her in check. As for the cons, NaNo does focus on quantity over quality. Now that doesn't mean that I typed away without thinking of plot or character motivation. There were days when I wanted to write, but knew that I needed to sit and think for an hour or so. Sometimes I stopped in mid-scene because as I wrote I thought, "My main character would never do that!" So yes, there is a somewhat haphazard approach to writing. I've learned that while I'm not a total plotter/planner, I also can't completely make things up on the spot. I need to do plenty of prep work and research (how I love my research!) and I need direction.

As happy as I am to be done with NaNo, there's a little part of me that will miss the frenzied pace of writing. I'll miss word count checks. And more than anything, I will miss having something to call my own - this little (or not-so-little) challenge. Just me against my evil inner critic...and I won!

New math

2010-11-15T10:14:00.013-06:00

Math was never my strong subject. I don't need to say anything other than that. However, I found this great web site. This is the kind of math I can handle:

That's all for today. Patrick starts his new job today and is heading to Portland for a week of training and orientation. I'm past the halfway mark for NaNo and I hope I can stay on track while I'm the only parent at home.

The weight of my world

2010-11-08T08:40:00.000-06:00

We're eight days into NaNoWriMo and I'm still a tad behind in my word count. I'm not too concerned - I caught up a lot during the weekend. In the meantime, I pasted what I've written so far into Wordle to see what my novel looks like. Obviously my characters' names are what I use most, but otherwise here's what it looks like:

I didn't realize I used the word "just" so often. My characters use it a lot when they're talking. Does that count? Is it better to use that word when a character says, "I just want you to understand me" versus the narrator saying "He was just too young to understand the difference."

Eh. I'm still only 11,500 words in. I'm sure this will look different when I'm done. OK, I hope it looks different when I'm done.

Not how I planned things

2010-10-25T20:49:00.000-05:00

NaNo begins one week from today. I was really excited to jump into this crazy month of writing and meeting deadlines. Did you notice I said "was"? Deep down, I am still excited, but this past week has thrown me for a loop and NaNo has dropped down my list of priorities.

Griffin was sick last week and of course he passed it on to me. I bounced back pretty quickly, but I didn't do any NaNo prep work over the weekend like I had planned. Then he got sick again. It was just a runny nose and cough, but just a few days later we find ourselves waiting on lab results to determine whether or not he has Pertussis (aka Whooping Cough). It has been a rough week with trying to get myself healthy again and worrying about Griffin. He already has a history of asthma (plus two bouts of pneumonia in just six months), so I'm hypersensitive to his coughing/breathing, and these coughing attacks are scary. He can't catch his breath, his face turns red, he gags and sometimes vomits. I hear him wheezing and feel his back rattle. It scares me. I dread the evenings because he gets so much worse. I can't sleep. You'd think that would be the perfect time to sit with my note cards and my laptop and work on my new NaNo idea, but I can't seem to do that. I can't focus. I listen for his coughs. I check on him during the night to make sure he's still breathing.

I don't know what the rest of this week will bring. Right now Griffin can't go back to day care. It's going to be about five days before we get the lab results - that pretty much brings us to Monday (assuming that the lab doesn't work on weekends). Last year I found out that the first day of NaNo was the most important. Getting a good word count in on that first day was crucial. I'm not sure what's going to happen. Most importantly, I want Griffin to get better. As much as I want to be successful at NaNo this year, I just can't seem to make myself care about it right now.

I want to remember...

2010-10-21T20:04:00.000-05:00

How, at two-years old, you have more energy that anyone I know.
The way your face lights up when you see Daddy or Duncan walk in the room.
Your non-stop curiosity about life.
How you open up the cereal cabinet and carry a box over to us while giggling.
Your smooth skin.
The mass of curls that adorn your head like a little crown.
You playing in the sandbox by yourself, indifferent to everything else around you.
Chasing you through the backyard.
The way you want to snuggle on my lap every morning when you first wake up and every night just before bed.
Listening to your sweet voice try out new words each day. I wish I could bottle your voice and save it for the days when it becomes as deep as Duncan's voice. I could open the bottle and listen to you say things like, "Wha' happen?," "Wha' sat noise?," and "The moon go night-night."
The fact that you still want me to hold you by saying, "Mommy up!"
Your budding sense of humor.
How sometimes, when you're really tired, you still fall asleep on me.

I know that the days and weeks slip by so fast, but I never thought the years would do the same. Sometimes I watch you and wish I could stop time for just a bit. I think about grabbing my camera, but I know that no matter how amazing the picture is, it will never live up to the actual moment I try to capture.

Don't grow up too fast, OK?

A breakthrough in the nick of time

2010-10-19T10:20:00.000-05:00

Last week Patrick and I were talking about the upcoming NaNoWriMo. I've had this story idea in my head for a little while and thought I'd try it out on him and see what he thought. The first problem I ran into is that I hadn't really come up with a nice, concise description of the plot. Instead, I went in circles, trying to describe my main characters and what was going to happen. Yikes. He started asking me all kinds of questions I wasn't prepared to answer. I planned to delve deeper into my characters' lives and begin outlining the plot last week, but things were crazy with work and Duncan being sick. And honestly? Every time I sat down with my notecards in front of me, my mind wandered off in a different direction. It's not that I'm not interested in this story. That couldn't be further from the truth. I'm tired and stressed and I have this annoying little habit where I just want to get down to business and while I know I need to plan and prepare, I just hate it.

So here's the question that Patrick asked that stopped me in my tracks: Why should I care about her? What makes her unique? Gulp. I didn't know what to say, so I got angry and left the room. Once I calmed down, I really thought about it and started to take a look at my main character (as well as the other characters) and tried to get to know her better. I found an exercise in one of my writing books that has you conduct an interview with your characters. You know what? It helped. I also realized that I was making her too sympathetic. That's not a bad thing, but I didn't want her to fall victim to her upbringing, so while she's had a tough life, she is a fighter.

Through this whole process I also came up with an ending that I was not prepared to write. I didn't see it coming, but I think it works. It also will be a challenge to write, but I'm looking forward to it.

We're down to less than two weeks and I really need to get in gear. I feel much better about this than I did a week ago, and I definitely feel more prepared than I did last year.

If anyone is interested, there's still time to sign up {nudge, nudge}.

The question on everyone's minds

2010-10-13T15:16:00.000-05:00

Well, hello there...

2010-10-12T10:37:00.000-05:00

{Photo courtesy of Joy the Baker}

Where have you been my whole life?

{I know these don't fit into my new, healthy lifestyle...but I can still bake for the boys, right? And I'm sure they won't mind me staring and drooling while they indulge.}

Thirty days (and nights) of literary abandon

2010-10-08T09:25:00.000-05:00

I can't even begin to tell you how excited I am for the start of NaNoWriMo 2010 (that's partly due to the fact that if I do try to explain, I will sound like the biggest writer nerd out there). I love it. All of it. The pressure. The word counts. The fellow participants who offer support and advice. The rainy weekends when I can curl up on the comfy chair and write until my eyes are tired and my fingers ache.

I've had an incredibly busy month or so at work, and while I have a great idea for a story, I really need to take the rest of this month to do some research and plotting. I have settled on a very tentative title: The Weight of My World. I'm not sure if that will change, but I felt like I needed something before I start writing in a few weeks. I like it, though. It fits.

I will do my best to cross the 50,000 word mark by the 30-day deadline, and I am shooting for completing the entire draft by the end of January.

Only 24 more days.

Life at a standstill

2010-10-05T15:38:00.000-05:00

I'm tired of this blog. Actually, I'm tired of not having anything to say. Anyone who knows me personally probably got a big laugh out of that last sentence since I rarely stop talking...aside from when I'm sleeping, and even then, my brain is in overdrive. I have weird, vivid dreams and I remember all the details. Sometimes I wish I could slow down, or just empty out my brain and start fresh.

What I really meant to say was that I have nothing exciting to report. I avoid my blog because how many more times do I want to write that Patrick is unemployed? And how many more times do you want to read that? But the truth is that this is my life and it's what is on my mind. I never started this blog to entertain anyone else. I don't write here to have an audience. It was a place to document what was going on in my life. A place to vent.

So here it is. My rant. Unemployment ran out last Thursday. It was a shock as they had previously told Patrick he had one more round to go (another 12 weeks). Apparently the person who told him that was wrong. I wonder why she still has a job after making a huge error like that. Hmm...maybe Patrick could take her place. I'm over the shock. It's time for reality. And our reality is that we're pretty much screwed. We already have Griffin on state-funded health insurance (he's been on that since March and we are utterly grateful for that - there's no way we could have had his surgery or gotten his epi-pens or been able to pay for all of his doctor's appointments and medicine). I've tried looking into help with child care, but we don't qualify since Patrick is unemployed. Griffin desperately needs to stay in day care for two reasons: 1) He thrives there; those are his friends and his second family; he has learned so much from Christina and has had so many wonderful experiences there, and 2) Patrick needs to be able to go on job interviews and apply for other jobs. Taking a two-year old on a job interview is not going to make things better.

We just were accepted into a loan modification program which is supposed to help us keep our home. However, the day we signed the paperwork and found the money to pay for the first month, we found out about the loss of unemployment. The bottom line is we can't afford the mortgage - even with the lower interest rate. Right now I'm waiting for them to send me a request for income verification. I hope they're able to help us, but I'm doubtful.

I'm going on and on about this and I never intended to do that when I sat down to write. It's no one else's problem but ours. A few weeks ago I didn't think things could get any worse. And then they did. I truly hope this is rock bottom. Something has to give. Sooner or later Patrick has to get a job. Things have to get better...right?

Learning to let go

2010-09-20T15:11:00.000-05:00

I have a major problem. Well, it isn't a major problem, but it's one that I'd much rather focus on instead of everything else that I've been dealing with lately.

Do I take the time and energy to edit and revise my finished novel - one that I'm not going to do anything with other than consider it practice, or do I forge ahead and continue with my research and basic plotting of my next novel? Here's the dilemma: I acknowledge and understand the importance of rewrites. No one writes a perfect first draft. I know this from my career as a grant writer. I used to pressure myself to write the perfect first draft, but inevitably, no matter how long I held onto that grant and tweaked and searched for just the right words, my boss would return it covered in red pen. I learned to write a draft and get it to her as soon as possible, because no matter what, I'd have to revise. I understand that it's also part of the learning curve when it comes to writing fiction. It's an important step and I need to learn how to do it. Right now, I have no clue how to tackle this thing. Parts of it are utter garbage, while other sections are beautifully descriptive. I know where the gaps are and I know that it's going to take a lot of work to make it something I would let someone read (even my sister or husband). I don't mind doing the work, but I'd really like to start Novel #2 to coincide with the start of NaNoWriMo 2010 - November 1st, and there's no way I can revise my first novel and get myself prepared for the second novel in a little over four weeks.

I don't want to abandon this novel because I'm proud, not necessarily of what is written on all those pages, but because I actually did it. I do believe that the idea I have for the second novel is much stronger. I think the characters are better developed and overall I think the plot is more interesting. Maybe I should just look at the first novel as practice. An experiment. An example of my persistence and drive. Maybe I should put it away and focus on the second novel. I toy with the idea of doing both - revising for the next couple of weeks and then researching/plotting the second half of October, but I don't think my brain can handle it. I feel rushed and that is coming through in the revision process. Sure I can edit all the grammar and move around a few sections, but I haven't really delved into the true revisions - making my characters stronger, adding or cutting subplots, ramping up the conflict, etc. That not only takes time, it takes thought. It takes focus and concentration, and I don't feel like I'm willing to give that right now. I think I'd rather take that energy and put it into a better idea.

I really feel like I'm skipping a step in the novel-writing process. Kind of like I'm collecting my $200 without crossing Go. I feel as though other writers will look at me and say, "You can't move on to a second novel when you really haven't finished the first." I also feel a little sad to be giving up on this novel. I like it, but I don't love it. With everything going on in our lives right now, I don't feel like I have the time and energy to spend on something I don't feel passionate about. Maybe someday I'll go back to it, but I think that the more I write - the more experience I get and more I learn about the craft - I won't feel so bad about letting it go.

So here's to a new idea and the next novel.

Too tired and too stressed to think of a clever title

2010-09-17T15:34:00.000-05:00

So I haven't blogged in a while. It's been over seven days, but who's counting? Here's the truth. I could come here every day, or even every other day, and write something. Anything. But I don't want to force myself to do that when I don't have anything to say, and I definitely don't want to make anyone come here every day and read whatever nonsense I write because I didn't really have anything to say. But isn't that exactly what I'm doing right now? Eh. Whatever.

Here are some very valid reasons (in my humble opinion) for my recent blogging hiatus:

Work
I work for a non-profit child care agency that helps low- and moderate-income families with their child care. I write grants and do all the PR and craft an annual fundraising plan and coordinate special events. This year is our 40th anniversary and we are not only hosting a celebration, we were kind of pushed into launching an endowment campaign. Basically, we are trying to raise about $1 million. Needless to say I've been swamped. The event is in less than two weeks and I've encountered almost daily migraines. Blogging is being put on the back burner until life returns to normal.

Children
We have a teenager and a toddler at home. Need I say more? Yes? OK, well did you know that in the state of Iowa, you only have to be 14 to get a driver's permit? Duncan will hit that magic age in about four weeks. Add to that the fact that Griffin has been battling his asthma issues and we've been battling him with his tantrums. Really Griffin? You seriously need to wear pants when you leave the house. Wearing a shirt and a diaper is not negotiable.

Finances
I'll keep this one short and sweet. Patrick is still unemployed. We're living off of my non-profit salary, unemployment, and our tax refund. Being depressed and being at home with another depressed person is, well, it's depressing.

Migraines
See the previous categories for an explanation.

My blogging will continue to be sporadic, at least until this huge special event is behind me. Only another couple of weeks and hopefully I will be back with more positive things to talk about - like NaNoWriMo, a description of the painful process of editing the first draft of a novel, and of course a discussion of our Halloween 2010 plans (you didn't think we wouldn't come up with another great family costume idea, did you?).

Edited to add: No one really reads this, so I have no idea who I think I'm talking to in this post.

Book Review - More Than It Hurts You

2010-09-07T10:23:00.000-05:00

More Than It Hurts You by Darin Strauss

I'm not sure how I feel about this book just yet. First, it's a tough topic (muchausen by proxy) and deals with an 8-month old baby who is gravely ill. Not easy to read about when you have a little one at home. Second, the writing is a bit choppy at times. I have issues with reading things that don't flow. Third, I don't know how I feel about the main characters. The father is not all that sympathetic. In fact, he lets his wife make all the decisions...and she's more concerned about what the docs think of her than she is about her baby. How can I read this book if I don't like anyone (aside from the baby)? I'm going to give it a few more chapters.

View all my reviews

62 Days

2010-08-31T18:16:00.002-05:00

Summer is over. Yeah, I know there are still 20-some-odd days left of it in September, but let's be real. There are red leaves on the tree outside my house, football is about to officially start, and my family has been chattering about going apple picking. Summer is over.

That means we're just that much closer to the start of NaNoWriMo 2010, and I couldn't be happier. I'm not looking forward to the shorter days or not being able to play outside with Griffin after work, but I have been longing for those chilly days on the weekend when I can snuggle with my laptop and put onto paper (er, computer screen) what only existed in my head before that. Creating characters, flawed and broken, yet resilient. Describing in detail places I've visited or have longed to see in person. Plot twists and turns. It's all so exciting and it's only 62 days away.

It's not like I don't write any other time of the year, but there's something about that contest. The pressure to write every day. The camaraderie with other writers who understand the frustration and the love/hate relationship with writing under such a tough deadline. And then there's my favorite part - the freedom from perfection. The goal is to just write. Don't worry about finding the perfect word. Forget about how cheesy or awkward something sounds. It's a first draft. Because of NaNo, I successfully silenced my inner critic, and believe me, that was no small task.

Last year was my first NaNoWriMo...and I won (which just means I reached the goal of 50,000 words in 30 days. I didn't really win anything, although I did get an awesome certificate that I proudly hang in my office at work). From that experience, I came away with a half-completed novel that I eventually finished in July. I am slowly working on revisions and hope to have those completed before November 1st so I can start NaNo with a clean slate and new ideas. I do have an idea, by the way, and I'm really excited about it.

So I have a lot to do in the next 62 days - revisions on my first story, basic plotting of my new idea (I've already started that), and a name. I seriously need a name. I cannot, in good conscience, start NaNo with a novel called "Untitled." That's not going to cut it.

I encourage everyone who enjoys writing even the slightest bit to sign up for NaNo this year. I'll even be your NaNo buddy (if that's not an incentive, I don't know what is).

Happy writing!

Where do we go from here?

2010-08-26T13:38:00.000-05:00

Patrick didn't get the job. We didn't even talk about it last night. Neither of us brought it up in conversation - it was much easier to ponder the Cubs' fate next season, or why Griffin likes to throw things when he's tired. I used to obsessively think about things. I could ruminate on one topic for days on end until I was exhausted. I guess I still do that at times, but for the most part, I just do my best not to think about certain things. This is a good example. When I called and told my mom, she started to ask questions. What did they say to him? Do you think he wanted too much money? I simply told her I didn't want to talk about it anymore. It was the truth - my brain was already on overload and I couldn't think. I didn't want to think.

But here I am talking about it, right? The original reason I started this blog over four years ago was to journal my thoughts. I gave up on the pen and paper journal years ago, and thought this would be a good substitute. So I feel that I can comfortably blurt out anything I want to say without forcing anyone to listen to be feel sorry for myself. If you don't want to hear about you, you just stop reading.

I really thought Patrick was going to get that job. It seemed too good to be true - type of work, location, salary and benefits, etc. I could get all philosophical and talk about how there's something better out there for him. The Perfect Job. I could say there's a good reason why he didn't get this job. But you know what? I don't think those things. If there is a good reason, I'd really like to know what it is. And the perfect job? I don't think that exists. In fact, I don't see an end to this anytime soon.

Patrick sold one of his prized possessions the other day so he could bring home some money. It made me sad to watch him sell it. Here I go feeling sorry for myself when there are thousands of people in our same situation. But guess what? This is my life. I'm sure in a few days this will all pass and we'll be right back where we were before. Struggling, but healthy and happy.

50/50

2010-08-25T09:15:00.001-05:00

I'm anxious. Anxious and sick. Patrick got a call yesterday about the job he interviewed for a few weeks ago. It was his second interview and it was down to him and one other candidate. They told him it would be a few weeks before they decided anything, so we weren't too worried. OK, I'm lying. I was freaking out. Why? Because November will mark one year that Patrick has been unemployed. One year. It has been scary, frustrating, humbling, and migraine-inducing.

They called and left a message asking him to call back. He did, but had to leave a message. So the waiting continues. We assume he'll know their decision today. My gut tells me he didn't get the job, but I don't know if that's really my gut, or if it's a defense mechanism so if he doesn't get it I can say, "I knew it."

I know I'm putting entirely too much weight on this one job, but when you're closing in on a full year of one paycheck and unemployment, it's that much more important.

When every day was perfect and you knew it would last forever

2010-08-23T23:02:00.005-05:00

Tonight I went back in time almost 20 years. Back to college and back to my first love.

In June 2008 our basement was affected by the floods. It wasn't horrible, but it caused enough damage that Patrick had to pull up the carpet and rip out cabinets. Things were packed into boxes and placed in overhead cabinets and in the garage - anywhere we could find empty space. One month later Griffin was born and everything changed. The carpet and cabinets were reinstalled, but no one really had time to go through those boxes. This afternoon I pulled out a box labelled "Books" and found spiral bound copies of my master's thesis, various school papers, and a composition book. The second I saw the cover of it, I knew what it was. I hadn't opened it in years, and the spine cracked when I did. What I found transported me back to a time in my life when responsibilities were few and my emotions were high.

I've kept journals since I was 14 years old, but this book was different. It was filled with handwritten letters that I never sent to my very first love. When I wrote them, I never intended to send them to him. It was just my way of dealing with all of my emotions.

I started reading them and I couldn't stop:

October 5, 1992

I often think about that one night last year - almost one year ago to be exact. We went for a walk to the park. It seemed like we were there forever. We went on the swings and I jumped off and you chased me. That old man walking his dog stopped us to say how beautiful the night was. We laid down in the grass and talked for hours. I remember how infinite the universe seemed. I felt like I was floating, hovering over the world. We talked until the sky turned the blue that falls somewhere between night and day.

That was 18 years ago. He and I don't speak anymore. We had a weird fight on the phone a number of years ago - a misunderstanding, I guess. I was too proud to call him and he was too scared to call me. So we never spoke after that.

He was the first person I sat and talked with for hours on end. He was the standard on which I judged all other relationships. He was my best friend for so many years. Sometimes, like tonight, I miss him.

Rollin' with His Homies

2010-08-22T22:49:00.000-05:00

The first time in my life I ever quoted Tom Petty

2010-08-18T15:52:00.000-05:00

The waiting is the hardest part.

It is. And it has been for months now. I'm a bit reluctant to even post this because now that I've linked my blog to Facebook, anyone that I'm friends with (and let's face it, most of those people aren't really friends as much as they are acquaintances or ex-boyfriends or people that I was just dying to know how they turned out after our awkward phases in junior high). My point is that any one of those people can now read this - the blog that I started years ago as a way to replace my personal journal. So you might ask, "But Tracy, why on earth would you make public all of your private thoughts?" The simple answer is - I never thought anyone would ever read this. However, I have written and posted things that I do want people to read. So I battle with how much I really want people to know. At this point in my life, it doesn't really matter anymore because I just don't care what acquaintances from high school and college think about me. I so wish I felt that way back then.

Having said all that, some of my real friends know how rough things have been lately in my household. We went from a two-income, financially stable family to a single-income, financially unstable family. To put it in perspective, I work for a local non-profit as a grant writer/fund raiser. For those of you who can't read between the lines, non-profit = I'm not rolling in dough. I have a steady paycheck and I do OK, but we have a mortgage and day care and utilities and food and oh-my-god-if-Griffin-needs-one-more-round-of-antibiotics-or-inhalers-I'm going-to scream. The bottom line is we owe more than we make.

I am grateful that Patrick is getting unemployment each week, and even more grateful that while it must be a total blow to his ego to have to file an unemployment claim each week, he does it for all of us. We went about two months on just my paycheck and it was very difficult. One of the things that upsets me so much is that we are quickly approaching the one-year mark for him being without a full-time job. I bite my tongue all the time so I don't add any additional stress to his life by mentioning that I'm the only one with a job. But it's true. I am solely financially responsible for my family and my non-profit paycheck doesn't cut it. We're ridiculously behind in our mortgage and I get calls ever day from debt collectors. And it's not like Patrick hasn't been trying. He is waiting to hear back from a local company about a recent interview - it was a second interview, in fact. Any day now we should hear whether he got the position or if the other candidate got it. I'm so anxious about it because right now he doesn't have any other interviews lined up.

And I'm not just saying this because I'm his wife, but I can't imagine someone passing him up. He's smart, loyal, easy to get along with (unless you live with him, and then the abundance of coffee mugs that clutter the counter will drive you batty). Sometimes when I tell people that my husband is unemployed, they look at me a little strange, especially when I say it has been well over six months. Why can't he find a job? What's wrong with him? Is he not looking hard enough? There's nothing wrong with him and he is looking. He's either overqualified (no one wants to hire a guy with his MBA who is really looking for a more permanent, better-paying job) or he's underqualified (he doesn't have the exact experience they're looking for).

I'm not even sure why I engaged in this rant. I'm stressed and overworked and I'm looking at some freelance writing jobs to help bring in more money, which only means that I am going to be even more overworked and stressed.

In the meantime, we just have to wait and see if Patrick gets this job.

Oh Tom, however did you get to be so wise?

You're still here, but I already miss you

2010-08-11T11:12:00.000-05:00

In case you didn't know, it's August. It's August 11th to be exact. Duncan started eighth grade today and on my way into work, I found a tiny, red leaf on the sidewalk. What happened to summer? Wasn't it just yesterday that Duncan went to the end-of-the-school-year party? Didn't we just sit in the bed of the pickup watching the Fourth of July parade?

This happens every year, and every year when the leaves start to change color and the temperature begins to drop, I vow that the next summer I won't let it slip away so fast. I vowed the same thing this past winter. Every night I drove home from work, the sun long gone and the tree branches like crooked fingers in the sky, and longed for warm days and green grass beneath my feet. This summer, I told myself, I'm going to enjoy every day. And here we are, August 11th, and I'm once again wondering what happened.

I did take a week of vacation just after Griffin's birthday so we could spend some time together. We ran errands, played in the pool, and went to the zoo. I tried my hardest to soak it all in. While Griffin played in his sandbox, I sat on the porch and closed my eyes, knowing that I would never get that moment back. The neighborhood was silent. The only sound was Griffin's laughter. That was wonderful, but it wasn't enough. Those days slipped by so quickly, and before I knew it, I was picking out my clothes for the next work day.

I envisioned sitting on our porch late at night, taking in the summer breeze and pointing out the constellations to Griffin. He loves being outdoors, and he loves to point into the sky and shout, "The moon, mommy!" But we never did that. I wanted to eat dinner in the screened-in porch at the back of our house. Griffin and Duncan could chase each other in the backyard and we could enjoy our meal while listening to the crickets or the distant buzz of a lawnmower. But we didn't do that, either.

On my drive to work this morning, I noticed how green and full the trees were. How come I never notice that until the leaves are about to change?

But there's still time. There's still time to show Griffin the stars and eat dinner outside. There's still warm nights to take walks and watch Griffin chase after bubbles.

There's still time.

Total Copout (aka Picture Overload)

2010-08-09T22:27:00.000-05:00

I'm swamped. At work. At home. Things are just crazy, so that's my excuse for not actually writing a post, but only posting pictures. Besides, I'm really behind in downloading all of my pictures. So here you go. Enjoy:

A little hard to admit

2010-08-02T13:26:00.002-05:00

* photo courtesy of flickr

During my pregnancy I was diagnosed with gestational diabetes. That rocked my world and my diet. Up to that point I had been eating rather well - fruits and vegetables, very little sweets, lots of water. Thanks to non-stop nausea from weeks 7 through 15, I didn't even gain my first pound until I was halfway into the pregnancy. It was only a few weeks later, when I finally got my appetite back, that I found out about the diabetes. Everything I wanted to eat was off limits. I only ended up gaining 16 pounds by the time I had Griffin. I'll be the first to admit that when I found out I was pregnant I worried about gaining too much weight. I know I shouldn't have been thinking about that, but I did, and I know I'm not alone. I was 35 years old, so my body was different from what it was ten years earlier.

I was happy that I only gained the 16 pounds (and I ate a healthy diabetic diet), and I was even happier when I got home from the hospital and saw that I lost all but three pounds. I ended up losing all the weight in about 5 days and eventually lost another 7 just by walking a colicky baby throughout the neighborhood three times a day. I was finally below my pre-pregnancy weight (I was not happy with where I started when I got pregnant). I kept it off for a while, mostly because of all the walking and the stress of a newborn.

Something happened along the way. I don't even know when it was, but the weight slowly started to come back. I think I can start to trace it back to when Patrick's dad was in the hospital and then in hospice. I was home alone with Griffin, who was 6 months old at the time. He was having trouble sleeping (I swear he could sense the stress in our house), and was waking up every 45-60 minutes. I barely slept. When I'd visit my father-in-law at hospice, someone would inevitably offer to run down to the cafeteria and pick up coffee for everyone. I'm not a coffee drinker, but I'd ask for a Coke. I never drink pop before 12 PM. I never have, but I did then. I kept pushing it earlier and earlier, and before I knew it, I was drinking pop at 10:30 AM. My point is I started drinking lots of pop back then. Everything kind of spiraled out of control after that. It seemed like everyone was depressed and under a lot of stress. I was tired and depressed and didn't feel like exercising. Just a lot of bad habits.

So here I am, two years after giving birth and I actually weigh two pounds less than I did when I was nine months pregnant. Seriously. Two pounds less than being nine months pregnant. Gross.

I know it doesn't really look like it (I can hide it well), but it's very obvious to me. I'm uncomfortable and depressed about it. So I'm finally trying to take control of the situation. I have never been on a diet in my life, aside from the diabetic diet. I did great with that, but I had a really good reason to stick with it. I need to eat better (and less) and I need to get back to exercising. It sounds so simple, but I know it won't be.

So wish me luck!

Two pounds less than full-term pregnancy weight {shudder}.

A night like this

2010-07-23T22:55:00.001-05:00

I took my completed rough draft and pasted it into Wordle to see what words I most often used. Obviously, the names of my main characters were the most used, so I'm not worried. But like? Just? Know? Yikes, I need to edit big time.

Two

2010-07-22T07:04:00.003-05:00

Dear Griffin,

Today is your second birthday. I know it sounds trite to say this, but it's true - I can't believe how fast the time has gone. It seems like just yesterday I was still on maternity leave and you and I would take long walks every morning. You would sleep and I would talk to you like you could understand me. And now? You do understand me. OK, you understand some of what I say to you, but I know you get it.

So much has happened in the past year. Some good - walking, running, talking in mini-sentences. And some not so good - double pneumonia, ear infections, and a sprinkle of temper tantrums. The one thing I have learned this year is that there is never a dull moment as a parent. For someone who is most definitely not a fly-by-the-seat-of-her-pants kind of gal, I am slowly learning to do just that (if your father read this he'd say that I have a long way to go!). The point is I'm getting there. Just as much as we are teaching you things like don't kick the cat or the Cubs are the best baseball team ever, you teach us on a daily basis. For example, I've learned that you like to walk upstairs to bed on your own instead of being carried because it gives you a sense of control and independence. I've learned that it's OK and normal that you call me and many other women in your life Mommy. It's not that you don't love me, but that you are capable of loving others.

There are so many things I want to say to you, but I'm afraid everything is going to be a jumbled mess. Like you have no idea how I love the feel of your hair on my cheek when I snuggle with you before bed. Or how I love picking you up from day care after a day at the pool. I always tell you that you smell like a day at the beach. You have the sweetest profile I have ever seen - that little button nose of yours makes me smile and want to squeeze you all day. I love when you giggle while watching Curious George - you never know I'm watching you, but I can see you start to smile and then laugh. I am happy when I hear you laugh. I never wanted to be Mommy. I always preferred Mama for some reason, and that's what you called me up until a couple of months ago. Now when you see me walk in the door, you smile and say, "Hey Mommy!" and it makes me melt. I love your little toddler legs and arms and I tell you that all the time. They're smooth and soft and I squeeze them as much as I can because I know that if two years have gone by this quickly, before I know it you're going to be headed to high school. I love how whenever I say I have an "owie," you lean in to kiss it. I still love the look of your diaper-butt. I like watching you run around in your pajamas. I love how you say "Yummy!" when you eat dinner. You have the silliest laugh (you always have) and it is contagious. I love when I hold you and you pat me on the back. I think it's another way you say "I Love You."

So it was a jumbled mess, but that's OK.

You have been in our lives for two years now, and every day is something new. Thank you for teaching me to go with the flow. Thank you for making me laugh with a simple giggle. Thank you for helping me put things into perspective.

I'm proud to be your mom.

Love,
Mommy

Seriously?

2010-07-13T08:52:00.002-05:00

We finally had Griffin's appointment with the ENT last Friday. They conducted a number of hearing tests and then we got to meet with the doctor. Overall it was a quick appointment. Both of Griffin's ears were filled with fluid, which no one was surprised to learn. The doctor left the decision up to us as to whether or not to do the tubes surgery. I told him I wished he could give us a clear yes or no. He said, "If you want me to give you reasons why you shouldn't go through with the tubes, I can't really think of any." With that, we scheduled a date for his procedure. July 21. Yes, I know that is the day before Griffin's 2nd birthday, but the doctor said he will be all better by the next day.

Once we were on our way back home, I turned to Patrick and said, "Ten bucks this kid gets an ear infection in the next two weeks."

Yesterday afternoon I picked up another round of antibiotics for Griffin. Yep, another ear infection.

Is it wrong that I'm looking forward to him getting his tubes? I mean, I'm going to be nervous and worried about him, but everyone I've talked to has told me the tubes can make a huge difference. I want that for him. I know how hard it is on him having all these infections and the constant medicine. I want him to be his silly, playful self.

Despite the ear infection - and another visit to the doctor - things worked out pretty well for Griffin. The doctor gave him a chocolate chip cookie. Griffin smiled, took the cookie, and then said, "Nice doctor."

Going To Play "Beeseball"

2010-07-07T10:19:00.000-05:00

World Cup Bound

2010-07-03T22:41:00.000-05:00

Promises

2010-06-29T22:41:00.003-05:00

There are very few things I need to do before I die. I've always wanted to see Paris - after six years of studying French, I feel like I should go there and speak the language. Too bad that fear of flying gets in the way. I've already gotten married and had children, so I can cross those off my list.

Then there's writing a novel. That one has been on my list for years, but work and life always seem to get in the way. When I signed up to compete in NaNoWriMo last year, I felt like it was my chance to reach my goal. At the end of November I had written over 53,000 words and was only a little over halfway to my goal. The holidays were just around the corner and I stopped writing. I had half of a novel written and very little motivation to finish it.

As time slipped by, I found myself wishing I could just finish the book. What was getting in my way? It turns out it was me. I was watching TV when I could have been writing. I was reading other people's books when I should have been writing mine. So I set a deadline for myself. July 22nd. It's Griffin's second birthday. What better deadline to set for myself? As crazy as it sounds, I want to do this for him. Even though he won't understand it, I want to be an example of perseverance, hard work, and moxie.

I'm only a few weeks away from my deadline and I've written over 85,000 words. I've done my best to write every day, but it doesn't always happen. The most important thing is that I'm still on track to make the deadline.

Someday I'll tell Griffin about what I did. I hope I make him proud.

Flip-flopping

2010-06-29T14:51:00.002-05:00

When I first started a blog back in 2006, I used Blogger. It was free and easy and I had no complaints. After a couple of years, I started to feel limited by Blogger - there didn't seem to be enough widgets and I craved more creative freedom. Wordpress gave me that freedom. I really enjoyed it and it felt like a step up from Blogger. Of course, nothing is perfect, and I soon discovered that WordPress had it's limitations as well. I read a lot of blogs and often make comments. Most of those blogs I follow are on Blogger and when I go to leave a comment I have to go through a frustrating process. It's annoying (and makes me sound incredibly lazy), but all I want to do is leave a comment. Is that too much to ask for?

So I'm back to Blogger, and you know what? They've made a lot of changes and improvements.

It's good to be home.

Summer

2010-06-25T05:47:00.001-05:00

I love summer. I love the long days and being able to go outside without having to bundle up. I love sitting on our porch at night enjoying the weather and the sounds of our neighborhood (kids laughing and playing, the ice cream truck, people mowing their lawns).

Griffin loves summer, too. In fact, he loves it so much I can barely get him back in the house for dinner. He loves running in the grass in his bare feet and playing in his little pool. I don't think he cares what he's doing as long as he's outside.

We went outside this morning so I could take him to day care. He immediately ran up to his little bike and sat on it and started saying, "Mommy...bike!" over and over. It was so sweet. I watched him for a while, wishing I didn't have to go to work, wishing I could stay home with him and play outside. It's days like this, these gorgeous summer days, when I get frustrated with work. I love what I do, but let's face it, if I didn't have to work I wouldn't. Well, maybe something part-time just to keep my mind fresh. I feel like I miss out on so much with Griffin. I realize it on weekends when I don't have to be anywhere. We snuggle on the couch and watch Curious George. I make him pancakes and we sit together at the kitchen table just eating and talking. I love those times with him - the everyday moments.

I have no idea why I'm going on and on about this. I guess it was one of those difficult mornings where I wanted so badly to stay home with him and play and giggle. I do have a whole week of vacation scheduled for the end of July. I'm really looking forward to doing all those little things with my Griffin.

Always have to steal my kisses from you

2010-06-21T03:11:00.000-05:00

Griffin is a cuddly kid. As a baby, he loved to snuggle on Patrick's chest or snuzzle his little face in the crook of my neck. Pure sweetness. As he got older, and mobile, those snuggling moments have come in the form of just before or after sleep. He's ready for sleep or still a bit groggy after waking up, which means his little arms and legs that are usually moving non-stop are just too tired and he needs to sit still. I love sitting on the couch with him on my lap. His muscles start to relax and his body grows heavier. Sleep is not far off.

Despite his snuggly nature, Griffin won't kiss me. Oh sure, there have been those rare moments when I bribe him with a graham cracker or a Hershey kiss, but never when I just ask for one. It used to break my heart, but then it became a running joke in our house, and then it just broke my heart again.

Yesterday, on Father's Day of all days, Griffin was giving out kisses for free. We sat on our front porch and I leaned in close to him and said, "Can you give mommy a smooch?" And he leaned in and kissed me on the lips. All day, anytime I asked for a kiss, he gave me one. I even leaned in to tell him to give his daddy a smooch and he kissed me first, then ran over to Patrick to give him one.

Who knows if that will continue, or if yesterday was just a fluke, but I'll take what I can get.

Right now

2010-06-11T05:25:00.000-05:00

I'm waiting for the painkillers to kick in so my migraine will go away.

I'm eating Goldfish crackers because the meds leave a funny taste in my mouth.

I'm daydreaming instead of working.

I'm grateful for Patrick taking Griffin into day care this morning - my head was hurting too much to deal with the daily battle of getting Griffin dressed and out the door.

I'm happy that it's Friday - looking forward to playing with Griffin this weekend.

I'm proud that I've been keeping up with my writing goal.

I'm determined that I will finish this first draft by Griffin's birthday (July 22) - only 21,969 more words.

I'm disgusted with the Chicago Cubs, yet I feel compelled to watch each game.

I hope my boss approves my request for a week of vacation at the end of July so I can play with Griffin and prepare for his 2nd b-day party

I'm grateful for our state-issued health insurance for Griffin. It has saved us hundreds of dollars so far...maybe even thousands once Griffin gets his ear surgery. In all honesty, based on our income, we pay NO premium, NO co-pay, and all of his generic meds are free. I can't say enough how absolutely grateful I am to the state of Iowa.

Round three

2010-05-21T06:40:00.000-05:00

Griffin developed a nasty ear infection at the very end of April (including a temp of 103). After ten days on amoxicillin, he continued to rub at his ear and be completely irritable. OK, so some of his behavior is also due to the fact that he is just about to turn two years old. We took him back to the doctor on Monday and the ear infection never cleared up, so he was placed on a ten-day dose of Augmentin. Now, just four full days into that treatment, he starts rubbing his ear again and whining. Today we start round three of antibiotics. This time it's Omnicef. At his appointment on Monday, the doctor said that if this doesn't clear up quickly, or if he still has fluid in his ears at his two-year check-up, we'll be referred to an ENT and he'll have to have tubes placed in his ears.

At this point, he's had about eight ear infections. The majority of those have come in the past ten months. As much as I don't want him to have to go through the surgery (and yes, I'm very aware that it only takes 15-20 minutes, but it's still surgery and he's my baby), I'm ready. Ear infections in toddlers are way worse than teething.

So, yeah, I pretty much went from being swamped at work to being swamped at home - let's not even mention the fact that in the past few weeks Patrick has travelled to Charlotte, NC twice (he's there now) and Colorado Springs. I'm not sleeping much and it's taking its toll on me.

I hope round three of antibiotics works. For Griffin's sake and for mine.

Swamped

2010-05-06T09:42:00.000-05:00

I hate to keep saying this, but I have been swamped the past month. I've written more grants than I care to remember, we're in the midst of celebrating our agency's 40th anniversary (which includes a huge special event and fundraising), and like usual this time of year, we have our annual golf event.

The golf event is on Monday and that day can't get here soon enough. It's the build-up to that day that just about kills me each year. Imagine planning a wedding for 200 people every year, but without the fancy dress, dancing, and cake.

I'm looking forward to blogging more once the event is over.

Those three little words

2010-04-16T03:17:00.000-05:00

No, not "I love you," but rather "Mama, ball rolling." OK, so in Griffin's toddler-talk it sounds more like, "Mama, baw row-ee," but we know what he means. He even points to the ball as it rolls down the driveway.

It might not seem momentous to anyone else, but this officially marks Griffin's first 3-word sentence. I'm a proud Mama.

Spring Time

2010-04-08T04:05:00.000-05:00

"Sweet springtime is my time is your time is our time for springtime is love time and viva sweet love."

~ ee cummings

The post where I want to bury my head under the covers and pretend none of this is really happening

2010-04-06T06:04:00.000-05:00

Life has been tough lately. OK, so that makes me sound melodramatic and incredibly ungrateful for the fact that I have a job and a healthy family. I don't mean to sound like a broken record, but things really have been tough.

No news on the job front for Patrick. We did get an extension on our unemployment benefits, so now instead of having them run out in mid-March, we have until early June. I think we might be eligible for another extension, but we're hoping Patrick is employed by then.

I continue to be amazed at how extensive the effects of unemployment can be on a family. I am overwhelmed with being the only one bringing home a paycheck. Don't we all have those days when wejust want to tell our boss we quit? We don't really do it, but the fact that we could is enough to sustain us for another few weeks. I am swamped at work - too many deadlines and not enough time or energy. The fact that I can't just up and quit my job (even though I wouldn't really do that) is suffocating. There is such an enormous amount of pressure on me to stay employed (let's not even discuss the Illinois budget and the fact that I work for a non-profit that is expecting to see major cuts).

But that's not the only effect. There's this constant biting of my tongue that I must engage in so I don't say something angry or spiteful toward Patrick. I don't blame him for his situation (although I do go over and over in my head all the ways he could have circumvented this situation), but there are times when I want to say something to him. Something like, "Since you don't have a job, would it hurt you to run the vacuum/wash some pots and pans/fold the laundry/fix the window in Griffin's room/etc.?" It's such a delicate balance of being supportive and not going over the deep end myself because I take on all the responsibility.

I know that being unemployed is having an effect on Patrick. I can see it in his face and in the way he sits and in his voice. I feel for him. I know he feels a sense of responsibility to our family and he's doing everything in his power to help. It's hard to watch and it's even harder to walk on eggshells each and every day.

We have gotten to the point where we are accepting help from places we never imagined. We're still waiting to hear if Griffin will be covered through the state of Iowa for his health insurance. There was a lot of paperwork that needed to be completed/submitted and I think we might finally know something by next week. For now, we can't afford his medication, but because I work for a social service agency, I've been pointed in the right direction to a couple of places that might be able to help us out with the cost of his epi-pen. We tried to apply for assistance from WIC so we can pay for some groceries for Griffin (milk, bread, juice, peanut butter, etc.), but we make just a bit too much to qualify.

I told Patrick the other day that he and I have both been in denial about our situation. We have been living on one paycheck and unemployment for almost one year. We have drained our savings. We have borrowed from both of our families. We cannot pay for our mortgage, credit card debt (even just the monthly minimums), utilities, groceries, and day care. We owe more than we make each month, but somehow we've "gotten by." Some people get paid, some don't. But it has caught up with us.

I always felt like we weren't as bad off as some other people. But I don't think that's the case anymore. We are the people who don't make enough to get by each month, but make just a few too many dollars to get help. I finally told Patrick that we need to get help wherever we can and in whatever form - food pantry for some of the basics, local agencies for Griffin's medication and help with our utility bill (so that doesn't get shut-off), the home retention program through our mortgage company (we're already in a trial period), etc. Whenever I think about this I feel as though I'm taking help away from someone else. Maybe things aren't as bad as I think. Then I look at my checkbook and the stack of unpaid bills. I see that the mortgage company has sent yet another letter threatening to take our home. I receive another phone call from a debt collector. Add all of those up and we deserve the help as much as the next person.

I don't think Patrick wants to think we're at this point. I believe he still thinks we're going to be OK the way things are. We're not. He keeps saying that once he gets a job "everything is going to be OK." Eventually, yes, but not right away. We're going to have to work our way out of this pit.

So for now, I am the one who calls for help. I will be the one to go to the local church and get some free food. I will be the one to wait and see if we qualify for Medicaid for Griffin. I will be the one who apologizes every time a bill is late. I will be the one who begs for a little bit more time to find money to pay our mortgage. Just another burden added on my shoulders.

Still chugging along

2010-03-16T09:51:00.000-05:00

I'm still writing my novel. I just wanted to say that - I haven't mentioned it in a while. With everything going on lately (see the last few posts), it has fallen on my list of priorities, which pretty much sucks when you realize that it's one of the few things that I have for myself (because as much as I love to cook, when it becomes a have to instead of a want to, all the fun is sucked right out of it).

My problem is that I get the urge to write at the worst possible times - like when I'm rocking Griffin, or while sitting in my 3-hour management meetings, or when it's 11:30 PM and I have to be up at 5 AM and I know I need to sleep. Ack! It's frustrating.

I need a new deadline to keep me motivated. I miss NaNo and all the excitement and pressure of trying to write almost 2,000 per day. I thought about trying to trick myself into writing like that again, but I'm way too smart to fall for it. Oh well, I guess I'll just keep plugging away at it little by little...

Seeing shadows

2010-03-11T08:06:00.000-06:00

Our day care provider sent me this picture of Griffin. She took it today at Rocket Park:

I love this picture. I love that I can see the back of his neck - the soft neck that I kiss every chance I get. I love the swirl of blond hair on the back of his head. I love that I can see him giggling. I love that he is in mid-run, heading for the slides or swings. I love that he does everything - including playing - with so much passion and gusto. I love that Spring is just around the corner, and then Summer, which means that this is only the first of many visits to the park. Most of all, though, I love him. I love everything that makes him Griffin - his sweet little face, the way he says "puppy," how he dances when he hears music, the inflection in his voice as he tries to ask me "Where'd it go?," the way he giggles when someone hands him a chocolate chip cookie. Little Baby Griffin is growing up, but will always be my baby.

Three more months

2010-03-09T02:59:00.000-06:00

I'm back again after another long blogging hiatus. Things have been hectic. Griffin got really sick again, this time with a case of double pneumonia. Poor baby missed an entire week of day care. Normally, Patrick and I would check our schedules and see who could stay home what day and then we'd just take turns taking a day off from work. Here's the thing...something I have been avoiding writing about because, well, it's embarrassing. We couldn't take turns this time because only one of us is employed right now. That person is me.

I'm not even going to go on and on about why this is the case. Let's just say the economy is to blame. Patrick has been collecting unemployment since July 2009. And before anyone jumps to any conclusions, Patrick has not been searching for a job that whole time. The unemployment benefits were supposed to be a temporary solution while his company got back on their feet. He made the decision a couple of months ago to actively search for a job, which he has been doing all day and all night since December. Also, I don't want to hear about how he should have thought more about his family when he started on unemployment and looked for a job back then, because I've had the discussion with him numerous times. He was being loyal and didn't want to leave them in a bind. Patrick's a good guy, but look where that got him.

And to top it all off, we lost our health insurance at the end of February. I signed Patrick and myself up on my work plan, which means we're down another $265 per month. If I signed up the whole family, I would have paid $530 per month - we just couldn't afford that. So, I signed the boys up for HAWK-I services that are offered through the State of Iowa for uninsured children whose family meets specific income limits. Say what you want about Iowa, but they know how to take care of their children. The most we would pay for their health insurance would be $40 per month.

Patrick's had some interviews and there is a really good job that's basically waiting for him, but the position won't open until summer. He's going back to bartending, which I dread, but we don't have many options at this point. His unemployment runs out in three months. Three months. That's it. We are way behind in our mortgage (I get to field those calls just about every day). We can't afford to pay it now with my salary and his unemployment checks. But in three months, we'll only have my salary...and I work for a non-profit. You do the math.

Missing in action

2010-02-21T09:53:00.000-06:00

Just as I vowed to post more often (like I used to do), everything came crashing in on me. Griffin got over his bout of bronchitis and finally got all the steroids out of his system only to get sick again last week. Another case of bronchitis, but this time it wasn't responding to his antibiotics. When I picked him up out of his crib on MOnday morning, he was hot to the touch. I felt the heat from his skin burn through his pajamas and even through my pants. His temp was 103 and he was miserable.

After a trip to the ER and another chest x-ray, the doctor came in and told me it was double pneumonia. We had to pick up a really strong antibiotic, rotate Tylenol and Motrin every three hours for the next 48 hours, and give him lots of liquids (he stopped eating and lost over a whole pound).

I've been swamped at work and have some major deadlines hanging over my head. Patrick agreed to watch Griffin for the rest of the week so I could go to work, but early on Tuesday morning, Patrick complained of a sore throat. Let me preface this part of the story by telling you that Patrick never complains about feeling sick and he rarely goes to the doctor. When he called me around 12 PM and said he was going to the doctor, I just about fell off my chair. The doctor diagnosed him with influenza and started him on Tamiflu. Patrick had a temperature of 102 for the next couple of days and I wasn't able to go to work. I couldn't leave Patrick, who couldn't get out of bed, to take care of Griffin, who had pneumonia.

By Wednesday night I was sick again (I had a cold last week). I developed a horrible sore throat, cough, and headache. I ended up with a sinus infection, a bronchial infection, and a flare-up of my asthma. So now I'm using the nebulizer, have antibiotics, and am on Prednisone.

Long story short, I missed a shit-load of work and I spent my weekend writing grants. Thankfully, my parents are wonderful and came to visit this weekend to help us get back on our feet. They bought us some groceries and helped sanitize our house.

Summer can't get here soon enough...

The past couple of weeks

2010-02-02T05:05:00.000-06:00

I haven't posted in a while, and I feel really bad about that. It's not that so many people read this and are dying to know what's going on in my life that makes me feel so bad about slacking off. It's more that I have had so many different things I want to write about, but haven't had the time or haven't made the time. All of a sudden two weeks have gone by and I haven't written anything.

First things first, my grandpa is doing OK after that fall. Apparently he hit his head on a table. He didn't need any stitches, but did have to have a tetanus shot. He ended up falling again just two days later. These incidents made me think about a post I want to write about him - I just need to make the time to sit down and do it.

I celebrated my 37th birthday a couple of weeks ago. My family came up to celebrate and on my actual birthday, we went to dinner at one of my favorite restaurants (Los Agaves). Griffin ate his first churro and somewhere Patrick has a picture of me wearing a giant sombrero that the waiter put on my head when everyone sang to me. I'm sure it will come in handy if he ever wants to blackmail me someday.

Griffin was sick again last week. Another bout of bronchitis, plus two ear infections. The steroids made him a complete maniac. No naps. Lots of aggression. Definitely a rough week for all of us. I did try to find the humor in the situation byfilming him in one of his steroid-induced frenzies. Enjoy (and know that I'm going to do my best to post more often):

Waiting

2010-01-22T16:08:00.000-06:00

It's almost 10 PM on Friday night. Our night has consisted of greasy Chinese food and cleaning out the basement, a project that was supposed to be completed before Griffin was born (for those who don't know me, he's now 18 months old).

Yes, it's 10 PM and we're cleaning. Well, Patrick and Duncan are throwing out junk and moving furniture around in the basement and I'm cleaning. Nervous energy, I guess. You see, I got a phone call from my mom about 4 hours ago. She and my dad got a call from the assisted living center where my grandpa lives. She said he fell and hit his head. The paramedics were taking him to the hospital. That was 4 hours ago, and I still haven't heard from her.

I feel awful because when the phone rang tonight, I was on the couch with Griffin comfortably lounging on my lap. We were watching Mickey Mouse Clubhouse and I was daydreaming about the greasy Chinese food we were going to have for dinner and about the prospect of possibly getting a good night sleep, so I didn't answer the phone. In my defense, I didn't know who was calling. If only I had picked up, I could at least have spoken to my mom. When I tried calling her back, her cell phone had been turned off.

So all I can do is wait. I might try calling her in a few minutes. It's very typical of my mom to have good news and then not call because a) she's relieved she got good news and b) she doesn't wat to disturb anyone (like I'd even be able to go to sleep).

I hope everything is OK. I bought my grandpa a thank you card the other day because he always gives me some cash to help pay for all my migraine medicine. I haven't sent it yet. Another thing I regret doing. Hopefully the news will be good and I can pop the card in the mail tomorrow.

37

2010-01-20T10:38:00.000-06:00

[caption id="attachment_1158" align="aligncenter" width="510" caption="Me about 35 years ago."][/caption]

Yesterday was my 37th birthday, and to quote my mom, "How the hell did I get to be 37?" (although my mom used the number 60 when she said this a handful of years ago). Seriously though, how did I get to be 37? Wasn't it just last year when I turned 30 and then moved out here to be with Patrick? Wasn't it only a couple of years ago when I was starting college and mooning over the brooding poet in my literary studies class as he discussed the deeper meaning of The Unbearable Lightness of Being? (true story - he actually said in class, "I don't see this as a love story, but a story about the absence of love." I was smitten).

In all honesty, I'm OK with being 37. I once had a boyfriend who told me that while I was chronologically 19, emotionally I was 40. I always thought that my life would make more sense the closer I got to that age. Now that I think about it, it has. I mean, I'm still struggling with balancing everything - family, work, my own interests and dreams. But I have learned to let things go, to not worry about things I can't control. I'm trying to live in the present and enjoy what I have instead of think about and obsess over what I want, because chances are, I'm not going to get those things. Besides, what I have is pretty darn good.

It's January 7th and that means...

2010-01-07T15:39:00.000-06:00

- I totally forgot to write a New Year's post. Honestly, I was on vacation from work and being near a laptop made me think too much of writing grants and all the piles of work that were sitting on my desk just waiting for me. I didn't feel like posting anything.

- Today marks the 11th anniversary of my aunt and uncle's house fire. It seems like just yesterday that he died. It's even harder to believe that she 's gone now, too.

- I have a lot that I need to post about - the holidays, my new medication, writing, and the weirdo ear infection I had last week. Seriously, my ear was messed up for over a week...while I was on vacation. It sucked.

Because I haven't posted anything in a while, I need to ease back into it. So here's a total cop-out. It's a video I took just a couple of hours ago. It's Griffin being, well, being Griffin. There's really no other way to explain it. Just do me one favor - don't look at or comment on or even judge me for the condition of our family room. I'm chalking it up to fatigue, total vacation laziness, and the weirdo ear infection. Just watch Griffin and enjoy...

Courage

2009-12-19T16:56:00.000-06:00

"Courage does not always roar. Sometimes courage is the quiet voice at the end of the day saying, "I will try again tomorrow."

- Mary Anne Radmacher

The weight of the world

2009-12-16T01:31:00.000-06:00

I don't think the blues I've been experiencing on and off since August are going away. I want them to. I desperately want them to, but they're not. Over the past 24-hours I've been trying to think of how to describe it because I know I'm going to have to see the doctor to talk about things. The word "depressed" doesn't cut it. Neither does "overwhelmed," although I feel both. This morning, when my alarm went off in my ear, it hit me. Heaviness. Bogged down. I wake up every morning, sometimes to the alarm and sometimes to Griffin fussing to find a more comfortable position in his crib, and I want to cry (and sometimes I do as soon as my eyes open). Why? Because I feel the weight of the world on me. And you can all try to convince me that I'm just overreacting. On a cerebral level I know this, but my goodness, it sure feels that way...and that's what's important. I feel this heaviness pushing down on me every single day. Every single second. And as hard as I try, and believe me, I've tried, I can't get out from under it.

The heaviness is work and financial stress. It's taking care of people - Griffin and Duncan and even Patrick. It's feeling like I have nothing that's truly mine. Seriously, as hectic as NaNoWriMo was, it was so lovely because it was all mine. It was my challenge and my time to do something for me. I've lost myself somewhere along the way and what I'm left with is this weight that sits on me, pushing down harder and harder. It makes me feel trapped and sometimes I have these flashes of "this is my life now" and that makes me feel even more claustrophobic.

I worry all the time. About Griffin and finances and everyone's health. I used to love sleep, but now I find myself dreading going to sleep. As strange as it might sound, I'm worried that something bad will happen in the middle of the night. I think about Griffin's bout with pneumonia and how he just woke up and had this insanely high fever. I think about the phone call we got at 2:30 AM almost one year ago that Patrick's father had a heart attack and was on life support. I figure that if I stay up, nothing will startle me in the middle of the night. Stupid? Yes, but I don't know how to work through that. And when I do sleep, I wake up to the smallest sound and I stay awake.

I have an appointment with my regular doctor this afternoon to discuss antidepressants. I tried my hardest to avoid them, but right now, I don't see how I can. It makes me feel like a failure, like I couldn't do it on my own (even with seeing a psychologist). It makes me feel like I'm not strong enough when I always thought I was pretty tough.

I don't want people to think I'm relying on medication to make me better, but I think I need a jumpstart. The weight is so heavy that it clouds my view on everything. Going to work is frustrating. Cooking dinner is too much to handle. Griffin's recent meltdowns are driving me to tears. This isn't me normally. It's the weight. And right now, I don't see any other way to help lift it.

Something I hate, hate, hate

2009-12-11T07:13:00.000-06:00

Let me preface this post by saying that I am in a pretty decent mood so far this holiday season. I'm enjoying the Christmas music, our decorated tree, and I've even thought about baking some holiday goodies. So this brief rant has nothing to do with me being in a bad mood.

I've been noticing a trend lately that really annoys me. Maybe I'm a little late on this one and it's been going on for a while, but I cannot stand when people say "love, love, love." As in, "I love, love, love Reese Witherspoon's style." Or, "I just love, love, love Christian Siriano" (and I really do love him, hence using him in that example). I've noticed this a lot while reading blogs - people tend to write that in their comments. It really gets under my skin. What's so wrong with saying that you "really love" something or even putting LOVE in all caps? Why the love, love, love? Who started that and why? When is it going to end? Ugh.

I'm seeing it everywhere and I can't tell you how much I hate, hate, hate it.

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times

2009-12-07T05:40:00.000-06:00

Oh, who am I kidding? It was the worst of times. This weekend. Last night. Awful. Plain and simple.

Patrick and I took Griffin to Chicago to go to the One of a Kind Show where my sister has been one of the artists for the past four years. We went in 2006, 2007, and we skipped 2008 because Griffin was just too little and we were just plain exhausted. He's 16-months old. We figured this would be a great age to take him downtown to see the show and maybe even the lights on Michigan Avenue.

To make that part of the long story much shorter, I'm just going to say that about a month or so ago, we realized that Griffin had hit his Terrible Twos really, really early. We've nicknamed him Mr. Meltdown and Mr. Noodle (his whole body goes limp and he's suddenly about 40 pounds heavier than usual). That's what we dealt with all weekend. The poor kid was stuck in a carseat for three hours to get to Chicago and then we needed to get him in a stroller to look around the show. He wasn't having it. He also wasn't having someone carry him around. Those were our options. He struggled. I got frustrated. Patrick and I took turns. Thankfully my mom was there and gave us a break here and there (and of course, he wasn angel for her).

So two days of battling Mr. Noodle.

Then comes the drive home. Again, long story short, it took us 5 hours to get home. Coming straight from the Loop, it should only take about 2.5 hours. We hit some massive traffic and then Griffin screamed and screeched the whole way. In his defense, I think he was in a bit of pain (anyone with kids knows that sometimes eating a whole pile of grapes can wreak havoc on the tummy). So as not to bore anyone with this story in narrative form, let me just hit the highlights:

Screaming commences before we get out of Chicago

It continues until we pull over somewhere in Naperville (at this point, we could have been in freaking Alaska - I couldn't focus).

I change Griffin's diaper in the car in the parking lot of Macy's

We drive to Portillo's to get him out of the carseat for a while.

All is right in the world and we leave.

Screeching commences about 15 minutes into the drive.

I pray he falls asleep soon.

Griffin teases me with his fake snoring (and then a loud snort and a giggle).

He screams some more and finally falls asleep.

I fall asleep.

I awake, 20 minutes later, to more screaming.

This goes on for what seems like forever.

I announce to Patrick that if I had a gun, I'd freaking shoot myself (I think Patrick contemplates pulling over and dumping me and Griffin off on the side of the highway).

More screaming.

I ask Patrick to smother me and put me out of my misery.

Griffin finally falls asleep at Mile Marker 25 (yep, only 25 more miles until we hit the Iowa border).

I sit still and rigid in the front seat, hoping he stays asleep until we at least get to the single digit mile markers.

We pull into the driveway and relax.

Griffin starts screaming.

He seemed fine once we got inside. He was smiling and laughing. I think he was really tired of being in the car seat all weekend. The only running around he got to do was at my parents' house on Saturday night/Sunday morning. Not much.

Oh, and when we walked in the house, we were hit in the face by the overwhelming smell of natural gas. We had the gas company out at our house at 11 PM. They checked and said everything was OK, even though the guy said he could smell the gas.

So yesterday sucked big time. The only highlight was that we learned that if you ask Griffin what Santa says, he will say, "Ho Ho!" Definitely cute, but not enough to wipe away the memory of the crap day we had.

Finishing

2009-12-02T07:25:00.000-06:00

Now that NaNoWriMo is over (and I won!), I'm left with a half-finished first draft of a novel. It's a story that has been in my head for almost a year and I'm beyond thrilled to have gotten part of it down on paper (er, computer). Anyway, I've got too much invested in it to just let it go. Sure, NaNo was fun - and I'm definitely going to do it again next year - but for me the challenge didn't stop on December 1st. I really want to finish my story. So I've decided to give myself the goal of finishing by January 18th. I initially said I'd have it done by the end of December, but with the holidays thrown in there, I know things are going to be tight. I picked the 18th because the very next day will be my 37th birthday. {OK, I just looked at that and freaked out because I'm officially going to be in my late-30s - very weird because I still feel 27}. I thought that the best birthday present I could give myself would be to wake up on my birthday and have a completed first draft.

I'm excited about the new challenge.

Winner, winner, chicken dinner!

2009-11-29T09:00:00.000-06:00

An early Thanksgiving

2009-11-24T10:53:00.000-06:00

I am very thankful that my neurologist refilled my prescription for painkillers.

Griffin playing in the leaves

2009-11-22T03:13:00.000-06:00

These pictures were taken during the one day in the past 5 weeks when Griffin was actually healthy (yes, he's sick again).

Finally!

2009-11-18T13:34:00.000-06:00

I just finished writing the scene that I've been thinking about since I first thought up this story idea. It flowed right off my fingers and even though this is only a first draft, I really like how it turned out. Of course, there will be revisions and I will probably go back and think it's just atrocious, but for now, I'm happy.

I'm also over 30,000 words! Almost 3,000 words today - very proud of myself for that.

I think we've all felt this way at some point

2009-11-17T08:12:00.000-06:00

I was browsing some of my favorite blogs during lunch and came across this gem of a post from All & Sundry - I don't think I could have said it any better myself. Especially after the past couple of weeks.

And yes, Griffin, I love you very much, but seriously?

I can't believe I forgot to post this

2009-11-17T04:14:00.000-06:00

Our day care provider sent me this picture of Griffin a couple of weeks ago just as he woke up from his morning nap. Now don't get me wrong, I love his curly hair. It's just that, well, he really does look like the Heatmiser.*

We love him curly hair and all, but we promptly got him in for a haircut (Griffin, not the Heatmiser - he can take care of his own grooming).

* I cannot take credit for the Heatmiser reference - that was all Christina's idea (she's our fabulous day care provider).

Milestone

2009-11-15T06:35:00.000-06:00

I just crossed the halfway mark in NaNo. I checked my total words and am at 25,159. There are 15 more days to go (counting today, and I'm going to count today because I'm not done writing).

The funny thing is that I am not even close to the halfway point in the novel. I just hope that I can reach 50,000 by the end of the month and that I can finish the novel if I'm not done with it by then. I'm worried I'm going to stop writing once NaNo is done. I must finish the novel or this whole thing was a waste.

Dinner conversations with a brand-new teenager

2009-11-12T12:49:00.000-06:00

Duncan: Tracy, did you go to the store today?

Me: No, did you need something?

Duncan: I need more shampoo.

Me: Any particular kind?

Duncan: It doesn't really matter, but there's some, like, two-in-one stuff.

Me: Like shampoo and conditioner in one?

Duncan: Yeah!

Me: I know exactly what you're talking about. I'll get some tomorrow.

Duncan: Um, Tracy. I want the stuff that's for men.

The widgets are working! The widgets are working!

2009-11-06T03:58:00.000-06:00

Two things:

1) The widgets are working (as you can see on the right-hand side of my blog).

2) The fact that I care about the widgets makes me a total loser.

Slow and steady wins the race

2009-11-05T04:32:00.000-06:00

My NaNo word count is 6,725 as of yesterday afternoon. I wasn't able to get any more done last night because somehow Griffin has managed to get sick...again. Hopefully it's just a headcold this time and nothing else.

During the weekdays, I'm sticking to my plan of trying to write in the morning before Griffin wakes up (hasn't been happening because of the time change and his cold). Then I write during my lunch break at work - supposed to only be 20 minutes, but I stretch it to 30. Then I write at any other time I get the chance, but it better be before 8 PM because after that, I'm toast.

So 6,725 is pretty much on pace with the 1,667 words/day goal. In fact, I'm a few words ahead of that pace, so I will go ahead and pat myself on the back.

This weekend will be the true test since Patrick is leaving for Charlotte, NC tonight and won't be back until Sunday night. Oh, and there's a Bears game on Sunday afternoon (hey, a girl's got to have her priorities, right?).

So basically I want to tell all those NaNoers who cranked out, like 15,000 on the first day to suck it because my measly little 6,725 words after four days is still on target to win.

I came for the drinks, but I stayed for the love

2009-11-03T05:37:00.000-06:00

My back-up husband will be performing at the Double Door in Chicago this weekend, and once again, I'm going to miss him. Timing and geography are not our friends.

Ceci - if you're reading this, he'll be in Bloomington on November 8th. Lucky girl.

Another e-mail from my dad

2009-11-02T03:51:00.000-06:00

He's the best dad...ever:

Rocky:

I like the writing project you have successfully begun today. It is like running a marathon of 26 miles, except you are writing a marathon of 50,000 words!

Rocky, you can do it and by making a public announcement, we'll be checking in on your progress as you reach various milestones like 5000, 10000, 15000 .... words.

Good luck.

Love, Paw

In case you're wondering about the nicknames Rocky and Paw, I wrote about them here a couple of years ago.

I'm a cowboy, on a steel horse I ride

2009-11-01T16:42:00.000-06:00

So I think I mentioned that we were going to dress up as an 80s rock band for Halloween. Between getting our costumes together and someone's crankiness (I'll give you one guess), we almost didn't make it out the door for Halloween. OK, I admit, I was the one ready to throw in the towel, but it all turned out OK. Griffin loved going up to people's doors even if he wasn't getting candy.

OK, enough chit chat, here's a look at our costumes:

[caption id="attachment_1071" align="aligncenter" width="510" caption="I think our band name should be Moore Than You Can Handle..."][/caption]

[caption id="attachment_1072" align="aligncenter" width="510" caption="I didn't have to ask him to make this face."][/caption]

[caption id="attachment_1073" align="aligncenter" width="510" caption="Don't ask"][/caption]

[caption id="attachment_1074" align="aligncenter" width="510" caption="Patrick's pants were so tight that when I saw him from behind I almost peed my pants"][/caption]

[caption id="attachment_1076" align="aligncenter" width="510" caption="My baby Griffin rockin' his Chuck Taylors"][/caption]

And one more post-Trick-or-Treating picture:

[caption id="attachment_1077" align="aligncenter" width="510" caption="Digging into Duncan's stash of candy"][/caption]

And we're off...

2009-11-01T01:51:00.000-05:00

I started writing at 5:30 this morning. After 1 hour and 15 minutes, I've written 1221 words. I have a word count on my blog, but I don't think NaNoWriMo has gotten the links up and running just yet.

Awww...

2009-10-31T10:54:00.000-05:00

On the eve of NaNoWriMo, I received the following e-mail from my father:

Tracy:

Good luck on your November writing project. May the words flow.

Love, Paw

Thanks Dad :-)

Just playing around a bit

2009-10-29T10:50:00.000-05:00

A lot of people participating in NaNo have created "book covers" for their upcoming novels. I thought this was so silly. Why do that when you haven't even started writing? But the more I thought about it, the more I realized that the cover of a book can speak volumes. I'll even go so far as to say that at times, I've picked up a book based on the cover - just to read what it's about.

I honestly think that the whole process of thinking about what I'd want on the cover was helpful. It made me think about the whole feeling of my story.

Besides, it was a good diversion for me - it let me play around on the computer and also helped get my mind off the fact that with only two more days left before we start writing, I still feel unprepared.

But hey, if I could create a cover for my non-book, it might look something like this:

Down to the wire

2009-10-28T09:04:00.000-05:00

NaNoWriMo starts on Sunday. That leaves me only four more days (counting today) to finish prepping for this challenge. I'm getting nervous and I'm not exactly sure why. OK, so I'm afraid of "failing" - not making it to at least 50,000 words. I'm also afraid of getting one-third of the way into the novel and then freezing, having absolutely no idea what should happen next.

I haven't written anything in a really, really long time and I'm worried that I'm going to be rusty. Then I start thinking about all the little details that I still need to figure out. Like what the heck does one of my main characters do for a living? And how much do I need to know about that profession before I start writing? I know it doesn't sound like a bg deal, but it makes a difference. I don't want to be in the middle of this when I decide what his job is and then have no clue about the logistics of it all - what kind of work schedules do they have? How much would he earn (which affects what kind of lifestyle he has)?

I'm feeling overwhelmed by all the details and the very little time I have left. Why the hell did I even agree to try this? What on earth possessed me to try to write a novel in 30 days? How can I get this done while working full-time and dealing with all the other aspects of my regular life?

I want to win the challenge. I'm afraid that if I don't make it to 50,000 I'm just going to give up. This challenge is giving me the opportunity to finish something on that big ol' to-do list of life that some of us have.

Tonight is going to consist of finishing up our Halloween costumes and then I hope to go home and get more work done. I tried last night, but Griffin had other ideas.

Four more days.

Sunday sucked big time

2009-10-25T16:48:00.000-05:00

I'm not even going to try to make this post funny. Today sucked. The morning started out OK - played with Griffin, took him grocery shopping, and then we got home and everything went downhill. He wouldn't take a nap even though he was exhausted. We had a similar problem with him going to bed the previous night. This morning he was not having it...and Patrick was growing frustrated. I was getting tired (I'm also fighting a cold and a fever). He wasn't just fussing. He was screaming. Ear piercing screams with tears. It just got worse and worse. He finally wore himself out and slept for 30 minutes. When he woke up it started again.

This went on until he fell asleep in the car at 1:30 PM. He slept for 50 minutes (yes, I drove that whole time - don't forget he was a colicky baby and this is how we survived for almost four months).

I took him to clinic that's open on weekends and it turns out he has a nasty ear infection. When I told Patrick, he said, "I feel bad for yelling at him." In his defense, he didn't really yell. We were exhausted and frustrated and confused.

So the little man is on another antibiotic. That makes two in a little over a week.

Can't get no respect

2009-10-22T17:18:00.000-05:00

I don't mean to brag, but at only 15 months of age, Griffin is a comic genius. At his doctor's appointment this morning, he sat very still in his diaper and socks while the nurse took his temperature and listened to his heart. He stared at her and even smiled. When she got up to leave, she said, "The doctor will be right in." Without missing a beat, Griffin said, "Uh oh."

Thank you! He'll be here all week (and for the next, like, 20 years).

T minus 10 days

2009-10-22T08:58:00.000-05:00

Halloween dilemma

2009-10-21T08:31:00.000-05:00

OK, so it's probably not a big deal to anyone other than me, but the whole decision to dress up as an 80's rock band is bothering me. Don't get me wrong because I think it's a cool idea, but it means that I won't have any sweet, adorable pictures of Griffin dressed up as a bear or a peanut or something cute like that. Last year we went as the Wizard of Oz and he was the Cowardly Lion (make that the Cranky Lion - but he was just hungry), and he looked sweet. Now I have this crazy fear that I'll look back in about 10 years and wonder why I dressed him in acid-washed denim and let him whip around drum sticks for pictures.

So I've decided that for the sake of pictures, I just have to get him a cute (and inexpensive) kids costume. And, um, it's October 21st, so I need to hurry up and buy it.

It takes one to know H1N1

2009-10-19T17:16:00.000-05:00

Griffin has been sick for the past week. We didn't give it much thought, but ended up bringing him to the doctor because he ended up being rather cranky at day care and was developing a dry cough. He checked out OK - just some viral crud. That was last Tuesday. By Friday, he spiked a high fever and his cough was worse. No day care. The doctor called in an antibiotic along with strict orders to call first thing the following morning if he wasn't any better. By 10 PM that same night, he was much worse. His breathing was labored and his cough was really "crunchy." With no other options, we headed to the ER. The diagnosis was bronchitis. Two hours and a dose of oral steroids and a breathing treatment later, we were on our way home. Poor Griffin was exhausted from coughing and from kicking and screaming during the treatment.

He seemed a bit better on Saturday, but on Sunday evening he developed another high fever. It lingered this morning and his cough was just awful. It was more of a bark than anything else. I made another appointment and found out that Griffin has the flu (along with bronchitis). The problem is that our local ERs will not swab for H1N1 (it's their strict policy). Today was four days after his initial symptoms, which is too late to start him on antivirals even if he did test positive for that strain of flu. Besides, I was told that with babies under 2, any flu is being treated as H1N1, and that the biggest concern is secondary infection (pneumonia, etc.). Griffin has been on an antibiotic since Friday, so he's covered in that department.

We are supposed to give him until Wednesday and then call the doctor to tell him Griffin's symptoms - they will decide of we need to bring Griffin in for another chest x-ray.

This has been a long weekend. For us and for Griffin.

A change of pace

2009-10-14T05:13:00.000-05:00

I'm not talking about writing today. No writing. No NaNo. I'm not even going to write about Griffin (total shocker, right?).

I ask that anyone who reads this blog please check out the following journal written by my sister's neighbor. Bill is a 20-year old college student who has been in intensive care for almost two months waiting for a heart and kidney transplant. Donate Life Illinois approached him and asked if he would share his story as he awaits his transplant. He just wrote his first entry.

He and his family have been through a lot, not just during the past two months, but for the past 20 years.

I hope you take the time to read his story.

19 days and counting

2009-10-12T06:18:00.000-05:00

There are only 19 more days before November 1st and the start of NaNoWriMo. I've got a lot to do to prepare to actually start writing. I've been perusing the forums on the NaNo web site and saw that another first-timer asked how others prepare for this challenge. Of course there are those few people who jump into this with nothing more than a fleeting thought of a plot. Then there are those who do major planning and outlining and pretty much all they need to do is connect the dots in their outlines and they've got the 175-page novel done. I fall into the middle - those who cannot fly by the seat of their pants, but who find an overly detailed outline too constricting.

So what to do? I actually found out that the process I've been using over the past few months (I told you I was slowly working on my story) would probably suit someone who needs some direction so they don't get lost when the pressure is on. The solution? A simple pack of notecards and some time to brainstorm.

So as not to bore everyone, here's what I still need to get done in the next 19 days:

Settle on/name a few more minor characters.

Determine goal/motivation/conflict for three main characters

Finish brainstorming plot points.

Get the plot points in some sort of order.

Fill in the gaps a bit.

More research - possibly on settings and occupations.

This sounds like a lot...and I think it is, but I hope to get stuff done during my lunch break. Patrick asked me if outlining was going against the whole "getting it all out on paper" idea, but I don't think it is (by the way, outlining is OK by the NaNo rules - starting to write before November 1st is not). I know what kind of person/writer I am. I need some sort of direction or I'll freeze under the pressure of the 30 day deadline. If I don't even have an idea of where the story is going, I could sit for hours or even days wondering what should happen, losing precious writing time. That doesn't mean that I have every little detail figured out. It just means that I have thought about what events lead my characters to do certain things. I've thought about what kinds of situations they might face. It might all change when I sit down to write, but for now, there's a semi-plan in place. I would never want everything figured out because that would take all the fun out of writing. Sitting down to write this story is like taking a little adventure with the characters (and with that sentence, I now fully realize how big of a writing dork I really am).

The night the lights went out in Iowa

2009-10-08T04:28:00.000-05:00

Griffin is obsessed with lamps. OBSESSED. There's no easier way to describe it. He follows us around the house, points to an unlit lamp and says something that sounds like, "Pree! Pree! Pree!" We think he's trying to say "Pretty" because this is what my in-laws used to call all the things in their house that he shouldn't touch - "pretties." {Note to self: Need to nip that one in the bud before he really gets confused}.

So we turn the lamp on and say, "Lights on!" and then turn it off and say, "Lights off!" We have a lot of lamps in our house. A lot. You can tell when Griffin has been in a room because every single lamp is on. Why appease him, you ask? It's no big deal. We talk to him as we do it, so hopefully he's learning some language along the way. Besides, sometimes when I'm really exhausted, I just say no.

Our day care provider has a job chart on her wall. Take one guess what Griffin's job is? Lights Monitor. I saw that this morning and couldn't help but smile.

Embracing imperfection

2009-10-07T10:19:00.000-05:00

I think making the mental switch from "holy crap, whatever I write needs to be perfect" to "I need to purge what's in my head and reach 50,000 words" will help rid me of my incessant self-editing. That's my real problem. I've had a good (to me, at least) story idea in my mind since...January? Hey Jason, when did we last meet in DeKalb for lunch? That's when I came up with this idea. So it has been a long time and since then, I've done very little work. Some character development and few major scene ideas, but that's about it. I've been so worried that this idea would fade just like all the others, and who knows when - or even if - another idea would come along?

Here's an excerpt from the welcome e-mail I received after registering. It really spoke to me:

"Even if it’s hard at first, leave ugly prose and poorly written passages on the page to be cleaned up later. Your inner editor will be very grumpy about this, but your inner editor is a nitpicky jerk who foolishly believes that it is possible to write a brilliant first draft if you write it slowly enough. It isn’t. Every book you’ve ever loved started out as a beautifully flawed first draft. In November, embrace imperfection and see where it takes you."

Embrace imperfection. I don't think I've ever done that in my 36 years on this earth. I think it's about time I started.

Stop looking at me like I'm crazy

2009-10-06T08:40:00.000-05:00

I signed up for NaNoWriMo. I needed a jumpstart. I need to stop editing in my head before anything even gets on paper (er, on screen). We'll see what happens. I start writing on November 1st.

30 days. 50,000 words. Game on.

{Ten bucks I quit by November 3rd}

We built this city on rock n' roll

2009-10-02T03:36:00.000-05:00

We finally decided on our family costume idea for this Halloween. I've been bugging Patrick about it for weeks - it's his turn to choose - since we like to give ourselves as much time as possible to make our costumes. So this year's theme is:

80's Rock Band

Yes, this will include Griffin. I'm really excited because I love a good theme like this. Some other ideas we tossed around include: The Village People (Patrick and I thought this was great, but just couldn't do that to a 13-year old Duncan), Scooby Doo, Willy Wonka, Chicago sports teams.

I like 80's Rock Band because it involves big, bad hair and the possibility of acid washed denim. Rock on!