Congestion

Can a upper respiratory illness cause writers block?

I am home sick today. Fuzzy bathrobe snug around me, hot tea with honey and lemon cooling... I thought "What a perfect time to catch up on my blogging."

But what to write about?

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Being sick? God, no one wants to read about that.

Kids? Nate did start a new school yesterday and because they teach Spanish there he keeps asking me when we can go on vacation to Mexico, convinced he'll be fluent after a week I imagine. Jenna has a complicated friendship with three little girls that is causing her equal joy and frustration.

I could use my experiences with both of them to write an article. How to transition a little one into a new school in a healthy way, as it worked well for us. Or write a piece on the dynamics of friendships that carry over from childhood into our adult lives.

Somehow there are thousands of ideas and possibilities swirling around in my head, but I can't seem to formulate one of them into words that I can type.

It reminds me of driving in dowtown Dallas traffic on Monday morning. Inevitably you are going to hit traffic and it's usually caused by some city planning committee who thought it would be great to take the four lane highway and expand it to six to ease traffic - but not taking into account the length of time and resources needed to complete the improvement would include shutting the four lanes into one as the development is being done. So what you have is four lanes of traffic being merged into only one - causing traffic congestion.

That's what is happening with my head. Congestion. And I am not talking about the extensive amount of snot making my nasal passages throb. I am talking about a congestion of words and thoughts and ideas... they are there in my head and all of them want out at once.

But where to start?

I can't just hold a tissue to it and "blow" the way we direct toddlers to do when they haven't figured out how to do so yet.

Or can I?

A friend once told me that writers don't get "blocked"... they get lazy and scared. A real writer never stops writing... even if the topic is overdone or mundane. Just do it. (thanks Nike for the most recognized tag line of my generation). JUST. DO. IT.

So instead of staring at the computer screen and being too scared to write... being too lazy to start... I have one new year's resolution for 2009. To rid myself of the congestion of ideas by writing about them everyday. Just stick my hand in the pot and pick one and go with it. I might just find that with one good "blow", the words will come flowing again.

Dear Santa - mom needs a new job...

I was cleaning out her backpack this morning and found this letter, addressed to Mr. C. (Santa Claus). I will let you attempt to read it first and then translate it in a second...




LMAO

Here is the translation:

Dear Mr C - I hope that I am on the nice list. I would love that. I would be
good. P.S. Jenna P.P.S. So will you put me on the nice list? And Mr. C, I love
you. Oh and I hope that you love this letter. Oh and Mr. C, will you let my mom
be a elf working at your work? Cause I would love that. From Jenna to You.

Now I am not sure if this is because she thinks Santa needs some more effective marketing and I am just the person to do it, or she just hopes that me being an elf working there will score her some better Christmas presents. LOL.

Say Cheese

We grew up in front of the camera, so it's no wonder we now choose to stand behind it. Me and my sisters are obsessed with taking pictures. I think we have literally documented every major, and not so major, moment of our lives, since the point our parents bought us our first very own 35mm camera (actually I think mine was a 110, do they even make those anymore? What about Advantix... whatever happened to those? Ha).

But I digress.

Picture-taking, documentation, photo albums and finally scrapbooks have encompassed so much of our memory-making, that they have not only chronicled the memories of our lives, they have become a PART of the memory-making.

Somewhere along the line it went from being a hobby to being something I could actually make some money doing (in order to pay for the outrageously expensive equipment I drool at while browsing photog sites online).

And unlike those fiercely loyal photographers, I have no loyalty to brand. I've tried Canon and Nikon, Olympus and Kodak. I have probably tried a version of every camera-making brand in the U.S. at some point. As long as it takes a crisp photo quickly... well I am happy.

So I am excited to break in my early christmas gift from my boyfriend, my Sony Alpha A-200. Already I am impressed with the quality of photos... and what better excuse to harrass my children like celebrity paparazzi, than making them help me break in the new cam.

Jenna was less than thrilled. All the rest of my photographs of her were of the back of her head or her hands in front of her face "Brittany"-style. Sigh. Better luck next time.

Nate on the other hand was a more willing participant. I will spare you the extreme closeups of the taco meat from dinner hanging out of his mouth while he cheesed it up for me... and instead give you the most gorgeous blue eyes I've ever seen (apologies to my blue-eyed boyfriend, but he is a close second).

And then I will leave you with a shot of my boy showing off his battle wounds. He got into an altercation with the swing at school. He swears the swing looks worse, but I am not so sure.

In Memory of my favorite Veteran...

He was 19 and had just finished his third year of service in the Navy (thanks to the fact that he illegally enlisted at the age of 16 by lying and saying he was 18). Mature beyond his years, he was devilishly handsome. He had the same color eyes as Frank Sinatra and the same charming smile. Dressed in his uniform, he was quite the sight for most young girls.

As he walked into the party with a buddy in tow, he scanned the room for anyone he knew. He always did this. Looking for a familiar face to ease his initial shyness in a new setting. His eyes landed on her. As his heart did a jump and he caught his breath, his hand involuntarily grasped his buddie's arm as he stopped in his shiny shoes.

"What?" his friend said, looking at him quizically.

"That's her." replied the young sailor.

"Who?"

"The woman I am going to marry."

"Do you know her?"

"Not yet," he replied with a sly smile on his face, feeling his pulse even out again and the color return to his face.

She was 16. Never been kissed, just as the saying goes. Wavy brown hair with natural streaks of blond, ice blue eyes and skin as pure as porceline, she was certainly a vision of fragile beauty. This was her first party her parents had let her attend without them. She was wearing her best party dress and had fussed over her hair for nearly two hours. However, all she had done since arriving was stand in the corner and giggled with her girlfriends from school. She had been sheltered most of her life, which had left her painfully shy in social situations like this.

She felt his eyes on her before she saw him. When she looked up, he was in front of her with his hand out and a warm smile on his face. While she looked into his warm and sparkling eyes, feeling the laughter within them, he introduced himself. She looked down quickly, her face flushing. She mumbled her name to him and then quickly glanced up again. He was definitely laughing at her, barely concealing it. If she wasn't so embarrassed, she would be angry. At herself or at him, she wasn't sure.

She decided she wouldn't stand there and be mocked, so she turned and excused herself to the powder room. Her skirt twirled around her legs as she spun away and wiped the smile from his face. He had never longed for someone so much in his life. How could a perfect stranger make his heart beat so wildly? He fought the urge to run after her and pull her into his arms.

Is this what they meant by "love at first sight?"

He could certainly believe it.

She found herself breathing heavily and flushed looking at herself in the bathroom mirror. Who was this boy? Or should she say, Who was this MAN? He was different from the other boys she knew, that took only one look to know. He felt wildly out of her league, barely out of childhood herself. But there was something strangely magnetic about him. Something that made her want to run into his arms and lay her head on his chest to breath in his scent.

What a shocking thought! Her mother would be appalled knowing such things were going through her head. But she couldn't help it. From the minute she looked into those deep blue eyes, she wanted to drown in them. That's why she had to run away. She never felt anything like that before. It was involuntary impulse and she was afraid to leave the bathroom in case she saw him again and was unable to control herself. What kind of fool would she look if she were to do the things running through her mind?

Her breathing leveled out and she decided she better rejoin the party. She slowly opened the door and as soon as she did she saw him standing there. She caught her breath, suprised. He was leaning casually against the wall waiting for her, his legs crossed and a cigarette in his mouth. Upon seeing her, he put the cigarette out on a nearby table and swiftly went to her and pushed her into the bathroom and shut the door, before she had a chance to protest or for anyone to see them.

Once she caught her breath, she slapped him. Eyes wide, he grabbed her arm and lifted the palm of her hand to his lips and kissed it. Her heart skipped a beat at the feel of his soft lips on her skin. No one had ever kissed her in such a way, and she felt tingles from that spot run through the rest of her body and her knees went weak.

They stood there for what seemed forever just staring at each other, no words exchanged. Slowly his arm wrapped around her waist until he had her pulled against him. She didn't protest this time. Just kept staring at him.

He put his other hand on her face and said "I have to see you again. Will you have dinner with me tomorrow night?" She slowly nodded her head in agreement. He kissed her forehead and let her go and walked out of the bathroom.

She let her knees go weak and sat on the toilet to let her heart slow to a decent pace, her hand on her heart. She didn't know who he was, but she knew she had to see him again.

Somewhere deep inside of her she knew that he was the missing part of her and that she would love him for the rest of her life. And at that same moment, he was walking home with his buddy, telling him the same exact thing.

It was 1957, by the end of the year they would be married and by 1960 she would be pregnant with their third child, my stepdad Don. A beautiful love story told to me since I was a child by my "Uncle Marvin" who lost the love of his life when she was only 29 to Emphazima. She left 4 children and a legendary love to the man that swept her off her feet. Not a day went by that he didn't miss or love her. And it was this story that made me believe in love at first sight and soulmates.

He was the glue of our family and was always the one to keep the conflicts to a minimum and to mend broken bridges that happen in a family as large as ours. He believed in our country and fighting to keep it free. He worshipped God and second only to that was John Wayne. He treated his wife like a treasure that God gave him. And he was quick to discipline his children, but they also knew that his pride for them ran deep and true. And even though I wasn't "blood" related, I never felt it because he loved me as much as any of his other grandkids. And I loved him like a grandfather.

Marvin passed away a couple years ago and I know that he and his child bride are in heaven now with two of thier four children that have already passed on as well. I feel them here watching over us and I thank God that their love blessed so many lives, including mine.

Rest in peace Uncle Marvin... your blue eyes are always sparkling in my memories.

In the midst of the storm

All around me familes are struggling financially... parents deal with increasing guilt over their parenting in the age of ADHD, Autism, Teen Violence and Prenancies... employers are trying to decide how to report profits but still pay for employee healthcare and benefits... and homeowners are struggling not only to pay their mortgages, but increasing fuel and energy costs, homeowners association fees, and grocery costs that have nearly doubled in the last few years.

Some nights I can't go to sleep with worry plaguing my every thought and emotion. How am I going to pay rent - I am already 2 weeks behind? How do I afford to move to a better neighborhood to get access to a better school for Jenna and Nate? Is my ex's emotional instability affecting their lives in a negative way, or will they be resilient enough to get through it? Will Nate grow out of his ADHD or will he forever have to maintain a strict diet and take supplements and maybe someday stimulants to have a "normal" life? How do I protect their innocence in a world of violent video games and sexual-explicit media and T.V.? And how do I balance being a good mom, a good employee, a good friend and a good sister/daughter... and yet stay true to myself and my own needs and desires as well?

I know I am not alone. Our country is going through a transition period like we have never known. We have spent decades being wasteful and self-absorbed... and now we are paying the price econimically, eviromentally, and morally. There isn't one person that our current economy isn't affecting... it's pretty much across the board and trickling into our education systems, our religious foundations and our families. It is touching us on EVERY level.

No wonder so many people in America are on SSRI's (anti-anxiety meds) these days. I am one of them... and even with my daily dose, struggle with constant anxiety about my life and my children and my career. But I am learning to simplify and try and focus on the positive.

In the midst of all of this, we have been focusing on our time as a family. Watching our attitude towards each other and people around us. The kids and I talk about how we should focus on our blessings and the wonderful life God has given us, instead of what we don't have and comparing ourselves to others. It's really working. I see a difference in my attitude and in the children. We have more smiles lately and less frustration. Life is fun, if you can focus on the joy all around you.... and joy is infectious. Smile and laugh through life and watch how others begin to do the same.