What I Could’ve Done

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Jul 252010
 

I wrote a book.

The magnitude of this statement is still not something my mind has wrapped itself around. Maybe it’s because it’s still too foreign of a concept.

I start a lot of things.

I rarely follow through. (Except for the pushing the baby out thing, because by that point, I really kinda didn’t have a choice.) So when I say I wrote a book, I am also saying I could have not, just was easily.

I could have let my Muse run the show, claiming diva-hood and migraines. I could have decided that why yes, I much rather would have watched Castle, Fringe, Bones, Burn Notice, Ghost Hunters, and every other show that I have ignored for the past year while writing during the only time I actually have to myself. I could have slept because really, who needs more than four hours a night? For a year. With a toddler for an alarm clock. a lot more than I have been. I could have not been as pressed for time during the day to get my housework done because it wouldn’t matter if I needed to play catch up on the laundry after Buttercup got into her little toddler bed. I could  have read more for pleasure or enjoyed a movie night or two with the zillions of never seen DVD’s I have sitting on my entertainment center. I could have concentrated too hard on the publishing stats and my chanced and just given up. I could have…I could have…I could have…

But I didn’t.

I wrote a book.

And now?

I’m going to work my ass off to get it published.

On Birthdays and New Beginnings

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Jul 242010
 

It’s July 24.

It’s a big date for me.

For one, it’s the official start and end date of my year’s Baby F(Ph)at journey. I gave myself a year to lose 40 pounds and while I didn’t make that goal, I made huge strides in changing my outlook, my eating habits, and my understanding of the importance of never putting myself last on my to-do list again. My daughter, my husband, and the responsibilities I have to my family have and always will come first. Screw the bra-burning party. It’s just the way I’m wired. But I’m happy with second place.

I’d call that a success, which is also a big mental step for me. That alone shows me that I have realized my journey doesn’t stop when I type The End on the book.

There’s another reason that July 24 is important to me. My father would have turned 53 today. His number’s still in my cell phone. I used to call it, before my sister inherited his cell, just to hear his voice. But it’s been three years since he died unexpectedly. And I think it’s taken me this long to let go. There isn’t any more lingering guilt when I feel happiness or take a hard-earned moment’s peace to just be. I didn’t realize it until a few days ago, but this entire year has been more of a growing experience than I had ever planned for it to be. I settled into a new house thousands of miles away from my family and friends and brought my mother and one of my sisters with us. Made repeated trips back to the east coast for legal matters surrounding my father’s death, which led to a legal fight with certain (former) family members because my father had died without a will. And while I was gluing my heart back together, life kept moving forward. My dog died.  More pages were written. More steps taken to a happier and healthier me. My grandfather died. Buttercup turned three. And life kept moving on. More pages were written. And more steps taken to a happier and healthier me and in spite of the PCOS, the Insulin Resistance, the hypothyroid, I lost 16 pounds as of my last count. *throws confetti*

It’s been a hell of a year. But I survived. And I’m a better person for it, I think.

Did I realize the importance of this date when I decided to start writing chapter one 365 days ago? Yes and no. Of course I realized it was his birthday, but I didn’t start my book on July 24 intentionally. It just happened. And as the year progressed, I forgot about it…until I looked at the calendar again and realized what day my year’s journey would officially end.

I wrote a book for your birthday, Dad. How’s that for a new beginning?

And a Good Time Was Had by All

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Jul 232010
 

When did I become such a stick in the mud that my sister must force me to have a good time and relax for more than five minutes?

She wanted to go for pedicures tonight, Buttercup included. Instead of jumping at a chance for some pampering because I could only focus on everything I wouldn’t have time to do if I agreed like the gym or a walk or all of the laundry or cleaning out my closet or starting to write before 1 a.m. I sulked and pouted and said fine and may as well have kicked the dirt with my toe on the way to the car. She actually offered to take Buttercup and leave me home to tackle that to-do list, but by then I’d already changed my outfit, put on some make up, and would much rather pout and go then undo it all and stay home. Besides, Buttercup was already deciding what color she would pick for our toes.

I’m sure I was a colossal bitch when we started out. And I got even bitchier when we arrived at the nail salon and they were booked solid. Pati almost looked apologetic for wasting my time. So I took a deep breath, called another salon close to home, and got us in for an appointment after we stopped for a burger for Buttercup while sipped on a glass of water.

I thought I was starting to have a good time and relax until it was my turn to sit in the massage chair and realized I had some serious tension to erase from my muscles. Maybe I needed to be dragged kicking and screaming to spend some quality time with my daughter that doesn’t include a to-do list, but Pati did me a favor tonight. I didn’t make it to the gym. I didn’t get much work done on my book. And only some of the laundry got done. But when I slipped into bed with Buttercup and asked her what her favorite part of the day was, the rest of the tension in my back melted away with her answer.

“Spending time with you, Mama. I really loved that.”

Ask Aspiring Mama

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Jul 222010
 

I’m reading an old copy of a fashion magazine and just came across an advice column question in which the writer asks the advice-giver-outer why she can’t score an agent for her book. I mean, she sends them cookies! That she baked! (Why haven’t I tried that yet?)

Um, I’m gonna go out on a limb here with this one.

1) If your just sending cookies, they might confuse you with a harmless stalker who likes to bake.

2) If you are actually including the query, I’m thinking the cookies might actually be a distraction.

“Here’s query #45 of the day and OMG! Chocolate CHIP! Who wants one?”

Which can only lead to glasses of milk to dunk the cookies in and oh nos! That query was just totally made unreadable by that spilled glass so now you have no query in the agent’s hot little hands AND they don’t even know who to send the thank-you note (for the cookies, mind you) to.

3) If your cookies suck, you are so not getting a response.

4) If they don’t, I’m thinking they are better off saved for the agent who actually signs you. Which means the query needs to go out all on its lonesome. Send the cookies after the contract has been signed. You know, so you don’t look like a harmless talker who likes to bake.

5) Unless, that is, you are writing a cookie cookbook. Then, and only then, might your cookie-sending be an acceptable form of hooking said agents.

6) Oh wait…you’re not. Please refer to #4

The Princess Make-over

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Jul 212010
 

Maybe it’s because I grew up too fast. Maybe it’s because I don’t want her to any more than she already has.

Whatever the reason, Buttercup made it to her third birthday without ever having played with more than an empty make-up case and a clean brush. She asked, of course. How could she not? Standing with me each morning and watching me apply foundation, blush, and mascara…just to go get the mail? But the answer was always “Let’s pretend…”

Things got real the morning The Husband twisted his back. We made an emergency run to our chiropractor’s office and Buttercup got to play with her three-year-old in her office (which is actually more of a play room than anything else) while Daddy got twisted and cracked back to normal.

Once, when I went to check on them, I walked in to see cheap plastic jewelry everywhere and both girls stacking bracelets on their arms. Their heads were already decked out with multiple headbands (crowns), and they had just finished applying the finishing touches on their dollar-store (Princess) make-up. I admit I had a mini heart attack and imagined myself running to the bathroom with her to wipe the blush and lip gloss off of her face before her father saw her and…and…nothing.

I closed the door behind me, leaving the girls giggling as they made believe. And then I walked into the room The Husband was being treated in, sat down, and told him I was going to buy Buttercup a make-up kit. I may have grown up too fast, but she can have her magical kingdoms, princesses, unicorns, and dreams for as long as I can help provide them.

“Let’s pretend…”

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