Take More Chances

This week featured some impressive, independent moments in my little daredevil's baby's world.

1. She's no longer afraid of small dogs.  She's never been afraid of dogs the size of a small pony (short of them barking directly in her face).  She loves Great Danes. But the adorable collection of neighborhood beagles and dachshunds used to make her cringe.  Now, she toddles toward them at ramming speed--with open arms.
2. More importantly, she now puts Legos together AND takes them apart. That may not seem particularly daring, except that then there's #3:
3. She now climbs onto the couch.
4. And she finds bellyflopping off the couch into a pile of said Legos hilarious.  She laughed like she'd just gone crowd-surfing at a metal concert instead of dive-bombing a pile of pokey-cornered plastic.  (Mommy, meanwhile, was prone on the floor courtesy of the resulting heart attack.)

That's no pile of leaves, Little!

As I watched her prepare to leap again this morning, her injection of daring-do reminded me of a very important lesson: Sometimes that leap is necessary.

Will it hurt to take the chance?  Probably, but some risk and occasionally painful mistakes is necessary--even for adults.  When our nature is to be stubborn and independent, learning from our personal experiences is far more impactful than having someone tell us "No!" coupled with a desperate arm-flail.  Sometimes we learn that we CAN do things that no one else believes we can--and that we enjoy it.

It doesn't have to be a big leap.  It can be an adventurous hop.  Like trying out hazelnut creamer in your coffee instead of vanilla.  But high-diving into a bucket moments can be pretty awesome too, like facing down a fear of snakes by walking past the one in the middle of the sidewalk, head high, rather than taking off like the Roadrunner in a puff of dust. (Some folks I love did that very thing this weekend.  Twice.  Fistbumps all around!)

I think this week I shall send out a round of queries.

What about you?  Any leaping-off-the-couch moments in store for you this week?

Mother's Day Do-Over?

Mother's Day at our house began at about 1 in the morning, with a few hours of writing time and a brief nap.  From there, it...devolved.

1. On my second waking (at 5 AM), I found myself elbowdeep in...an art project. Involving a diaper and multiple painted surfaces.  Yay me!
2. DD (darling daughter) eats half a banana for breakfast. And...that's all.  I caught a quick jolt of writing time while DH (dearest hubby) cleaned her up and packed her baby bag.
3. Photo shoot at the photography studio, thanks to an awesome Mother's Day gift from Grammie! We get one round of fabulous smiles from our camera-obsessed little girl, and then DD decides simultaneously that: 
• cameras are no longer interesting (what??) 
• the photographer's voice is annoying (we were with her on that)
• all photography props should be destroyed (except the frog, which annoying-voice-camera-person wouldn't share)
• it's better to run wild than sit (camera person kept posing her way before ready to take the picture,  and yeah...toddlers like motion)
• and wow! food is a totally new thing which she's never seen nor consumed in her life (oh, NOW you want breakfast?)
4. DH then walks DD outside--with food--while photographer proceeds to play used car salesman with the pictures and insists I can't get the pictures I want because, and I quote: "Oh, but that one's not as cute as this one".  I avoid prison time by switching places with the DH, because I no longer care what we end up with--I just want to spend the rest of the day watching DD play with animals at the zoo.
5. Rain. Not a small amount, either. Ha! So much for zoo.
6. It's for the best though, because DD decides to be cuddly and fussy the rest of the afternoon.
7. And then to skip her nap.
8. But it's okay! DH declares he can handle playing for a bit so mommy can grab a nap, since she...Hadn't. Made. Coffee. (total fail)  After a quick nap, she can even write on the compy for the rest of the afternoon!
9. Except 10 minutes after pulling the covers over my head, we lose power. In the middle of Blue's Clues.  
10. At this point DH, who is totally helpless and exhausted in the face of (under 20 minutes alone with) a needy toddler, gives up. I send him to grab a nap for himself while I play the "read DD a book or 7 by flashlight" game in the nursery.
11. After 5 more hours of clingy cuddling (and no writing time) DD finally passes out.  DH declares he's not going to make the requested special Mother's Day dinner because the day has wiped him out, BUT he'll go grab ice cream for us.
12. 45 minutes later, and then about every 45 minutes until midnight, DD wakes up crying and needing uber cuddles.  Not because she doesn't feel good, but because the correct stuffed animal in the crib--was in the wrong spot?

Seahorse is in wrong spot, Mommy!

 Yet amid the mayhem:  Goodness.

I spent the day with the two most important people in my life.  The power came back faster than expected, everything was working when it did (there was a massive power surge, so there was an expectation that every small appliance in the kitchen would blow up--but lo and behold:  I HAVE COFFEE!), Grammie paid for pics and DH ran out for emergency mint chocolate ice cream in the eleventh hour.  And wow.  I don't think I've ever felt more needed.

You know, kind of like a Mom.

It hits home at the strangest times, doesn't it?  How lucky we are to have people who love us and need us and want to spend every minute of the day with us (to the point of missing sleep in favor of hugs!).  How blessed we are, even on those impending/self-induced baldness days, to be able to afford a little bowl of ice cream and, quite simply, smile.  :)

Hope all of my fellow mommies had fabulous Mother's Days--and that if you need a do-over on any pampering time you missed out on amid the usual chaos, the wee ones and spouses hand it over in the coming weeks!  (And hey, if you cost the mommy in your life some of her luxurious locks this past Sunday, you best be showering her with flowers and bath salts--as well as time to enjoy them, bub!  Personally, I'm holding out for a repair session for our dryer.)

Happy Tuesday!
Cera

PS: This is where Seahorse is supposed to go.

Sharing Literary Magic with the Next Generation

I'm in the process of reading Brian Jacques' "Redwall" series to the toddler. Not because I think she can understand it--at least I hope not, because Cluny the Scourge is one rude piece of rat!--but simply because I get the joy of using it as an excuse to re-read books I've fallen head-over-heels for.  (That, and she giggles when I do the voices.)

What makes a book addictive enough to spark an unrequited urge to return to those pages?  To pass on to the next generation? Is it the world?  The characters?  Crack in the ink?  

I could re-read the Acorna series by Ann McCaffery and Margaret Ball dozens of times (have, actually).  There, the vivid characters, the edge-of-your-seat drama, and cheeky humor have me begging for a return trip.  Tamara Pierce's Circle of Magic books leave me suspended in a different time and place and let me believe in the magic of possibilities (and incredible impossibilities), underdogs, and unlikely heroes, as does Cornelia Funke's Inkheart.  And while I haven't done a full re-read of Harry Potter, my youngest brother had a bit of help getting hooked on the series at an early age.  *wink*

There are strong female protagonists, both pint-sized and grown-up, wrapped into a host of these pages, and I can't wait to pass the magic on and see if my little one loves to relate and admire those characters as much as I do.

What about you?  Do you ever find yourself revisiting a good book or making plans to share them with younger generations?  What favorites do you return to time and time again? 

Saying "No" and Taking Back What's Important

When the overtime piles on, sometimes things have to give.  Like for instance, when writermommy sets a priority and a commitment to 20 hours of writing time a week, and she bends laws of physics just to get those minutes in, stopping only at the gate to sleepyville (none shall enter said -ville, for conscious-enough-to-make-coffee mommies require at least 3 hours of shut-eye, twice a night).  That's about the size of it:  since I don't have a TARDIS and am unwilling to punish myself with less sleep, social media suffers.

Unfortunately, so does my edge. Those carefully guarded hours aren't swimming in the same kind of energy I found when I was busy with dozens of things instead of just busy with work. The pages haven't flowed as well, the words haven't been as passionate, and the time just hasn't been as productive as when I was doing both yoga and cardio every day, when I was juggling work+class+pregnancy+all around drama+actual REAL down time.

I've been draining my energy in the wrong places, and the steps I've been taking to boost it aren't enough anymore.  I took back some exercise time in February, and my energy levels got a small boost. I took my family time back on the weekends. Period.  I'm not wasting another minute working extra when I should be sharing new adventures with the little one (like touching a wet cow nose!  and playing ball with the kitties!  and bubbles!  and...SAND!).  The energy drain stops here.

That's right:  I put my foot down at the day job.

After habitual overtime and so many difficulties learning how and when to cut off the clock and stop answering the 9PM emails on the days I work from home, on the days I shouldn't be working, and even on the days I'm in the office, I've finally found a cutoff point.  I'm taking my time back for myself, my family, my friends, and my characters.

(The latter can thank me by showering their writer with love and affection and perfect, infallible motivations/dialogue this evening.)

Life running by while plugged in 80hrs/wk--now 60 is cap!

With reclaimed hours at my fingertips, I've increased my exercise time.  I've started baking yummy zucchini bread and banana muffins again, and beating the hubby to the dishwasher.  I've found time for smoothies.  I'm losing weight!  I can enjoy the time I spend with my baby and my hubby, rather than fretting over whether or not this minute will be the minute I must drop everything for someone else's emergency outside of business hours.  I've made a point to visit friends once a week--real, non-coworker, non-family human contact!  And yes, I've decided to commit a few of these newfound hours to my writing career.  Not for new words.  These hours are penned in for me to rejoin the conversation and dance about in the wonderful community of writers we have around the blog sphere and the Twitterverse. I'm looking forward to encouraging my fellow wordsmiths on their own journey while I get back on course with my own.

Keep an eye out for me in the evenings on Twitter and hereabouts, because I'm back, and I've missed you guys!

Happiness is: TSO Beethoven's Last Night

What follows is a fangirly gush-fest over last night's Trans-Siberian Orchestra concert.

...You've been warned.


I spent yesterday annoying my coworkers with "OMG the TransSiberian Orchestra concert's tonight" exclamations.  The thought process behind their polite nods was clear:  What kind of loon gets THAT excited over an orchestra concert?  Well, a musician, for one.  I'm not ashamed.  :)  But TSO is a whole different animal.  I buzzed through meetings and passed folks in the hallway with a big, goofy grin on my face (PS: It's still there.), and finally at the end of the day someone asked what everyone else was thinking.

My response?  "Yeah, it's an orchestra.  With FIRE."

I think that's my TSO pitch from now on.  Followed by:  And electric guitars.  (Ooh, a pitch.  I knew I could spin this toward writing somehow.)  You know, if I'd mentioned pyrotechnics sooner, perhaps more of my coworkers would have jumped on the orchestra train.  We spent the next ten minutes trying to reach the box office to get him tickets, and they wound up with some of the best seats in the house.

Apparently, the hubby did the some convincing of his own weeks back.  His pitch?  "There's a plot: It's Beethoven's last night on Earth, and the devil makes him an offer: His soul, or his music."
(*shiver*, right?)

Our inductees weren't disappointed, either.  The instrumentalists rocked out (can't get enough of an electric violin), the vocals were equally delicious on the ears, Brian Hicks is a brilliant narrator, and the costumes were epic (we're talking tux jackets with tails, studs, chains, and zippers. I want one.).  I cried, laughed, and bounced to my feet many, many times.  I'm counting days to the narrated CD release, but nothing compares to the live show.

Thank you, TSO, for touring this one through Columbia and giving us another taste of awesome.