On Being, and Growing...

"I'm Hans Christian Andersen
My pen's like a babbling brook
Permit me to show you, dear sir
My very latest book
Now here's a tale of a simple fool
Just glance at a page or two
You'll laugh ha, ha but you'll blush a bit
For you realize as you're reading it
That it's also reading you
I'm Hans Christian Andersen, Andersen, that's who!" 

 The above verse is from the Danny Kaye Hans Christian Andersen Musical. Not many people have heard of it, fewer have actually watched it.

It is spectacular.

If you will look here and here, you will see that over the last few years, the question of "what I am going to be when I grow up" has been plaguing me. I have known for some time, that once my kids were otherwise occupied (school) I would not be willing to stay at home, twiddling my thumbs... (or even worse, doing housework!) just waiting for them to be finished every day. I do not, at the moment, feel called to homeschool my children. They love the school they attend and so do I...so what would I do? I have looked into finishing college, and to be sure that is still an option. But I have often felt there was more.

About a year ago I started jotting down some story ideas that have been tumbling about in my mind. I have, currently, 4 children's book ideas started. I have gotten excellent feedback from the few people I have read the ideas to - of course I am also well aware that these people are biased and not at all experts in this field - but they have been encouraging all the same.

This has certainly been a year of change for our family. Kids are older, I no longer have a baby in the house and most nights I can boast a full 7-8 hours of sleep. My wonderful husband got a new job last April and now has the freedom of working from home. I have battled some health challenges and got a test result just today that was very good, I am within the realm of "normal" now as far as thyroid levels are concerned. So wonderful to see! I have also learned now to cope better, just on my own from day to day. Though it very often still is a day to day process.
 
 A month or so ago, we were blessed with my husband getting an unexpected raise at work. As we were getting ready for bed that night, he shocked me with his idea of what he wanted us to do with the extra money.

A little back story:  I had put Kaylee's name on the waiting list for the best preschool in town (both my older girls attended there) right after she was born to insure her enrollment. I was, however, sad to discover they no longer accepted kids for only one morning a week (all I was planning on doing since she is just barely 2). Instead, they required 2, 3 or 5 mornings. Sadly, we simply couldn't afford 2 mornings per week, and so I had made up my mind to call and take her off the list - I just hadn't gotten around to it yet.

So as we were brushing our teeth that night, my wonderful husband surprised me by saying: "I want you to go ahead and put Kaylee in school the 2 mornings a week, with one condition. You have to use that free time every week, to write." It took me a second to answer, my mind started swimming. "I can do that." Was about as intelligent a response as I could muster. Of course, he also added that as soon as my books had sold and were making as much as Harry Potter books, then he could retire and I would support him.

No pressure...

But all that to say, I honestly feel - for the very first time in my life, that I know what I want to be when I grow up.

I want to be a writer.

You see, I have to write. I must, if I don't, something in me begins to die and I become a shell of who I should be. It has been a process learning this. I would get more and more sour in life, grumpy and argumentative and not really understand why. My husband has now learned that when that happens, the best course of action is to hand me a cup of tea and banish me into my room all alone (or as he did today, send me off to a coffee shop, laptop in hand and tell me to stay out as long as I needed). There I can sit and become myself again, by pouring all the words out of my head and onto a page. There I can look them square in the face, then I can breath. But I cannot simply write, someone must read what I write. I need to know that someone, somewhere is reading my work. That is what gives my words life. Without you, my dear, beloved reader, these are but letters on a page. With an audience, they become real, they become alive. And I can be freed to become myself again.

I will start with the 4 children's books I have started. I plan on going through a publishing company right now, I want to be taken seriously - but I will also be researching the self publishing route to see what holds the best opportunities. 

As Mr. Carpenter told the young and reckless Emily of New Moon: "Ten good lines out of four hundred, Emily—comparatively good, that is—and all the rest balderdash—balderdash, Emily.... If at thirteen you can write ten good lines, at twenty you'll write ten times ten—if the gods are kind. Stop messing over months, though—and don't imagine you're a genius, either, if you have written ten decent lines. I think there's something trying to speak through you—but you'll have to make yourself a fit instrument for it. You've got to work hard and sacrifice—by gad, girl, you've chosen a jealous goddess. And she never lets her votaries go—not even when she shuts her ears forever to their plea.”

A jealous goddess to be sure. I know I have mountains of work, blood, sweat and tears ahead of me. But I feel up to the challenge. 

I thank all of you for encouraging me to start this process, Especially my truly remarkable and always 100% supportive husband. Without his encouragement, I may never have thought this as any more than a hobby and a passing fancy. I will not pretend that I am not scared - I know there will be many hurdles along the way.  But I am also very excited - the idea of people from all over getting to read what I write is positively thrilling.

This is where I ask for help from you, my dear readers. I will need a team of sorts - editors to be sure! For we all know that while I may be able to write something interesting to read...there is a very good chance no one will be able to read it due to it being riddled with spelling and grammar errors. I need resources, words of experience from those that have started (and especially finished) this road themselves. I am merely starting out, I know I have lots and lots of growing to do, hours of research in front of me and many dead end roads, scraps, bumps and bruises ahead. But perhaps most of all, I need a group of people willing to read and give honest opinions - be fair warned, I will likely require signed documents/non-dis-closer agreements of sorts. I will be going about this is officially/legally as I can. Advice on that front is appreciated as well!  But I will need feedback as I work - or I will get burned out. And my wonderful husband, amazing as he is, is not a reader. I need feedback - good and bad, from those that love to read. Please send me a private message on Facebook if you are interested in being a part of my team.  I will likely set up an email account specifically for my book related ventures - but have not gotten that far as of yet. It is all just starting after all.

And so the adventure begins! I am truly excited. I think I need to read the Emily books again, for it is she I feel a true kinship with lately. Perhaps because I feel like a child, just starting out on this life adventure. I leave you with her thoughts:

 “Tell me this--if you knew you would be poor as a church mouse all your life--if you knew you'd never have a line published--would you still go on writing--would you?'
'Of course I would,' said Emily disdainfully. 'Why, I have to write--I can't help it at times--I've just got to.”
― L.M. Montgomery, Emily of New Moon

My Ship, My Tattoo

Not just the Spanish Main, love. The entire ocean. The entire wo'ld. Wherever we want to go, we'll go. That's what a ship is, you know. It's not just a keel and a hull and a deck and sails, that's what a ship needs but what a ship is... what the Black Pearl really is... is freedom.  - Jack Sparrow

This journey started when I was a teenager - but instead of going through all that again, just read this:   

Ever since I was a child, I have gotten a thrill when I see a ship, a large one. I have been on boats before, small sail boats - not really meant to hold more then 10-12 people (that is the closest I have come to being on a true sailing ship) and I felt completely at home on them. I don't get sea sick, I love the sun, I have a terrible sense of balance on dry land, so why not add the shifting of waves to it all! Being on a boat, on the ocean, it fills me with a sense of calm, of freedom, adventure, peace and wild joy. It fills me with a sense of home.

At 30 years old I started researching. I had, by that time settled on a ship. I knew I wanted my kids names on there somehow, but had not figured out how yet. Then one day after a trip to the library I was reading my children a story with beautiful illustrations and actually stopped reading in order to just sit and look at a picture. The book is called The Great Kettles: A Tale of Time and I am excited at the moment because I just spent 15 minutes online, tracking it down and I found it! And now I may have to buy it because I remember liking the book and I feel it deserves to live in my house. So here is the picture I first saw:

I snapped a photo of it with my phone and sent it to my sister so she could draw it up for me, with a few changes of course. This is what she created:

 

I loved it, and immediately started researching artists.  It took me close to a year to find an artist I truly loved. I wanted a clean style, creativity (I wanted the artist to use the base drawing and make the picture his own, without losing the magic of it) I wanted it to have a bit of a sketch feel, almost like a slate or even charcoal drawing, be done completely in black ink and be a good size so it took up a large portion of my upper back. I chose to put my girls initials on the flag and to make the "pirate" aspect of it more subtle, no blatant flag. 

So I had the drawing, I had my ideas - all that was left was to make the appointment and get the tattoo...and I started getting a little scared. I knew I could handle pain, after all, I have had three children with no medication. I can handle pain! But actually paying someone to do that to me went against my human nature. So I decided to go back a few steps and start a little smaller.

I love 3 children's books so completely and utterly that it brings me to tears and laughter, (often at the same time) to read them. Those three books are Winnie the Pooh, as is demonstrated by this blog. Peter Pan, as those that know me know WELL. And Alice's Adventures in Wonderland (as well as Through the Looking Glass).  One of my most well loved quotes from Alice is her simple statement of "Curiouser and Curiouser!" It makes me laugh every time. Here her world is falling entirely apart, the most bizzar creatures are popping up left and right and her reaction is a simple "Huh, now isn't that odd!" No fear, no panic, just "Curiouser and Curiouser!" I want that attitude in life. I want to look disaster in the face and shake my head and laugh. I want all my steps in life to be as bold as Alice. So I started small:

Not the most flattering angle for a foot I know, but I wanted to get all of the words in the picture. 

After that tattoo was done, I started to get excited for the next one. I had handled the pain just fine. (Aside from an almost fainting spell that I am saying was a lack of lunch that day...once I ate something I was just fine. I did not faint, no matter what the tattoo artist may tell you!) I gave them my picture, we talked through it all and made our appointments.

I wish I had gotten some pictures of the sketches the artist did as we decided on the final picture, it took some time to get it where I wanted - but finally we got started! By that time I was technically 31, but no one is really counting right?

The beginning sketch:

 The only issue I had with getting the tattoo where I couldn't see it, is not being able to watch and know when the pain would start. You just hear the buzzing of the needle and you know it will come, but you don't know exactly when! The first sesson took four hours. One hour to finalize the design and prep, and 3 hours for the first phase of the tattoo:

 

I was very pleased with how it was turning out. He had changed it to look a little more like a real ship, and less like a children's book illustration. Which was good, I wanted it to be all it's own and not just copied. About a month and a half went by between sessions, and I finally got it finished this last weekend! The second session took another 3 hours, but was well worth it in the end.

My finished Pirate Ship Tattoo!

 I am VERY well pleased with the final product. It is exactly what I had in mind, and it is now very fun to look back on the journey and be nothing but proud. As you can see, I couldn't resist adding the "Second star to the right" so Peter Pan is represented.   

As of right now, I do not plan on getting any more tattoo's. Though I hear they are highly addictive and almost no one stops at two. So we shall see - I have been asked several times WHY on earth I would ever want a tattoo - and perhaps that is a post for another time. But I think it is simply a part of my story. I have always wanted it, and in a weird sort of way it makes me feel more complete. Like I have been walking around without hair for most of my life and I finally realized what I was missing.

We, as humans all have a story. We all dress/talk/behave in a way that broadcasts our stories in one way, shape or form. There is a part of us that we want known, that we need understood right away.

Some people tell their story by wearing loud jewelry, or fancy shoes. Trendy clothes or a cute, styled hair-cut can answer a lot of questions about a person in seconds flat. It shows what they value, what they want to represent. Who they want to be.

Some people you will never, not in a million years, ever see without make-up and/or hair done. That is the part of their story they want seen. Perhaps it is protection against fear of rejection or a shield against getting too close, too real. Either way, it answers questions in seconds. It helps life to be a little bit easier.

Some people always have dirt under their fingernails, paint on their arms, glue on their hands or oil and grease on their clothes. That is their delight, that is how they wear their stories. You know a part of who they are instantly without ever having to ask. Before they even begin to speak.

For those of you that know me, you know I don't do things half way. I am not always an easy person to be around. I have faults, I have scars. I am rough around the edges. I rarely say what is right or proper in any given situation, but I am loyal and will fight for what I believe in. I have an unquenchable sense of laughter, adventure and more then a little bit of stubbornness. I am a writer, I am a storyteller. I am a wife and mother. I am a rebel, I am pirate, just ask my kids. I am a sailor, and now I have a ship!

This is my story. I am proud of my story. The process of getting to where I am now often hurt, it was rarely easy and I don't expect it ever really will be. But the story is MINE. And there is joy in the journey.

This - life, stories. This is my art.

My Superhero

“If you could only sense how important you are to the lives of those you meet; how important you can be to the people you may never even dream of. There is something of yourself that you leave at every meeting with another person.”
― Fred Rogers

I have been watching people a lot lately. As most of you know, I love watching people, perhaps even more so than anything else in this world. People are amazing, truly amazing. So unique, so REAL, they have so many levels, intentions, so much to give, and they need so much. Things that are palpable as well as metaphysical.  And those needs, can change at the drop of a hat. So it never gets boring!


I had the privilege of sitting in on the selection process of a jury recently (first time I had ever actually been called in). I say 'sitting in on,' because I was in the second group and never brought foreword because they filled the box before I was given the opportunity to answer any questions. But I got to watch and listen, so that if needed, I could come foreword and fill a seat. I LOVED it! Here everyone had told me how boring it was and all the ways they thought best to get out of it. (Isn't that what you do when you have jury duty? Try to get out of it? I had in my head this miserable process, because everyone constantly just wants out of it!)


But no, it was fascinating! I got to hear about peoples lives, what they did for a living. Their kids, what they loved, what made them angry. What they considered important enough to change their view of justice, right and wrong - what helped to keep them un-biased and what lines they drew as far as prejudice was concerned. Fascinating!

I have been working hard to change my attitude about people lately.  I find that I have been very focused of late on all the ways I feel that people regularly let me down. My last few posts have been a perfect example of that. I can get overwhelmed by the sheer volume of brokenness that it makes me want to give up hope. "Why bother!? Eventually they will let their humanness shine though - or they will see mine which is even worse. Eventually they will break a promise, say sometime offensive or take something I say in the wrong way and then it will take energy that I do not have to spare. Better to hide in my house, see only a select few people marked 'safe' in my book and shut the rest of the world away." But as much as I would like to give in to my reclusive nature, when it comes down to it, I need people. I need people a lot. So that means I need to see the good, or at the very least - I need to not focus on the bad.

I love watching people, I love seeing what is different and unique. I try hard not to judge styles and choices (unless it personally hurts someone else) but I have very little energy. So while I love seeing people be themselves, if it takes energy to be with someone, I will avoid it. Because my kids come first. They need my best, I can't waste energy. I feel like a wimp, truly.  Because I know some truly super moms that have physical struggles FAR surpassing my own.

I have a dear friend with the cutest 4 year old little boy, and she has dealt with physical hardships for her whole life, and she is amazing! She doesn't pretend it is easy, but in the midst of daily pain she is a truly spectacular mom to that baby boy. She laughs with him, she shows him off. She asks questions and finds what will work best. She takes life head-on, even in the midst of all kinds of struggles - she sees the beauty and the art in pain. She has such a heart for all those around her and creativity and passion flow from her unabridged, leaking into the world around her. That boy is so very lucky he has her as his mom. She makes me want to create something beautiful, because she is beauty and creativity - even when the pain makes it hard to move. She is so very beautiful. She inspires me so very much. I talk to her and I get so excited about life, about art. She is my superhero.

Me? My thyroid is a little low (tsh was at 35, even while on medication, last it was checked, for those that know what the numbers mean - so I have to go through the process of balancing medication again). So I'm tired. All the time. But really, that means nothing. I have it easy, oh so easy! I can get to the point sometimes where I feel so sorry for myself. I shouldn't. I have no right. I think that is the time when I need a good knock on the head or a slap in the face. I have it easy! 


I love watching people.

I got to hang out with a lovely friend today, one I don't get to see very often. She has 5 beautiful children and she is so encouraging. She makes me want to be a better mom. She speaks so openly about her struggles and triumphs as a parent and her home is so surrounded in love and warmth. As we were leaving today my Ayla says "Mama, I wish I could live here." She knows! Even a 5 year old knows a happy and healthy home, without even knowing why. Not to say ours is not happy,  I know Ayla just loves playing with her friend and she has no intention of moving out of my house. What kid doesn't dream of getting to live in the same house as a fun friend. But she recognized pure joy in a home, and she loved every minute of her time there. Sure parenting is hard, but this friend embraces the challenge instead of fighting against it. How easy it can be sometimes to become bitter because we are overwhelmed as moms. But she is so inspiring to me, she makes me feel honored to be a mom. Because it means I get to be counted in the same category as she. To be in her presence is to be with Joy. She is my superhero.


People are amazing!


My sister in law went through years of yearning for a child. God said wait. Now I have a wonderful nephew, who is no relation to her or my brother in law by blood - but there is no question in our minds that he is their baby boy. Sure there are challenges that come with adopting an older child. There is pain, there is grief, there is struggle. There is so much learning, but oh he is such an amazing kid! She was made to be his mom. To care for imaginary injuries, to give hugs and answer millions of questions. To get dizzy watching him zoom from room to room, to laugh at the crazy things he says. To make up for the years where he hadn't found her yet by giving lots of lots of cuddles NOW. To show off his spectacular skills and enjoy rare quiet moments of rest. It has been, and continues to be so inspiring to watch their journey. And she is so spectacular! She is so good at playing with that kid - whether it is throwing a ball for hours, going on bike rides or playing candyland 12 times in a row. She makes me want to be a better mom. I laugh at her stories, and feel such motivation to just get down and dirty playing with my kids. To see a family learn and grow together, when they started out as strangers. Sure it is not easy. But it is so right! Like the pieces of a puzzle. Sure they don't look alike (though I think he has my elbows) But they are so very right for each other! She is my superhero.  


People are works of art.


I knew several moms of special needs kids. Wow. Just, wow. There are no words for how amazing you are. I want to give you a medal, bake you a cake. Throw you a party! I want to clean your house for you, cook all your meals for a year, give you a day at the spa - or even better I want to watch your kids so that you can go to the bathroom all alone for a whole entire day!  I want to give you a hug and tell you that you are doing an amazing job. Because you are. Every single one of you. You love those kids so very very much. I can see it. Sure you are tired, probably way more tired then me! Yes you are overwhelmed. The everyday things you struggle with are magnificent. The things I take for granted that you strive towards so hard...I have no words. All I can say is that you are my superheroes. I am in tears because I want so much for you to know, you are SUPERHEROES. Every one of you. And I see how hard you work because you love your babies so very very much. I know there are tears, I know there is grief, I know there is much frustration. But it is paying off. Every drop of sweat, every tear. You are superheroes.


People are spectacular.


I know many single moms. Being both mom and dad, working to make a living and coming home to a house that won't tend itself. Growing and raising strong kids all on your own, without a break. Without a chance sometimes to even breath. I see you, you are doing such an amazing job with those kids, they are flourishing. You are my superheroes.


People are resilient.


I know so many moms that have to do it alone for 6-12 months at a time, working more than overtime so their husbands can be out defending our freedom. I see you. You are spectacular! You inspire me, you are truly my superheroes. 


People are magnificent.


Mom's with empty arms. Whether the desire was there, but never full-filled or whether your arms were full - but only for a moment. I see you. I have not forgotten you. I want to hold your hand, look into your face and let you know that I remember you. I remember your little ones. I see the sorrow, the joy, the grief. I don't fully understand it, but I remember and I see you. I know that even though others forget, and move on - that you still think about your babies all the time. And that is good. It means you are a mom. You are still looking out for them, no matter where they are. You inspire me so much. So much. You are my superheroes. Don't ever forget that. You are superheroes.


People are broken. We are human. We are faulty. But we are superheroes. All of us. There is art in the sorrow. There is joy in the journey. There is peace in the storm. We are superheroes.

I'll end with a quote from the Doctor - come on, was bound to happen eventually!

 "You know that in nine hundred years of time and space and I've never met anybody who wasn't important before.”

You, are important. You are inspiring. You are a superhero.