My eyes...my beautiful eyes.

So there I am, curled in the crook of my husband's arm, head on his chest all set for Wednesday Night, date night. Criminal Minds...I refuse to watch it alone. A few minutes later, our bedroom is stormed by a force, also known as our 10 year old daughter. It goes something like this:
"Mommy...MY EYES...they burn." I ask all the routine questions. Did you get something in them? Shampoo? Soap?
"No, I was holding Murphy (the guinea pig) and put him back in his cage, then I rubbed my eyes and now they BURN!"
"So get a cold rag and put water in them."
So she wets her hands and scoops water into her eyes. Insert blood curdling, ear piercing, the house is on fire screams. I jump up out of bed and grab a towel for Charli, and wet it with cold water. I tell Mark to go grab the eyewash out of the other bathroom medicine cabinet. I have Charli sit on our bed. Her hands are fused to her eyeballs, and she is screaming like a tween at a One Direction Concert. So I did what any other good parent would do. I told Mark to hold her down so I could put the eyewash in her eyes. Next thing I know our house has turned into the WWE. It's full blown Monday Night Raw and Friday Night Smackdown on a Wednesday. We wrestled on the bed, then somehow ended up in the living room on the couch, Charli is screaming "I can't breathe!" Dogs are hiding, pretty sure the guinea pig almost had a stroke, expecting the cops to pound on our door any second, my eardrum was on the brink of bursting, so I yelled "FINE! GO TO YOUR ROOM!" I was only trying to help but if she wanted to be stubborn, so be it. I channeled my mother and I threw the bottle of eyewash against the wall. (Yea, I know, not one of my finest Mommy moments, but this blog is real folks, so it is what it is.)
Charli is in her room crying, Mark and I are back in our room, where we attempt to resume Criminal Minds (thank the Lord for the invention of DVR). I suddenly make out what Charli is saying:
"Sweet Lord, help me." Then and this is the best part. She says "I don't wanna be blind."
You know that movie a Christmas Story? Do you remember Ralphie's little brother Randy? His whiny voice when he can't put his arms down in the snowsuit because he is bundled too tight? Well, Charli's voice sounds EXACTLY like Randy's at this point. Mark and I are horrible parents...because we are laughing. I'm not talking haha. Mark was rolling on the bed laughing. I am kegaling to beat the band, so I won't pee my pants.
Then I felt kind of bad...so we called Charli back to our room and I got her calmed down. She is saying random stuff and it's so funny because she is sitting with the rag over her eyes on my bed and she says:
"My eyes...my beautiful eyes." (Which reminds me of a commercial you know the one.)
Her eyes finally stopped burning, and miraculously her eye I got the eyewash in feels much better then the one I didn't get it into. Alas, just when we think the drama is going to die out, her FACE starts burning. So being the concerned mom that I am, I turn to her and say "Do you think it has anything to do with crying your eyes out and screaming like a raging lunatic for the past 30 minutes? Hmm? Put a cold rag on your face, Daddy will get you an ice pack, and go get in bed."
She went to bed and Mark and I laughed and laughed over her Oscar worthy performance. Oh and her eyes are fine, turns out a good cry is a great way to flush them.

Time Flies...

"Time flies"...it's so cliché. We say it often and are nonchalant about it. However, there are moments in life that you realize how true that statement is. Tomorrow my only child starts 5th grade and it boggles my mind, that this once tiny being who was a prayer I whispered for nightly against my pillow is starting her final year of elementary school. This tween whose height is even with the bump on my nose, is in fact the same little girl I sang to and rocked to sleep nearly every night until she was three years old. I am in shock that the sassy, shoe stealing, lip gloss wearing young lady, was once the little girl whose hand I let go of in a Denny's parking lot to pick up her book, the one who spilled glitter all over my kitchen, and the one who flashed the entire congregation during her preschool Christmas performance. I truly am in awe of how time flies. I realize...all that time...all those years...really are just little moments. Hundreds of little moments that have made up her young life, and the memories that live in the heart of her mother.

Tonight, on the eve of 5th grade, I will do something I haven't done since who knows when. I will pull out the storage container from her closet floor, and dig through the treasures that lay within it, and find her favorite book from when she was a toddler. I will crawl into her bed and read her a bedtime story. While she sleeps, I will make pancake batter, so when she wakes up tomorrow she can have chocolate chip pancakes made in the pan that is molded like the face of a pig. She will giggle and I will remember that the piggy shaped pancake, is reminiscent of her former obsession with pigs...an obsession that began just before her fourth birthday when I took her to see the movie Charlotte's Web. I will create a moment, one that she may not remember, one that may be lost when I am yelling at her to hurry up or she is going to be late for school...but I will still create a moment nevertheless.

Tomorrow, I will pause for a few seconds and take it all in. I will take her picture on her first day of her last year of elementary school and I will allow it to sink in, and I will take notice that it is a moment in time...and time flies.

If blowing out candles on a birthday cake really made wishes come true...what would you wish for? Since today is my birthday, I began to wonder what I would wish for. A bigger house? A newer car? A better job? No. I have given it a great deal of thought. If I had three wishes...I would wish for...

* A time machine. I would have conversations with my younger self and instill the knowledge it took me 36 years to gain. I wouldn't undo any single event good or bad because... that would mean altering the course that is my life, a life in which I'm happy. I would just impart true wisdom...like being healthy has little to do with numbers on a scale, and that the most incredible blessings in life are the ones worth waiting for.

*The ability to recall memories and feel, see, touch, taste, hear and smell the moments just by thinking about them. I would think about my grandpa and be able to feel his arms around me, and breathe in the smell of garlic and Ben Gay. I would remember kissing my dad goodbye before school every morning, and feel the stubble on his cheek and the sound of his voice as he said "Love you, baby." I would think about the moments when the magic of life happens, the moments that are important, the ones that we don't even realize matter until we are looking back. I would be able to remember the way Charli smelled when she was a baby, the sound of her little toddler voice, and the feel of her hand in mine back when it was so much smaller.

*A "Beam Me Up Scotty" machine, big enough for me and a few friends...Seriously how cool would that be?! I could just step in a capsule and beam myself to Italy for a bottle of wine for dinner. My girls and I would never miss another book signing. I could go visit all the places on my bucket list with out the hassle of car or air travel. Yes a Scotty Machine indeed.

Thirty six certainly isn't old by any stretch, though when I was seventeen it seemed ancient. I have learned that sometimes you have to agree to disagree, especially when it comes to your family. I have learned that being able to let go of things helps you hold on to others. I have learned the value of true friendship and am blessed to have true friends. I have learned that regardless of how I would like certain people to take better care of themselves, I can't do it for them. Murphy's Law always applies and sometimes you need to be okay with where you are in order to get where you want to be. Anything worth having is worth fighting for.

Today is my birthday. I am content, well loved and happy. It is a very happy birthday.

Believe it...

The words swirl in my head, my fingers feverishly peck the keys, and my word count climbs higher by the second. I never dreamed of owning a farm with talking animals, when I was a kid. I had no desire to be president, or run away with the circus. I wanted to fall in love, get married, have babies, be a teacher, then later changed to being a writer. I didn't think it would take having my heart broken, not once by twice, (being a teenager sucked), before I met the man my childhood dreams were made of. I guess the third time really is a charm. I just assumed that I would have babies, an even number, like two, four, or six. The fact that I was blessed with one is a miracle. Somewhere along the way, from those childhood dreams to the word that invokes fear in many...reality...I grew up and became jaded. What once seemed possible, suddenly had a snow cone chance in Hades of ever happening.


I used to make up stories when I was a kid, to entertain my sister. I had always been the "creative one". I wrote poems, and stories, and in high school, I wrote for the school paper. I am not sure when it happened but sometime after I dipped my toe into the water of the real world, I stopped writing. Why? Life happens. You work, get married, have kids (or in my case a kid), and you pay the bills. Time slips away and you muddle through, one day rolling into the next. You do what needs to be done and you place the needs of your family above all else. You work at a job you no longer love, to provide for the family you do love. If you are lucky, you find a way, to let the person you wanted to be, become part of the person you are.

I never thought I would be in the midst of writing my first novel at 35 years old. Truth be told, I will be 36 in a few weeks. I mean I never thought...I would be in the midst of writing a freaking novel! How incredibly awesome is that?! You are never too old to become the person you were in your dreams. Go ahead, take an acting class or two. Dance like nobody is watching. Head to the batting cages. Go back to school. We teach our children that anything is possible, that with hard work and determination, they can make impossible dreams a reality. We say it to them with such conviction, and we don't doubt the words for a second. We don't doubt their ability to make it happen. Believe it for yourself... the way you believe it for your kids. Give yourself permission to be passionate about something.

I think therefore I am...

I had no idea that when I got up yesterday morning, that the day just might have changed my life. My friend Julie and I headed down to a book festival in Orlando. We had the opportunity to meet several authors and listen to them speak. We had front row seats for Lisa Scottoline. Lisa is one of my favorite authors. You know how a book occasionally stays with you long after you have read it? Well, Lisa wrote a book called "Save Me" and if you haven't read it, I highly recommend it. This story gets inside you and it makes you look at who you are, your personal truth. When a "What if..." question is posed, we often strive to give the "politcally correct answer", the answer that our society and a group of our peers would approve of. What if nobody was looking though? Who would you save? Would you sacrifice the life of another to spare someone you love? Lisa's stories force you to really look beyond the surface, to search the corners of your soul, and sometimes the truth surprises you.

There is a question and answer session at the end of each authors symposium.
"How do you overcome writers block?" This was the question I chose to ask of Lisa Scottoline. Now I was expecting Lisa's answer to be something profound, earth moving, or life altering. Her response was simply,"You just write." Ok...hold the bus! So I just write? Good or bad? As long as I can hold a pencil or peck my laptop keys...I just write? There are no rules for a rough draft, good or bad,... you just write! I discovered that advice is somewhat of an "a-ha moment" for me.

So here I go...good or bad I shall open up my saved documents, and just write. Writing has always been a part of me. I am a writer so I shall write!

No laughing matter

It's 3AM and I have the urge to crawl out of my skin. Most women have fantasies that include Channing Tatum, some other Hollywood hottie or their own husbands. These days I fantasize about removing my ovaries...with a scapel. I have endometriosis. I assume most women of reproductive age know what it is but in case you don't...I will give you the medical definition.

Endometriosis is a gynecological condition. The tissue that lines the uterus, (the endometrium), is found only in the uterus and is expelled from the body with each menstrual cycle. When a woman develops endometriosis, microscopic bits of this tissue escape from the uterus backwards into the abdomen and stick and grow on other pelvic areas in the abdomenal region. It's chronic,painful and progressive, though there are treatments, there is no cure. Endometriosis is a known cause of infertility. We planned on having 2-4 kids and now you all know why Charli is an only child. Some women are able to have more children...for us, my daughter's existance is a miracle.

My endometriosis was "offically" diagnoised at 20 years old through laproscopic surgery, though it is strongly suspected I have had it since I was 17 years old. I have dealt with endo for so long that it is (literally) a part of me, like the two birthmarks on my left leg that are diagional from each other, or the scar on my right hand. My personal mantra is "Suck it up, and deal". I have spent many years sucking it up and dealing...these days it is getting harder to do that. I do my best not to complain because complaining changes nothing. I slip the mask in place and it typically works like a charm. The only people who see through it are my husband, my mother, and those few friends who are my inner circle. I am tough...lately though, this disease is kicking my butt. I have had 3 laproscopies in 13 years. Birth control pills don't really work for me, and being as I am only 35 a hysterectomy is out of the question. Now what is a girl to do?

I have a very dear friend who has truly been a God send in my life. She inspires me and most of all, she always meets me where I am on this journey. At this point I have pretty much exhausted what can be done medically speaking. I have tried a few alternative things like herbs and making changes in my diet with some success. There is something called an Endo diet and given my circumstances as of late, I figure it's with a try. Acupunture is also on my list. When my dear friend asked me if I ever thought about acupuncture the the other day, I shot down the idea immediately...for about 20 seconds. I realize that looking into the option of acupunture doesn't make me the condutor of the crazy train. I am desperate. Desperate times call for desperate measures and it seems like a much better idea than self inflicted ovary removal.

Life after I Do...

I am one of those girls who thinks I can do it all and my wedding day was no different. Make a grooms cake? (Of course, and it was in the shape of a race car, thank you very much!) Pick up my wedding cake on the way to the church? (Sure, why not?!) Relieve myself (in a very tiny bathroom) while holding up a wedding dress that weighed fifty pounds and crinoline that was poofy enough to fit every fairy godmother from every fairytale ever written underneath it? (I did, it was certainly a challenge but I managed to pull it off without giving myself a "swirlie"). Where was this David Tutera fellow back then I ask you?

The girls walked up the isle to "Butterfly Kisses" by Bob Carlisle. I managed to keep my tears at bay until my Dad knelt down to straighten the train on my dress. In my sister's haste to get up the isle she forgot. Mark and I did one thing that is very different from any other wedding I have ever been to. We stood so we were facing our family and friends and our Pastor's back was the the crowd. The ceremony was beautiful (I don't even think anyone noticed the button when it flew off the back of my sister's dress and landed across the church), the candle lighting, our vows and that kiss...wow! Mark dipped me and that Cinderella dress in Fred and Ginger fashion and kissed me until my knees were weak.

Mark was in charge of packing for our honeymoon. We were young (I was 20 and he was 24) and we didn't own a single piece of luggage. Mark handled it with the help of Hefty...yes as in "hefty, hefty, cinch sack". He packed our clothes for the honeymoon in a trash bag!!! (Umm Hello...David Tutera?) The depths of Mark's helpfulness is unlimited, so he took all the cards from our wishing well AND all the cards off every package before the gifts were ever opened so I had no idea who to thank for what! I should mention by the time we left for our honeymoon, our guests had already gone home. Our close family and the clean up crew were so busy that nobody really witnessed the whole card debacle. I have thought back to our wedding many times over the years and it brings a smile to my face and makes me giggle.

It isn't so much the wedding that matters. What is important... is life after you say I do. The last 15 years have certainly been filled with laughter and tears, but I can honestly say we have had more laughter than tears. I am blessed to have such a remarkable husband. I hope we have at least 50 more years together. Mark...my cup runneth over.