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.

Explosive...

Picture it...my mothers kitchen 1990 something. The walls of my parents galley kitchen were painted this horrible bright lemon yellow. Mom loved it, I guess she was going through a phase. It was raining outside, storming to beat the band. My mom asked me to go make a pot of tea and my daddy was in the kitchen making zucchini bread... from scratch with the zucchini fresh from his garden. He had just finished shredding the zucchini and walked around with his chest puffed out, proud as a peacock getting in touch with his inner Betty Crocker. I went into the kitchen to start the tea, turning on the stove burner (paying no mind to the glass casserole baking dish sitting on top of the stove) I always used when I made tea. I went to the sink and filled the pot with water. My parents had been watching Die Hard 2 on VHS...are you feeling old now? There I am in the kitchen looking out the window waiting on the pot to fill when... thunder crashes, lighting strikes, Bruce blows up the plane and that glass casserole dish explodes all simultaneously. Shards of glass rained down like pieces of crystal snow into my Dad's grated zucchini. The proud peacock scooped me up out of the kitchen (my daddy was not a very big man but he was strong as an ox) and carried me over the tile and got me onto the carpet in the dining room. Mom jumped up and I scurried to the bathroom, (white as a ghost and tears streaming down my face). Mom came in checking to make sure I wasn't cut. I did have a piece of glass in my foot but I was really no worse for wear. I shaved about 5 years off everyones life, nobody can ever watch Die Hard in our family without thinking of that story (laughing at my expense)and my Dad never attempted to make zucchini bread again while I lived under their roof. In fact I remember one time well after I got married when I called my parents and my dad says "Hey kid, you coming out today?" I replied "No, Dad not today why?" He said "Because I'm makin' zucchini bread." He laughed and laughed. True story folks, I can't make this stuff up.

Last week I was whipping up chicken salsa. I preheated the oven, laid my boneless skinless chicken breast in a glass casserole dish, poured my organic salsa over it and put it in the oven and set the timer for 25 minutes. I went into my bedroom and five minutes later I heard this ungodly explosion. I ran to the kitchen, opened the oven door and 2 pieces of glass flew out and one of them hit me...bullseye, right in the leg. I didn't get cut, I was just ticked. I really wanted that chicken! I called Mark and because he knows the zucchini story, first like a good husband he asked if I was okay, when I assured him I was... Mark started laughing...not haha but belly laughing, hard! You know, laughing so hard you are grasping for breath laughing? Needless to say we had pizza that night for dinner. As for my explosive knack with glass casserole dishes...well in the words of John McClaine "Yippy ki ay" :)

Don't feed the monster...

We have a saying in our house that I borrowed from a friend...Don't feed the monster. Charli had a meltdown at the dentist yesterday, clamped her mouth shut and flat out REFUSED to let the hygenist finish cleaning her teeth. This has never happened before. The hygenist had to come and get me. I walk into the room and there is my daughter watching TV, mouth tightly shut, and her eyes red from crying.

Let me stop a moment to give a little back story: The day was hectic. I had to leave work, pick her up from school and have her to the orthodontist by 2:10 to get her wire for her braces removed before taking her to the dentist. The dentist office is 35 minutes from her orthodontist office. Then after the dentist I had to get her back to the orthodontist to have the wire put back in as her orthodontist's office wouldn't be open again until Tuesday. I also needed to pick up hog feed, run and buy dog food and swing back by work to drop it off as I knew there was a possiblilty I would be off to enjoy an extended weekend while there is no school between teacher work days and the MLK holiday. The point is we were in a major time crunch.

I stood over Charli while she was reclined in the seat and made up my mind that I wasn't going to feed the monster. I looked down at her and told her that she needed to open her mouth and finish her cleaning...period. Do you know what my precious daughter did? She stuck her tongue out at me in front of her dentist and hygenist!!! (I am sure your perfect children would never do such a thing but my kid missed the memo regarding sticking her tongue out at her mother). I was stunned but I recovered quickly, tied my supermom cape a little tighter and I asked her if she wanted me to pop that tongue back in her mouth. I then said " Do not think just because we are in public that I won't escort you into the bathroom young lady! Open your mouth NOW and let her finish so we can go!" There was no coaxing, bribing or anything of the kind. She opened her mouth (granted not happily) and we were out of there 10 mintutes later. I did find out from her dentist that she had 2 tiny cavaties! Blah (Oral-B super brusher? Nope...guess not)

I decided since I moved her dentist appointment up and it was currently 3:33, I was going to press my luck and drive to get the hog feed (which is located halfway to B.F.E.), prior to heading back to the orthodontist. I also had to stop for gas because I was running on fumes. I made it to the ortho at 4:41. We were out of there at 4:55. I stopped to pick up the dog food, called the bosses' gave them the run down, and went back to work to drop off the feed and dog food. I unloaded 200 lbs of hog feed (50 lb bags...yep little heavy) and put away the dog food. Charli and I left rejoicing in the fact that I would have a long weekend off work while she was out of school.

Don't feed the monster simply means, I am not going to fuel the bad behavior. I am also not going to bargin or bribe a 10 year old. Ode to joy...now to schedule her filling appointment. I am pretty sure Mark will be off that day :D

Love and Marriage

I remember watching them as a little girl. How my grandpa's eyes would twinkle, and how my grandma would randomly curl up in his lap. They had quite the love story, my grandparents. They were survivors. My grandparents loved each other through the birth of five children (and the death of one),through sickness, in good times and difficult times. They prayed for each other, and kissed goodnight. My grandparents were my hope that one day I would grow up and have somebody to love me and that I would have somebody to love, like those two loved each other. My grandparents would have been married 64 years yesterday but my grandpa passed three weeks before their 47th wedding anniversary. I was 18 years old when he died. I had no idea how much I would come to appreciate him and my grandma in the years that have followed. Growing up, times were hard but grandma and grandpa were a constant example of love and unwavering faith.
It is hard to believe that Mark and I will be married for 15 years on 02/07/2013. I am blessed beyond measure and so grateful that God brought such an amazing man into my life. He has loved me through the good, bad and the ugly. He has loved me through our fertility struggles, the death of my dad, and all the craziness that I get myself caught up in. Mark has encouraged me, prayed over me, and believed in me, when I haven't had much faith in myself. He is my loudest cheerleader, my biggest fan. He sees me at my worst and tells me I am beautiful. We can find each other across a crowded room and have a conversation without words. Mark is my happily ever after. I am thankful to God for the good times, the tough times and all the times in between. It is all those moments that make up a lifetime...of loving each other.