Month: March 2012

Hitting the Send Button

 

I thought I had it under control.

I thought I knew how to make sure it wouldn’t become an issue.

But now I sit and know it isn’t true.

I stare at a finished article.  One part of my brain says, “Get your email ready, attach the file and hit send.”

The other part says,  “Read it one more time. What if you missed something?  What if you could change one more word? What if you could move a sentence or a paragraph? What if you could make it better?”

I just need one, two, maybe five minutes max, I tell myself.  It’s not quite ready. Just one more time. I promise only one more time to read it.

Instead, I shake my head, close my eyes, breathe, put my head in my hands and slowly pull my fingers through my hair.

Yes, my greatest strength is truly my greatest weakness.

I am still a perfectionist.

I take another deep breath, sit up straight, stretch my arms in front of me and stare at the article.

It will have to be ready.  I write my email, attach the file and hit send.

I’m attempting to take part in the “The Fifth Annual Slice of Life Story Challenge” through the month of March. The challenge is run by Two Writing Teachers.

Baby Showers and Ventilators

 

“Oh, you won’t be at her baby shower?” the secretary asked me with a curious expression.

I wanted to scream. Had she not read the company-wide email that my infant son had died shortly after birth? Had she forgotten that everyone in the offices should have known about our son’s severe problems? Had she not remembered that I had been pregnant, gave birth, and buried my son only a few short months before? Had she not realized how her simple question seemed so insincere?

“Um, I can’t do baby showers right now. Will you please make sure she gets this gift?” I softly answered.

I quickly handed over the small gift bag with lotions and a gift card. The only type of gift I could bring myself to buy at that time. I swiftly turned and walked out the department’s door. I was trying to walk bravely. I was trying to not run toward the door.  I was trying to not cry.

—

It’s nine years, two healthy boys and four of my own baby showers later. I still struggle with baby showers. I still breathe a deep breath before walking into a room full of baby excitement.  I still rehearse in my head the options of what I could say.

Cue the smile. Cue the laughter. Cue the oohs and ahhs. Cue the responses of yes, that is a cute outfit.  I try my hardest to live in the moment of joy, but inside my head I am reminded.

Reminded that any shower plans for our son were quickly halted when we found out about his severe trisomy 13.

Reminded that a trip to plan a baby registry was quickly replaced with a trip to plan end-of-life options with a neonatologist.

Reminded that while others planned baby showers, birthing plans and nursery colors, my husband and I were deciding on feeding tubes, comfort care and ventilators for our unborn son.

Reminded that while others sat at stores with the lady who was about to hand over the scanning device to fill a baby registry, we sat with a doctor who specializes in caring for ill newborns.

Reminded that while others can’t decide between the light blue or the bright green crib set and probably driving some store clerk crazy, we were saying to the neonatologist, “Yes. We want this decision. Wait, no, we want this decision. Oh wait, we don’t know what the best decision is yet.” She was so very patient with us, and we were able to come to concrete decisions.

I will still go to baby showers.  I hope I still get invited to them after this post. I will still take a deep breath before walking into a room full of baby excitement. I will still pick out the cute outfit or impractical necessity on someone’s baby wish list.

But more importantly, I will think back to when we made important decisions for our son. Decisions that went way beyond nursery decor, wipes warmers and baby registries.

—

I have to admit, the last two sentences surprised me when I wrote them.  I was surprised at how I could go from the emotions of the memory, to the emotions at baby showers, to the realization of the real memory  that connects me to Aidan and baby showers.

I’m attempting to take part in the “The Fifth Annual Slice of Life Story Challenge” through the month of March. The challenge is run by Two Writing Teachers.

Playing in the Dirt

 

I should have been working on paperwork or the pile of dishes. Instead I found myself in the midst of my flower bed. Instead of wearing my usual grubby flower bed cleaning clothes, I was wearing my jeans with a black belt, my little cute black shoes and a nice t-shirt.  What was I thinking?!!? The boys played outside. It was a beautiful day.  I decided to dig in the dirt.

I should have been checking my email to find out what important tasks or information I was missing related to my responsibilities.  Instead of wearing my gardening gloves, I was letting the fresh dirt sift through my fingers. My hands were dirty and getting scratched. I felt a worm squiggle across my fingers. The smells from the dirt transported me back to the days of making Oscar the Grouch soup in my mother’s bird bath.

I should have been taking care of paying bills and making phone calls. Instead I was digging up unwanted bushes. I thought of the flower beds we bought with this house almost twelve years ago. I thought about my pre-kids days when I would take a couple days off of work, my aunt would fly in from the Midwest and we would garden for days. Oh the money we spent on mulch and rocks and pretty flowers. Oh the time we spent running from store to store searching for the perfect perennial to put in the perfect spot.

I stepped away from the piles of pulled out bushes and raked up flower bed debris. How funny that in the midst of the bushes and dirt, I found enough lost sidewalk chalk to create a whole new bucket. The memories of yesterday combined with the moments in the present. And a whole new slate of dirt and openness to start to plan. A newness. A freshness. An opportunity to play in the dirt.

I’m attempting to take part in the “The Fifth Annual Slice of Life Story Challenge” through the month of March. The challenge is run by Two Writing Teachers.

Thorns and Scars

 

I have a thorn in my foot. I know it can’t be big. It is from the bushes in my front yard. The ones that we have been talking about pulling out for years. They line the sidewalk to our front door. Five of them that came with the house. They are  the ones my kids and their friends trip over, run into, collide into and try to avoid.

I have a thorn in my foot. It has only been there a couple days. Every step I take hurts. I wash my foot and sit down with a stick pin. I try first to push it out with my fingers. The skin has already healed over it. I use the stick pin and start to dig into my skin. Just a little prick. Just a little tug. Just a little blood.

I had a thorn in the top of my wrist. I was in college. I had just moved on campus twelve hours from home. I was with a group of girls from the dorm. We were playing an impromptu game of volleyball in the front of the building. I went for the ball, lost my balance and went into a thorn bush. The giggles. The laughter. The fun. The simple time of only worrying about myself.

I had a thorn in my wrist. That thorn was there for days. I could see it want to come out of my skin. I could see the skin heal around it. I pushed on it with my right hand pointer finger and thumb. Squeeze here. Squeeze there. Almost have it out this time. Oh, not quite yet.

I had a thorn in my wrist. One day in class I was messing with the thorn-filled skin. I pushed one more time from either side with my fingers. Out popped the thorn. Straight up in the air. It was so simple yet took a lot of pushing, pulling, pressing and diligence. I now have a scar on my wrist where that thorn was for those days. A reminder of college, volleyball, a thorn bush, laughter, giggles and worrying only about myself.

I had a thorn in my foot. It is no longer there. It decided to come out after a little prying, after a little focus on my part, after using the correct tools.

It won’t leave a scar but this year. This year we will finally pull out those thorn bushes from the front yard. Not for me and the thorns I might get.  But for those I now worry about and the thorns they could get.

I’m attempting to take part in the “The Fifth Annual Slice of Life Story Challenge” through the month of March. The challenge is run by Two Writing Teachers.

Simple Spaghetti

 

She made a simple spaghetti. Noodles and V8 juice. Yep. Just noodles and V8 juice.

I still remember sitting at her dining room table. Slurping. Laughing. Eating.

I make a more involved spaghetti. Whole wheat noodles. Pasta sauce. Ground beef. Mushrooms. Garlic. Seasoning.

My boys sit at my table. They slurp. They laugh. They eat.

Every time I sauté the mushrooms, garlic and seasoning, I think of her. As the ground beef is browning, I remember the way she would move around her small kitchen.

As I pour the whole wheat noodles into the boiling water, I chuckle at her plain white noodles. I wonder would she use whole wheat now.

As I pour in the store-bought three cheese sauce to simmer, I can almost taste the V8 juice. As I watch my boys eat, I think of sitting at the table with my siblings and cousins.

My boys cheer for my spaghetti. I’m sure I cheered for my grandma’s spaghetti. What I wouldn’t give to slurpe, giggle and eat at her table just one more time. Her simple spaghetti of noodles and V8 juice.

My grandma died in a car accident almost fifteen years ago. The older I get, the more I miss her.

I’m attempting to take part in the “The Fifth Annual Slice of Life Story Challenge” through the month of March. The challenge is run by Two Writing Teachers.

Siblings who Create

 

I create with words.

My sister creates with fabrics.

My brother creates with photographs.

We are siblings who create.

It has been a long week here at my house. While I wish I had more time to write some deep insightful posts, my brain is begging me for short snippets of life.

I’m attempting to take part in the “The Fifth Annual Slice of Life Story Challenge” through the month of March. The challenge is run by Two Writing Teachers.

The Word Count

 

Today I submit an article to a client. One of my favorite parts of the writing process is watching the number of words change until I meet the word count limit.  I thought I would share my word count process from this article.

The words are from 4 sources, 29 single pages of handwritten notes from the phone interviews, 9 typed pages of notes and snippets from 6 supporting documents from sources.

Word limit of article:  1700 words

READY. SET. GO.

2,761

2,321

2,365

2,155

2,230

2,196

2,180

An interruption of two battle droids (aka my two boys) who snuck into my office to “attack” me. They didn’t expect me to play along. I ignored them, “collapsed” on the floor and waited. Silence and then giggles.

2,186

2,102

2,116

2,109

2,092

2,135

1,988

1,918

1,925

1,924

1,843

1,825

1,775

1,765

1,686

Under the 1700 word count!

I’m attempting to take part in the “The Fifth Annual Slice of Life Story Challenge” through the month of March. The challenge is run by Two Writing Teachers.

An (Athletic) Fraud

 

I feel like a fraud. An athletic fraud.

I am wearing a shirt that says“I tri like a girl so tri to keep up” on the front. On the back, it says “fast.”

I’ve competed in two triathlons. The first as a part of a relay team where I swam. The second all by myself: a swim, a cycle, and a 5K.  You can read about it on a previous blog post.

I still don’t think of myself as an athlete.

I’m not fast in swimming, cycling or even running.

I’m recovering from a hip and shoulder issue that has required almost weekly trips to the chiropractor for the past few months.  And a realization that I have one leg shorter than the other.

I’m not sure if I will be able to run again. So far, this shoe insert has helped keep my hip in place with walking and daily life. Now, I’ve slowly started back with sprints.

I’m hoping my shoulder will be strong enough to swim again. My chiropractor is now working on breaking up some icky scar tissue that has developed because my shoulder was compensating for my hip issue all these years.

I want to feel confident cycling again. I haven’t been on a bike for quite awhile because of a cancelled class and my injuried hip.

I have continued to lift weights over the past few months, which I know has made me stronger. Who wants to compete with some bench presses and Romanian Deadlifts?

I’m hoping I can feel strong enough in my mind, my hip and my shoulder to compete again this summer.

Maybe then I will consider myself an athlete.  But right now I think I’m a fraud. An athletic fraud.

I’m attempting to take part in the “The Fifth Annual Slice of Life Story Challenge” through the month of March. The challenge is run by Two Writing Teachers.

Random Thoughts

 

Here are some of the random thoughts that went through my head Monday morning into early afternoon. I was going to continue through the afternoon and evening, but I didn’t realize how many random thoughts quickly go through my head!

I really should get up. I’m so spoiled with sleeping in on days like this.

Oh, great. Keith came home early from work because he got sick.

Oh no. The lady who delivers our mail is at our door, and I’m in my pjs. Hope I look presentable.

Exactly how does my kitchen floor get so dirty. I just swept it the other day.

Oh I hope I don’t get sick today. Wednesday would be a good day to get sick instead.

I should get Kory started on school today.  Math, Language Arts, Science and Vision Therapy. What independent work can I start him on first?  Math.

UGH!  Kory’s school-issued laptop is crashing again. Now to call in for the fourth time to have this resolved.  This time I am asking, no demanding, a replacement laptop instead of having repairs done as has happened the past three times. Do I start with nice Jessica or mean Jessica on the phone?

Back to schoolwork. Let’s start with a language arts.

Oh I have to start thinking about making lunch.  I think mac and cheese will work for today.  If they went to a “real” school, I wouldn’t have to worry about their lunches. LOL!

Oh this vein on my knee is starting to look gross. UGH. Are genetics catching up to me!!?

Will Kory just hurry up on his math already.

What to make for Keith for lunch. Chicken broth. Noodles. Done

Oh I have to leave in two hours for errands and vision therapy.  What do I have clean to wear today?

How many times do I have to remind my 3 year old to keep his hands out of his pajama pants.

Mentally calculate how to get the three of us ready to leave in an hour – and notice all the dirty dishes over the counter. They can wait until later.

Oh I wonder if that shirt hanging in my closet will finally fit this year. Yeah – it does!

Is that a bird I hear chirping? Spring. Spring. Spring.

Ugh. I really need to unpack my suitcase since we have been home for over a week now.

What random thoughts crossed through your head today?

I’m attempting to take part in the “The Fifth Annual Slice of Life Story Challenge” through the month of March. The challenge is run by Two Writing Teachers.

A List of Middles

 

We are a family of four.  Two adults. Two children. Well sometimes one adult and three children. 😉

Our kitchen table has six chairs. Three on one side.  Three on the other side.  Two middles.

My sons fight over the middle chair on one of the sides.

They run to the table and almost dive to the middle chair.

“It is mine. I get the middle,” they scream as they run.

They seem to forget there are two middles. If they just took the time to see and focus on something other than beating the other, they would realize there are two middles. One on each side. One for each of them.

But they overlook the “other” middle.

What middles do I often not see…

Middle of the Oreo – Isn’t it truly the best part!

Middle of a Twinkie – I haven’t had a twinkie for quite a while.

Middle Earth – Wait is that real or imaginary?

Middle Finger – Oh, to explain that to a young child.

Middle C – I know where it is on my piano. Do you?

Middle Children – I’m the oldest child married to an oldest child. I so don’t get middle children sometimes. 😉

Middle Line Backer – Yes, my husband was helping me with this list. 🙂

Middle of the Donut – Reminds me of a funny donut story my college friend told me once.

Middle of the Night – When my kids typically get sick.

Middle of the Inning –  I thought of that sports one, not my husband.

The Middle Lane – Whether in driving or swimming.

What “middles” can you add to the list?

I’m attempting to take part in the “The Fifth Annual Slice of Life Story Challenge” through the month of March. The challenge is run by Two Writing Teachers.