And I Thought I Was Losing Brain Cells Before

A couple of months ago, I mentioned in my family blog that I felt like I had nothing to do, that I was losing my brain cells from being a SAHM. I couldn't have been more wrong! I have so much on my calendar that I'm a living episode of "Hoarders: Buried Alive!" I don't even have time to expedite a book club that my sister and I started at the beginning of the year. I don't think it helped any that our members were less than enthusiastic about reading different kinds of literature. (Ex. one doesn't want to read series [there goes Hunger Games and Harry Potter], another doesn't want to read books she had to read in high school [so long classics and thought-provoking works], another is so defensive that anything religious is inflammatory. Makes for interesting group of contributors and books to choose from doesn't it? I'm afraid I'll be calling my sister and telling her we're gonna have to wait until after May to start up again. Yeah, procrastinators!!!

And it's only going to get worse in the next few weeks. I mentioned in my last post, the dance rehearsals for the Centennial, but when I have the next four Saturdays accounted for it makes me wish I never said I liked having a busy schedule. I wish I was ten again. Where Saturday afternoons were perfect to catch movies from the 80s and the films no one bothered to buy. I am the youngest of seven so by the time I was ten, two sisters were married with a kid each, and one was living away from home and the other three were teenagers.

Back to the present: I'm so nervous that I'm going to forget something so important that I'm constantly turning on my smartphone, pulling up the calendar just to make sure I don't skip over any minute detail. Has that ever happened to you? When your life is so scheduled down to the minute that you just wish you could take a 100 years nap like Rip VanWinkle? Although, that brings up an interesting observation. I would miss out on all the events that got me to the final destination.

Have you ever seen "Click" an Adam Sandler movie that came out in 2006?

I really appreciated the moral of the story; as much as we would like to fast forward all the mundane parts of our lives, we miss out on the journey. A wise man counseled me before I got married to the hubs, "Live in the now, because you'll miss out on the present if you're constantly thinking about what the future holds." I have really tried to put that counsel into my life especially as a mother. Little F will grow up all too soon, so I try to cherish every stage he reaches instead of constantly dwelling on the times when he'll be more independent and less reliant on me.

Song for a Fifth Child, by Ruth Hamilton, 1958

Mother, oh Mother, come shake out your cloth
empty the dustpan, poison the moth,
hang out the washing and butter the bread,
sew on a button and make up a bed.
Where is the mother whose house is so shocking?
She’s up in the nursery, blissfully rocking.

Oh, I’ve grown shiftless as Little Boy Blue
(lullaby, rockaby, lullaby loo).
Dishes are waiting and bills are past due
(pat-a-cake, darling, and peek, peekaboo).
The shopping’s not done and there’s nothing for stew
and out in the yard there’s a hullabaloo
but I’m playing Kanga and this is my Roo.
Look! Aren’t her eyes the most wonderful hue?
(lullaby, rockaby, lullaby loo).

The cleaning and scrubbing will wait till tomorrow,
for children grow up, as I’ve learned to my sorrow.
So quiet down, cobwebs. Dust go to sleep.
I’m rocking my baby and babies don’t keep.

My eyes are welling with tears just thinking about my little man that recently turned two! I think most mothers would agree that their child/children are the best. I have a good'un! He's incredibly thoughtful and polite. His smile takes over his whole face, his eyes squish to near non-existence, his teeth shine brightly from his half-moon mouth.

Did I do him justice? As much as I like to pride myself on being a good writer, I always worry that my point won't convey to the reader. The picture above satisfies the visual learner in me.

And I just realized that my writing blog is becoming less and less about writing and/or becoming a good writer as my personal life creeps in more and more. Who knows, I may just combine my two passions: writing and becoming a better wife and mother into this nifty little blog.

Until then,

just keep writing, just keep writing.

Nearly There

The time is soon approaching where I don't have a million things on my plate. I thought after this coming Saturday I would be a little more free with my time. Alas, twas not meant to be. I forgot that I was helping teach a dance to 12-13 year old girls for Arizona's Centennial. So after April 21st, I will truly have nothing on my plate, other than all the mom juggling I'm already doing.

The wedding for my sister in-law that I threw the bridal shower for went splendidly. The weather was cooperative, cloudy and slightly breezy with a nice chill, or in other words: sweat-ah weath-ah! Arizona has been in early menopause for the last few months. We definitely had an Indian Summer in September (wondering when the summer would end!) and just last week I was sporting skirts and flip flops in March. It just can't make up its mind!

Next on the agenda is two little low-key get togethers in honor of F's birthday with a Toy Story theme. We already had a little celebration with the grandparents and an aunt and uncle on hubby's side. I can't believe he's going to be two! In my mind he's two going on ten! He is such a little mimicker at the moment and tries so hard to enunciate the words he hears and he's such a smarty-pants (no really, he is, I'm not just saying because I'm his mother. He really is smart!) However, there are some words I wish he wouldn't repeat. I don't swear, but I'd rather not hear, "Oh, crap!" coming out of his mouth. Don't get me wrong, it is so incredibly cute and laughter-inducing but a word like bummer seems slightly more acceptable to the most number of people. Here's to my little man who decided to grow up!

Spring Break

Happy Spring Break everyone! I hope you do something especially spring-y this week. See you next Thursday!

Already a Slacker

I've only had this blog for how many weeks now, and I've already missed a deadline?!?! I blame it on everybody else but me. Other people I know have been busy and planning parties and weddings but then I thought, "Oh yeah! I was busy planning a bridal shower for my husband's sister, so there!" I had a good reason. That was a couple of weeks ago now and I really haven't had anything pressing on my plate and nap times haven't been used as efficiently. I knew that I was going to be busy a couple of weeks ago so that's why I got prepared, but it's already almost five in the evening (my time) and I'm just now starting to post!

A couple of things about the bridal shower, at least I didn't have to plan it all myself and I had the help of my incredibly talented SIL to help me decorate the concessions table in the theme of "Night at the Movies." I decided to go with this theme because the bride-to-be worked at a movie theater when she was in high school. I figured it would be a fun theme for her. It turned out darling, if I do say so myself. Hopefully I will get pictures posted soon, I can't seem to figure that out right now, what with buying a new camera and hubby and I trying to figure out using one laptop. Turns out that my user can't access our shared pictures, weird.

As guests came in, they wrote down a word of advice for the happy couple on ticket stubs

The concessions table

No movie theme is complete without Red Vines!

Boston Baked Beans and Tropical Lemon Heads

Whoppers, Mike&Ike's, Reese's Pieces

Popcorn!

My sister in-law (the bride to be) and me!

Well, whaddaya know?! Turns out I figured out how to get the pictures I wanted to post all by myself. I'm so glad that she liked the theme and that she had some good friends turn up to support her.

Next up on my social calendar, planning a little shindig for F's second birthday! We'll be doing a Toy Story theme, seems appropriate since F is completely obsessed with the franchise. My hubby is even talking about purchasing the Hawaiian Vacation short film just to add some variety to our collection. To be honest, I love that about hubby, he's willing to put off his own happiness for his son's. I'm sure there are more awesome things that he would want to spend money on.

In case you were wondering: I was able to pull off this theme due to the fact that my sister threw a baby shower for me using popcorn as the jumping off point. The blue/teal framed chalkboard as well as the other one and a movie themed canvas was borrowed as were the plates, popcorn machine and glassware for the service of Red Vines and Pretzels. I got the idea of the red and white striped tablecloth from my baby shower that I recreated. We just used the empty candy boxes as decor to make the table look fuller and had a couple of candy bar prizes (Skor, Whatchamacallit, and Mr. Goodbar) for a guessing game. We had a mad-lib for the bride and groom since the bride is a fan. The center pieces were already assembled from my baby shower so we just covered up the reference to pregnancy and added our own catch phrase, Popping with Joy! Since my mother in-law and I split the cost of stamps, the bridal shower only cost me $50 dollars (happened to be my budget)! The key to keeping functions inexpensive-BORROW, BORROW, BORROW and ask for help!

I Like Books

I like books, especially the ones that speak to my soul, the ones I wish weren't fiction!

The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society was one such book. This is what I wrote on Goodreads.com about it: I absolutely loved this book! I kept forgetting that it was a novel, the characters were so real. While reading it, I wanted to go to Guernsey and meet the descendants of these people. It is a must-read! You won't be disappointed.

I had to keep it brief since there is too much praise for this book. On the other hand, I read a book, that was difficult to get through, not because of language or the scenes but just the plot line seemed to take a lifetime to develop! Reading is all about discovering what you like and don't like, isn't it?

Writing Jane Austen:

I don't know if I want to be an author anymore. This book surely shatters any glamour of being a published author. Aston really gets into the nitty-gritty of the publishing world thanks to the tortured relationship between Georgina and her literary agent. For Georgina, it's not about writing anymore, bearing her soul to the world through her late 19th century historical fiction novels, it's about finishing the job whether she likes it or not.

I wish I had been reading this with someone else. It would have been nice to complain about this book with someone who knew what was going on. Overall, I liked the book, but the story took forever to develop and once it got started, I wish there was more of it. And when I say story I mean the romantic story line that was developing. I think that it could have helped improve the book instead of just being about a writer's frustration with having to write a book that was so out of her own genre.

I had never read any of Aston's other books and I'm usually apprehensive about reading a contemporary book because there might be profanity, but I was pleasantly surprised to find very little and that it wasn't just for the sake of having profanity. It really did fit the characters.

As for a recommendation, I guess I would have to say that this book is mostly for writers who find themselves in similar situations, having to finish a book that no longer has meaning or not having the words to desperately finish a beloved piece. I think it would make a great book club selection mostly because the book comes with questions to ask and discuss amongst a group.

I think I would be willing to read it again if someone read it with me.

What books have you read that you loved? Suffered through?

~ Lady Jane

Walk to School

I decided to reflect a little more on what Goldberg meant by composting and I thought of a place that I know very well, still to this day. Even though it's been almost a decade since I've been to said place, I walked this stretch of road five days a week for a total of eight years! This stretch of road lead from my home to my elementary school. I remember walking down my driveway over the two speed bumps (installed because of my aunt's worrisome nature) and up to the main street of my little county island neighborhood. I would veer left heading towards what seemed another long driveway, towards my school. Once I passed under the steel-fence frame's opening I was greeted by a huge expanse of grass separated by a berm. I even still remember thinking about how funny the word "berm" was the more and more I said it. Berm, berm, berm...it's just funny.

I would get to school about fifteen to twenty minutes before the first bell. I dropped off my backpack at my classroom's spot on the edge of the basketball court and immediately ran off to play or gossip as the morning sun slowly brightened in the east.

I loved walking to school in the winter time, fascinated I could see my breath and absolutely convinced that it had snowed when in fact it was frost.

I had wonderful teachers at my elementary, still remember them all. Even the music, art, and P.E. teachers. They all had a profound effect on me as I grew up.

Kindergarten: Mrs. Alvin Music: Mrs. Cluff

1st Grade: Miss Brinkerhoff Art: Mrs. Taylor

2nd Grade: Mrs. Painter P.E.: Mr. Mullins

3rd Grade: Mrs. Walton Principal: Mr. Salisbury

4th Grade: Mrs. Peterson Office Ladies: Carol, Debbie

5th Grade: Mrs. Johnson Playground duty: Shirley

6th Grade: Mrs. Henkel Groundskeeper: Jay

I participated in talent shows, and assemblies. I embarrassed myself on more than one occasion. I learned that pulling the seat out from under a kid and trying to push it back in quickly warrants a note home and disappointment from your teacher as well as the truth that it always looks better in the movies.

Since I walked to school, I would sometimes go home for lunch. This kind of thing was only permitted if I told the playground duty where I was going before I left and when I came back. By the time I was in sixth grade they said I could just call the front office. I had such freedom and I felt like I was treated like any adult that worked at the school because I was trustworthy.

After I graduated from high school I worked at my elementary school for my childhood principal and with a few teachers that were still there when I was a student. I loved working with the kids and teachers which all helped me to discover that I wanted a career in teaching.

There are some good things that come from never being the "new kid". My family was established and by the time I was moving on from elementary school I had saved my family name that had been tarnished by a couple of older brothers (one mostly).

Composting

No, Goldberg didn't suddenly become fascinated with gardening. She's talking about all of our experiences and senses sifting through our subconscious until they become rich. She talks about how it's difficult to write about being in love whilst being in the middle of the experience, same goes for trying to write about a place you've never been or lived in for very long. She quotes about Hemingway, "Maybe away from Paris I could write about Paris as in Paris I could write about Michigan. I did not know it was too early for that because I did not know Paris well enough."

I know exactly what she is illustrating. I am writing a book. I wouldn't say it's great or even meaningful in any regard, but it's a feel-good, girl-meets-boy-girl-falls-for-boy-girl-and-boy-get-married kind of tale. I set my little story in San Luis Obispo, CA. I have been there (once) but I don't know it well enough to describe with great detail, the surroundings. I can make pretty good guesses and I do have the expertise of my husband who grew up on the central coast. So I'm not without resources. But it is difficult.

That's what she means by composting, immersing ourselves in our experiences until they become wholly part of us.

"Continue to turn over and over the organic details of your life until some of them fall through the garbage of discursive thoughts to the solid ground of black soil."

Even her analogies are incredibly well written!

Ode to a Macbook/Writer's Unblocked!

I love to write. I have always loved to write. I'm not sure why or when this particular fancy first made its appearance, but I love that I can sit down at my computer and just jot down any thought that comes to me. I remember a time, not long after my grandmother passed away that I decided to write about all the things I could remember about her. It started with the most recent, the time of her death. I was fortunate enough to be with her and my mother during her passing. That experience alone has been one of the most spiritual I've ever had. Like Goldberg said, you make sense of your life when you write. I think that's what I love about writing; I can make sense of my life and who I am in my own eyes, not through the eyes of others.

"Writing is physical and is affected by the equipment you use." ~ Natalie Goldberg

This is the equipment I use. I've had it since my first semester at ASU, five years ago this fall. Has it really been that long? We've worked on many projects together, written dozens of papers on Shakespeare, films, teaching methods, and books. But my favorite thing to do with my Macbook is write about nothings, somethings, whatever might pop into my head, conscious or subconscious.

I think I type as fast as I think, that's why I prefer using my computer than a notebook and pen. I liked using a notebook and pen when I was in school and had to carry a book bag, but now that I'm a SAHM, I much prefer this method during nap time. I do agree that "Handwriting is more connected to the movement of the heart" but I feel just as connected to this medium as I do to writing. However the key to all this searching and making sense of your life is experimentation.

Just keep writing, just keep writing...

Goldberg suggests:

1. Keep your hand moving

2. Don't cross out (This tip is especially hard for me as I am in editor mode often. One of my favorite pastimes is looking for errors in books I'm reading, or cereal boxes, pretty much anything printed.)

3. Don't worry about spelling (Um, sorry. I pride myself on being an excellent speller.)

4. Lose control

5. Don't think. Don't get logical

6. Go for the jugular (This is the scary stuff deep down inside that you don't want to admit to yourself that you think or have thought about. This is also the stuff that I will never show anyone, EVER!)

Just keep writing, just keep writing...

Working Through the Book

Now that I feel that I have thoroughly exhaled with my previous posts I can now begin my journey of working through the book, Writing Down the Bones: Freeing the Writer Within. In the introduction Goldberg explains ultimately what her book is about as well as what it might help the reader to accomplish. Two of my favorite lines are, "This book is about writing. It is also about using writing as your practice, as a way to help you penetrate your life and become sane." Who wouldn't want that? And, "To do writing practice means to deal ultimately with your whole life." Sounds pretty profound right? Doesn't have to be. The exhilarating aspect of writing for me is that I can confront my fears, disillusions, fantasies, regrets, aspirations and many more parts of my life that need a little tweaking or fresh perspective.

I love music and so I'm often reminded while I write, a song that also conveys my thoughts. In reference to perspective a line from "Everybody's Free to Wear Sunscreen". I can't believe how in one song there are so many good mantras to live by. If only all songs could be that inspiring. "Advice is a form of nostalgia; dispensing it is a way of wishing the past from the disposal-wiping it off, painting over the ugly parts, and recycling it for more than it's worth."

How many times have we given or gotten advice? I remember a story about my Papa and advice. He said something to the effect of, "When somebody gives you advice. Just nod your head and do as you please." This sounds completely contradictory to what I just copied from that song, but in reflecting about what my Papa said, sometimes your gut is your best advice.

True Colors

They say that the eyes are the window to the soul, but that is certainly untrue in my case. I've had people, strangers come up to me when I was in high school and ask if I was okay. The immediate thought that sprang to mind in that scenario was, "Do you see tears running down my face?" Unfortunately for me, my everyday face, neither happy nor sad, just standing there, my face leads people to believe that something terrible just happened to me. Normally, I am a very happy person but my content face looks anything but content. Curse my down-turned eyes! It also doesn't help that my bottom lip pulls the pad of my chin too far north so that from the side I look like Alfred Hitchcock's long-lost daughter.

(I told you)

When I was a teenager I hardly ever looked at boys in the eye, afraid that they might see how transparent I was. I was afraid my eyes would betray my perpetually hushed heart. I listened to my heart, probably more than most and probably more than I should have but I couldn't let anyone else know.

Perhaps, deep inside I am a narcissistic person and that's why I'm so hard on myself, because if I let myself believe I'm a good person or I'm good at doing things then I fear I've become too much of my true self. I remember working on a writing prompt for one of my teaching methods classes. The prompt asked, "What are you an expert in?" I distinctly remember I was having a bad day so I wrote, "Nothing." I felt I was neither good nor bad at a particular skill I had learned, but certainly not an expert. Expert to me implies, exorbitant amounts of wisdom or prowess for said skill. Does anyone else ever feel this way, or am I the only one that thinks too much about what others might think? Which in turn, brings me back to the thought, I must be narcissistic then. I might as well embrace it.

What negative character flaw do you have that you wish you could either embrace or suppress?

I Would Be Lying...

if I said I never dreamed of publishing a book, singing on Broadway or voicing a popular Disney cartoon.

So that means I'm jealous of Janette Rallison (Sierra St. James), Julie Andrews and Mandy Moore.

I've known Janette Rallison for a few years now as an adult but I've known of her since I was five. She is my stay-at-home-mom-published-author role-model. I wish I devoted more time to actually writing in my novel that I started three years ago this June (Sheesh! Has it been that long?). But it's entirely my fault since I think I love sleep a little more right now than she does. She is an inspiration to me since she's published a bazillion books it seems.

I've been jealous of Julie Andrews since the first time I sat through The Sound of Music. I wished I could sing as well as she did. I even bought her Christmas album for my dad one year (that ended up being for me after my mom told me he wouldn't really like it) and I've been trying to match her tone ever since.

I've been jealous of Mandy Moore since I heard her voice coming through Rapunzel's in Disney's Tangled. I saw an interview of hers on Regis and Kelly when they asked her about how excited she was to be voicing Rapunzel. She said exactly what I would have, had I been in her shoes, that she had been dreaming to be a part of a Disney feature as a voice since she was a little girl. I even remember going to see The Little Mermaid as a very young girl when it came out in 1989 and I too wanted to be the voice of a Disney princess.

What are your hopes and aspirations?

~ Lady Jane

When I Think of Home...

Due to my incomparable upbringing, I have always had an active imagination. I grew up in the same house for nineteen years, I had freedom to roam our expansive three and a quarter acre lot with trees, grass, our cats and friends. Many nights were spent gazing up at the stars on the trampoline. Running, climbing, and eating filled my days. My paternal grandfather, who I call Papa, planted fruit trees in the backyard. For seven years at least, my cousins and I enjoyed picking the ripe plums, apricots, and pears. Our saliva, sufficient enough to clean them allowed us to move onto our next adventure.

Even when I was a little girl, I dreamed of bringing my children to the home I grew up in to play on the swing set in the backyard, to show them that with enough sweat they could climb the walls with their feet, slide down the stairs on an old mattress or fall asleep on the living room couch as the din of family chatter in the kitchen wafted through the house.

My dream came to an end in 2006. I had no children yet and my parents were being forced out to rebuild a dying company that my father had put his life into. No longer can I bring my children to that home to see their Gigi and Papa and play with cousins uninterrupted in the basement, play a round of 9-hole golf around the house or come over for Sunday dinners.

I hate it when people say, "Let it go" or "It was a long time ago", that doesn't make me feel any better. It doesn't make feel any better to believe that my parents are giving another family the opportunity to make memories in that house too. As childish as this sounds, it was my house first!

The song, "Our House" by Madness, perfectly illustrates the kind of home I had. Needless to say it has become our anthem for my family. We even used it on a video montage for a family reunion.

Father wears his Sunday best

Mother's tired she needs a rest

The kids are playing up downstairs

Sister's sighing in her sleep

Brother's got a date to keep

He can't hang around

Our house, in the middle of our street

Our house, in the middle or our...

Our house it has a crowd

There's always something happening

And it's usually quite loud

Our mum she's so house-proud

Nothing ever slows her down

And a mess is not allowed

Our house, in the middle of our street

Our house, in the middle or our...

Our house, in the middle of our street

Our house, in the middle or our...

Something tells you that you've got to get away from it

Father gets up late for work

Mother has to iron his shirt

Then she sends the kids to school

Sees them off with a small kiss

She's the one they're going to miss

In lots of ways

Our house, in the middle of our street

Our house, in the middle or our...

I remember way back then when everything was true and when

We would have a very good time such a fine time

Such a happy time

And I remember how we'd play simply wasted the day away

Then we'd say nothing would come between us two dreamers

Father wears his Sunday best

Mother's tired she needs a rest

The kids are playing up downstairs

Sister's sighing in her sleep

Brother's got a date to keep

He can't hang around

Our house, in the middle of our street

Our house, in the middle or our street

Our house, in the middle of our street

Our house, in the middle or our...

Our house, was our castle and our keep

Our house, in the middle of our street

Our house, that was where we used to sleep

Our house, in the middle of our street

Our house, in the middle of our street

I loved my house, still do to this day. I've even thought of knocking on the door just to ask if I could look around. I wonder what stories my house would tell me since my family's been gone? Don't you wish if you just pressed your ear up against the walls hard enough you could hear everything the house has been through?

Monday's Child

Do you know the poem, "Monday's Child"? It was my earliest memory of reading. My mother had one of those Little Golden Books full of nursery rhymes and that one was always my favorite.

Monday's Child

Monday's child is fair of face,

Tuesday's child is full of grace,

Wednesday's child is full of woe,

Thursday's child has far to go,

Friday's child is loving and giving,

Saturday's child works hard for his living,

And the child that is born on the Sabbath day

Is bonny and blithe, and good and gay.

I too was born on a Monday and as far as this poem serving as a horoscope goes, it is still true to this day. Even growing up in a hot climate-where the sun shines 345 days of the year-I managed to stay fair. The European roots of my ancestry holding too hard onto me, I suppose. Always jealous of the girls in my class that could tan, I bet they don't get confused with teenagers. That was really embarrassing when I was six months pregnant with my son and working at a high school. I even wore a different ring on my left hand that was more obvious to prove I was in fact a married lady. Speaking of which, I have been married over eight years and have an almost two year old little boy.

My little guy was born on a Tuesday, and he is the most observant little boy I've ever met. I'm not ashamed to admit that I'm a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, or a Mormon as we're more commonly known, I think. And my little boy has been close to heaven since the day he was born. At a young age, he's learned to fold his arms for prayers and says "Bless you" after he or someone else sneezes. My little angel, born on a Tuesday is full of grace.

My husband, was born on a Thursday. When I think back to the poem I chuckle quietly to myself because it is so fitting for my little family of three. When I first met my husband, he wanted to study international business, then he decided to go the route of business management (not that different right?) all while working for a student loan company. Then he got laid off and had to find a job. He doesn't do well with not having anything to do. He came across a company that seemed to fit for him, however menial his tasks seemed. It was while working at this job that he got heavy in economics, specifically the Austrian Economics philosophy of economics (if you are even at all interested, my husband would be so proud first of all and secondly, here is the address http://mises.org/) Then, he decided he wanted to become an Economics teacher. When he realized that he would have to take too many classes to cover an undergrad degree in Economics, the idea of becoming an instructor in the field waned. He, I hope, has found a joy in his current line of work. It would certainly open a lot of doors for him to attend economic conferences with the Mises Institute in his spare time as a hobby. This Thursday's child has far to go and has gone far too.

I will try and post once a week as I work through Natalie Goldberg's "Writing Down the Bones" an excellent book to help the writer who doesn't want to give up on writing. I wish I could say I was this excited to go through her book when I had to for college creative writing class, but here's to trying. I'm somewhat glad that college bookstores are terrible for trying to sell gently used books back, but I probably wouldn't be in possession of half the books I bought if the bookstore took them back.

~ Lady Jane