Rossiter's Relativity Theory of Pediatric Wellness

I think I have found the next subject I'm going to start querying about to major publications in the print media. This one is sure to get me national coverage--medical stories are hot these days. I've formulated my own medical theory about kids. Taking after the proven scientific method, this theory isn't original; rather, an examination of thoughts considered over many years and summarized so well, that someone can just step up and take claim to it. It's my turn in the spotlight everyone. Rossiter's Relatvity Theory of Pediatric Wellness. Sounds all technical and snazzy. The basic concept, though, is very simple: Sick children show increased signs of improving health the closer the proximity to the doctor's office. This theory will probably not be looked upon with favor from the pediatric pharmecuetical companies--after all, it could put them out of business. Why dump a ton of money on Children's Tylenol(tm), Advil(tm), Triaminic(tm) and all that other stuff? Hell, my kids don't even have to be seen by a doctor. I could avoid the co-pays altogether. According to my theory, I simply drive up to the pediatrician's office, walk inside and sit in the waiting area. My kids are cured! Miraculous. I have a long list of documentation to support my theory, but in the interest of time (and your sanity), I will provide only one example to support my case: I drove down to Portland to pick up Mary and her son, Micah, from the airport . Erin's in her booster seat, listening to her Dora the Explorer CD. Typically, this kid talks non-stop. She was practically silent the entire 40-minute trip. "You ok, Erin?" "My tummy hurts." [SIDENOTE:To show my non-biasedness, I will concede that Erin has hypochondriactic tendencies. This is the only kid I know who LIKES going to the doctor and usually has no issue with taking medication. Most times, when she says she has a boo-boo or is "sick", she's messing with us] Something about her today, though, seemed off. Still, other than being quiet, she seemed ok. We got to the airport and waiting for the plane's arrival. "Mommy, my tummy hurts." I patted her head and told her all would be fine. Well, by the time we picked up our friends and got to the car, Erin was pale, crying hysterically, grabbing her stomach and saying, "OW! OW!". WTF? We load her and Micah in the car and the crying doesn't stop. I'm sure my friends are thinking, "This is our welcome to Maine?" Erin starts to hyperventilate slightly at this point. I make a call to the pedicatrician's office. The plan is to take her there on our way back. The closer we get to Auburn, the quieter she becomes. By the 3/4 mark, she's asleep. I decided to let sleeping kids alone and we go home. She's fine for 10 minutes and the crying and clutching starts again. Then, she spikes a fever. After almost 8 years of being a mom (and over 34 years of being the daughter of a nurse), I start to wonder if we're dealing with appendicitis. After giving Erin some Mylanta and some Advil(tm), I make another call. "Bring her in," they said. We left my friends at our house, so I can cart Erin over to the doctor's office. The closer we get, the more color she has, the more animated she becomes. She makes a charming entrance to the office area--smiling, talking, and seeming pretty damn healthy. I'm convinced that one of these days, I'm gonna get arrested for being one of those people who keep claiming their kids is sick, but isn't. The doctor examines Erin as she giggles. I feel somewhat vindicated that he's pressing on her stomach and says he's checking for an inflamed appendix. Also, she has a low grade temp (is it ok for a mom to be relieved that for once, the kid has a temp when I say she does?). The good news: Erin's appendix is just fine. The bad news: She seems to have a mighty big case of gas. Erin gets her sticker and we're on our way home. "Mommy, I was sooooooo good!" she tells me with a beaming expression. All I can do is shake my head. Now, my stomach hurts, and I don't even get a sticker. But, maybe one day, I'll get a Nobel prize or something for my theory. I'm sure there are other parents out there who have stories to support my theory! Back me up on this one, will you?

Old Friends....

In about an hour, Erin and I are heading to Portland Jetport to pick up Mary and Micah--our friends from Ohio. After almost 8 years, we managed to get them out here to visit us in Maine! The timing of their visit couldn't be better, as I'm still smarting some from Heidi's move (ironically to Ohio). Jon and I met Mary as we moved into our apartment in Bowling Green, OH. She lived in the downstairs apartment of this old house in a nice part of town, and were going to be her upstairs neighbors. At the time, she was very pregnant with her son, Micah. Incredibly bright and funnier than hell, this woman was preparing to be a single mother and was proud of it. As a matter of fact, she joked that the apartment Jon and I were moving into upstairs seemed to be fertile ground: she got pregnant while living there, and the couple who lived there before her also welcomed a new bundle of joy. "Don't drink the water," she warned with a smile. About a month or so later, 0n April 7, 1997, Mary had Micah. No more than a month and a half later, I discovered that I was pregnant. Unbelievable. We couldn't have had a better neighbor than Mary. I got to watch a first time mom go through the paces with a newborn. She taught me so much. Exactly 10 months after Micah's birth, on February 7, 1998, Cailyn was born. Mary and I raised our children together, shared frustrations, made each other laugh, and became best friends. Within 6 months of Cailyn's birth, though, Jon and I moved to Maine. I left behind one of the best friends I ever had the pleasure of knowing. We promised each other that we wouldn't lose touch; our friendship would endure. It hasn't been easy. We've only been to Ohio a couple of times, and there was a 6 year gap in between visits. Of course, there's phone calls and emails. Sometimes a few months will pass until either of us can manage to pick up the phone for decent chat. Working and kids makes the time go by too quickly. The last I saw Mary was in May, when I went to visit Jon during his extended trip to Cinci. We drove the 3.5 hours north to see our friend. I was nervous that things would be tense and strained. I learned that time and distance doesn't dull a friendship whatsoever. The moment we saw each other, it was like old times. We only had a few hours at her place, but really pushed the issue of her and Micah visiting us. She's wanted to since we moved, but she had just started going back to school to get her degree. In spite of the fact that she lived on her own and had a young son, she became a respiratory therapist. Mary bought her father's house and is doing a fantastic job! It took a year of saving up time and money, but they are finally coming to Maine! Now, I just have to confiscate her return tickets!!! ;) PS: Thanks to those of you sending your congrats on my new position. It means the world to me! Later gators!

Update: New job!

Well, I was offered the editorial job today. I am now an editor at mommiesmagazine.com. Click on "meet the editor" under the Mommy Fun section...Things are just getting started up, but for the first time, I will have a say in submissions, content, etc. Of course, I need to start drumming up some readers and business, but that's for another day. More details tomorrow. I'm off to work!

Stepping out and pushing forward

When I left teaching more than two years ago, I had no idea I would pursue my dream of writing. I walked away from the classroom because my girls were sick. Between the ear infections, strep throat and other an infant who had reflux, Jon and I made significant contributions to our pediatrician's kids' college funds. I had to make a choice between my students, over 130 of them, or my own kids--really, there was no choice. I loved my students, as much as they drove me nuts, but my own kids are my lifeblood. I just wasn't able to give my all to my own girls. So, I walked away from the career I thought I'd be with forever. The summer before I left teaching, I emailed the editor-in-chief of the Lewiston Sun Journal with a little humor piece I wrote. I didn't really expect to hear back. But, he sent my piece to one of the other editors. Ursula contacted me and asked me if I was willing to write a story for the Living section about kids and weddings. I figured "What the hell?". I wrote the story and they loved it. Ursula said that if I ever left teaching, to let her know. I laughed at her. She must have known something I didn't. About two months after I walked out of the classroom for the last time, I dropped her an email. "Guess What? I left teaching. I'd love to write again for you." Writing was always a secret passion of mine. Even though I was an English major in school, I kept my writings very close to me. They were an outlet to deal with my frustrations, heartbreaks and confusion. Professors would ask me why I didn't pursue writing more seriously; again, I laughed them off. I've been a "writer" for almost three years now. It's a career filled with many highs and lows--mostly lows. It's not for the weak-hearted. Rejection becomes so common, that it stings less each time one of those form letters arrive. Oh, the sting never disappears completely. I've developed a tough skin. Still, there are more days than not where I wonder what the hell I'm doing and who the hell I think I am by claiming to be a writer. Then, a day like yesterday happens. I get word from an editor of a national publication that she loves my idea for a story. My college alumni magazine is interested in having me write some pieces for them. Lastly, an online parenting magazine is set to offer me an editorial position for their publication. Although none of these gigs are set in stone, yet, it is a big step forward for me. I'm finally developing the courage to actually pursue my dream and not just wait for it to happen. I've been furiously revising chapters of the book I've been working on for what seems like forever. I won't make my deadline that I set earlier in the summer, but I'm well on my way to completing it now--which is something I never thought I'd do. I'm learning that the only way that I can advance is by putting myself out there and saying, "Hey, I have something you need...that your readers need." For a girl with shaky self-confidence, that's a giant step. Before I finish this little ramble, I want to take a second and say a huge thank you to my husband, Jon. He keeps me focused and calm (no easy feat!) and encourages me every day. Also, thanks to Heidi for being my biggest cheerleader! Her advice is priceless. Yesterday, my mom told me that she was proud of me for being brave enough to put myself out there and do what I want with my life. Perhaps I'm really on my way...

What's new in Maine?

First, many thanks to those of you who sent your thoughts and compliments regarding my last post. I think that will be a moment that will stay with me for the rest of my life. The past week and a half have buzzed by. Before I left for our VT vacation, I commented that my freelance writing jobs assignments had slowed down considerably. I wasn't complaining, really, because I should be working on the memoir essays that I talked with an agent in NYC about. I've made some progress, though. Anyway, while I was gone, I literally got slammed with new assignments. What's that saying, "be careful what you wish for?" One of my assignments was taking photos for a profile of a local hot air balloonist. Each year here in our town, we have a huge balloon festival. The paper does a whole section on it, and I was asked to contribute three stories and some pictures! Wow! Here's a bit of my work--still working on the camera settings and such, but I have to say that these didn't come out too badly! Walter and Gayle getting the balloon ready to go. It's about 6:30 am. We had to meet at the ass-crack of dawn, but it was worth it! Time for Launch! For such a large object, it floats so smoothly (yeah, I wasn't in the thing, but it looked that way!) On the chase, which was a riot! Driving along backroads, I found places in Auburn I had no idea existed. Beautiful! The clouds broke away about 40 minutes into the balloon's flight. Sometimes I just marvel at the job I have.... Jon says I that I have to get in one of these things now. I've always said, "Never!", but then again, I said that about parasailing, too. Still, I went during my honeymoon. Isn't it amazing what some people with do for love? As for getting in a hot-air balloon, all I can say is that if Walter and his crew are running the show, I'd consider it. They were that fantastic. Now, that would make for some great shots... For those of you who know Heidi from Heidi's Daze, I can tell you that she and her family made it to Ohio fine--although a bit worn out from the long drive and the stresses that come with the move. Their furniture and other stuff got there earlier than expected (only by a day, but, hey, it's better than late!). She's hoping to be back online within the week. I know I miss her, and her blogging buddies will be thrilled to have her back! I have some pics to download for a story I just turned in, so I suppose I'd better go do that. More later, I hope!

An uneventful trip...

"It's been a pretty uneventful trip." With the exception of the typical sibling squabbles between Miss C and Miss E, the four plus hours we had been in the car passed by without too much stress. My recently purchased Ipod and the little gadget that allows us to play endless tunes through my Grand Am stereo served us well: a playlist for Mom and Dad and one for the girls kept everyone happy, for the most part. There was no Wiggles music within earshot, so the trio of people over the age of three were thrilled. We had reached the worst part of the trip: the Maine Turnpike. So close to home, yet still an hour or so away. There's nothing to look at and everyone is restless at this point. Fortunately, traffic was flowing quickly and we were making excellent time. We rounded one of the few, wide corners of the highway when we all we saw was dust. "What the hell?" I asked. Jon hit the brakes and the question was wordlessly answered. A dark SUV was tumbling off the shoulder an into the grassy shoulder area. "Holy Shit." I grabbed the cell phone and my fingers punched in 9-1-1. I prayed that the words I spoke weren't an incoherent jumble and that I gave enough information to get a squad to arrive quickly. The responder already knew about the accident--someone else must have called before me. Our car stopped abruptly a short distance from the wreck. Jon jumped out of the car and I looked over my shoulder. "Girls, do not move! Stay in the car. Daddy and I will be right back." Cailyn cried out a little, but I swung my door open and followed my husband out onto the side of the highway. I wouldn't consider myself a coward, but ordinarily I avoid seeing blood or injury. I don't even watch medical shows, because I can get a bit squeamish. Still, all my head kept saying was "If it were my me and my kids, I'd want help." What was once an SUV looked crumpled and burned out of control. A woman and a girl of about 10 stood nearby while two other men, other passersby who stopped to help, were calling out to them. All Jon and I could hear was something about "Gotta find the toy." Toy? I stopped short, glanced around and thought, "They're screaming about a toy?" Jon kept going toward them. "Here! He's over here!" Way up on the grassy embankment, at least 50 feet from the SUV was a boy. The two men ran up and removed him carefully from the hill and the scattered debris from both within and ouside the vehicle. Finally, we reached them. The boy was conscious and surprisingly alert, albeit cut up and bit bloody. Mom and sister talked with another woman, a nurse, who stopped. I wasn't even sure they realized that the boy was found. One of the men who found him was an EMT and talked into a crackling radio. The other man peppered the boy with questions, to see how extensively he was injured. My contribution to the scene: "Do you want something to help clean him up a little?" Someone said yes, and I rushed back through the building smoke and grabbed a handful of napkins and anything else I could find that I figured would help out. My girls were whimpering when I got back. I assured them that all was ok, and that I would come back again. "Don't go Mommy!" Cailyn pleaded. I told her to take care of her sister until I got back in a few minutes and off I went again. The napkins were used to help clean off the boy's face as Mom and sister sat near him. A few more moments passed and Jon decided to move our car even farther away, because the SUV was really raging now. "Stay with the girls!" I told him as he hurried to the car. All I could do was look at this boy. He was 7--Cailyn's age. I know they asked him to give his name. In spite of the trauma that just occurred, he spoke out right away. I provided little help, so I double-checked with the professionals there if they needed anything else (right...). When I heard the EMT comment that the SUV was probably gonna "go" soon, I made a dash to get back to my family. The car spewed thick, black smoke. It popped and hissed and the flames shot higher. I found out that this "big girl" can still move, even in a pair of summer sandals. When I closed the door to our car, the cool air of the AC was a relief and my girls cried. I told them that I promised I'd be back and I don't break promises. Jon and I only took the briefest of moments to exhange looks of disbelief before I barked at him to get out of there before the truck blew. The next day, we looked for news on the boy, wanting to know how the family was doing. Jon couldn't believe that not a single local station covered the story. "I see stuff all the time in the news about accidents on the turnpike," he commented. I kept scanning the news websites in our area and finally shook my head. "We won't find anything about it." "Why not?" I turned to him. "First of all, they didn't have to shut the highway down. No traffic. But, most of all, nobody died." Jon said nothing. "It's not news without a traffic jam or a death."

Homeward Bound

Going back to Maine tomorrow. Am bummin' big time. For the first time in ages, we all had a blast here at my folks. The kids were a pleasure to be with (most of the time), Jon and I got to spend some quality time together and I didn't even argue with Mom. Time just goes by too quickly. We spent from 9:45 am to around 6:30 PM at Six Flags' Great Escape park in Lake George, NY. All of us (grandparents, Jon and me and the girls) had a good time. There was hardly any whining, the weather was ideal and the lines weren't bad at all. Jon's just asked me to go for a last night swim, so I'll sign off for now--will update more when we return home tomorrow afternoon. Night all!

Vacation all I ever wanted...

I can't believe that our time in Vermont is almost over. Those of you who go with family back home to the parents to visit know that, at time, it can be...well...a challenge. However, this week has been totally relaxing for the four of us. The kids are loving the pool; they're going to have a hard time going back to the life they knew before having a pool right outside the back door at their disposal (so will Mommy and Daddy, truth be told). During the trip, I've managed to get a bit of work done on my writing, as well as some crocheting. I've almost mastered the granny square, but still need to follow the pattern in order to get it just right. The weekend will be busy, after a restful week. Today is the town Variety Day, which as been going on in my hometown for more years than I can even count. It's mostly just a big flea market, but it has music, games and food for kids, too. Then, it will be some downtime at the house (swimming, I'm sure) for a while. Tonight all of us (grandparents included) go to a community supper. Tommorow is the big day the kids have been waiting for. A trip to The Great Escape in Lake George, NY. I've been going to this park since it was tiny Storytown in the 70s. Now, the park is owned by Great America and it's huge. My dad is off from the farm tomorrow, so we get to enjoy it all together as a family. The kids will be exhausted, but it should be fun. Then, we leave Mon morning. Time flies, as they say. Since I've been gone, I've secured 4 writing/photo gigs, so when I get home I'll be plenty busy. One of the writing groups I'm part of (Momwriters on yahoo) is running a 4-week workshop for memoir. I met my goal and got another chapter revised/completed. Here is the link to the completed essay: Voices from the Third Floor Those of you who read this blog regularly will know I've posted the story before, but it's now significantly revised and polished. I've submitted it to Long Story Short online magazine, where one of my stories was published this month. We'll see what happens. Ok, need to get ready to go. I'll try to post again before we make the drive back up to Maine! Hope everyone out there is doing well!

You can always go home again

Neat saying, really. For some, I know that's not always the case, but I'm very lucky to be able to come home for a visit when we feel like it. I'll be honest here: I hate the drive down and back. My folks' house in Vermont is about 5 1/2 hours from ours in Maine. Ok, it's better now that the girls are a little older, but they still get pretty squirrelly in the back seat. We haven't invested in one of those dvd players for the car, although Santa may get that added to the list when the time is right. However, once we get here, the visit goes well, and so far this one has been great! We were in the pool within 30 minutes of arriving. Grilled some burgers for dinner, had ice cream. Not a bad way to spend an afternoon and evening. Jon and I even managed to go for our own swim around 11pm (it's pretty warm in the house--although there is AC in the bedrooms). I forgot how much I like a nice, quiet night swim. We're gonna try to do that as much as we can while we're down here for the week. Our 9th anniversary is Wed and I'm trying to figure out what to do. Mom and Dad have offered to take the kids. Just not sure what to do; guess I'll have to go online and see if I can find a nice place to stay for the night for us. 9 years....wow... Ok, I'm gonna clean up a little around my mom's while she's at work. The surprise might give her a stroke, though ;) Oh, yes, I had to unravel my entire sweater last night. First, I messed up on a row, then figured out that the blasted thing was going to be too small for the baby. Back to the drawing board again. Sigh. At least it should go faster this time. Have a great day!

What am I thinking?

I must be crazy. I do a couple of little crochet projects and my brain goes into overdrive. Somehow, I must have switched with someone brimming with confidence. I started a baby sweater to go with the booties and hat. Actually, so far, it's coming out nicely--so I guess I have the hands of someone else, too. Still, I think I'm going to drop off the other two items while the new baby can wear them comfortably, because I'm not sure how long this burst of skill is going to last or how long it will take me to finish. I should go get some writing done tonight, but my guess is that I'm either going to work on the sweater or continue to play Star Wars III: Revenge of the Sith on my Xbox. Hell, I've only had the game rented for 3 weeks...I should probably finish it during this lifetime. Besides, Jon's still two levels ahead of me on the game, and that simply isn't acceptable. Later!

A shameless plug for myself

All right, I'm sinking about as low as it goes by grossly misusing my blog to link to an article I wrote for my Suite101.com column, Raising Girls. But, hey, it's my blog and I suppose I can do what I want with it. Boys vs. Girls: Which are easier to raise? Does it even matter? The column is more for me to stay on a regular writing schedule and hopefully attract more of a readership. I have fun writing about the family and our "issues" anyway. Check it out and if you have anything to say about it, comment away!

An only child's sister...

Those of you who read Heidi's Daze probably know that she and I are best friends. You also probably know that she is packing up and getting ready to move back closer to her hometown. I couldn't be happier for her and her family. I'm a little less happy that Cincinatti, OH is over 600 miles away from Maine (but, then again, Maine seems to be 600 miles from just about anywhere ;) ) When I met Heidi almost seven years ago, she was still a kid--and I mean no disrespect by that!! She and her then-fiance (now husband) were about to graduate from college and then get married soon afterwards. Meanwhile, Jon and I had moved to the next phase of our lives: married, new homeowners and new baby. When Jon and I lived in Ohio, we were the "babies" of our circle of friends. When Heidi came into my life, my role changed. I felt the transition deep within me. When Matt was joining the company Jon works at, he and Heidi came over for a dinner, sort of as a way to get to know each other. I felt at home with this girl, although she was kinda quiet. I knew how nervous she must have felt and how overwhelming it must have been. I think I assured her that all would be fine. I didn't see her for a while after that first dinner. The details on how we became so close are a bit fuzzy. They moved out here in the summer of 1999 and somehow, we just started hanging out together. There was nothing planned or anything, we were just hanging out a bit. She adored my daughter and helped me out when I needed anything. She turned to me for advice about many things. But, mostly, we talked about kids. I could tell she wanted to start her own family.. A while later, her wish came true. Then, she would say, "Oh, I wish we were pregnant together, so we can experience this together." Four months later, baby Erin was on the way for me. Heidi and Matt became Erin's godparents. Over the years, we've shared almost everything about our lives. I've told her things I couldn't tell anyone else--and sometimes it was about things that I didn't even want to admit to. She accepts me completely for who I am, and I know that I'm not the easiest person in the world to deal with at times. I can count on her for anything. I also went through a life changing moment because of Heidi. I almost lost her once. As I sat in the ICU and looked at my best friend so ill, I kept telling her (ok, warning her), "Don't you dare leave us...don't you dare leave me. Matt needs you. Your family needs you. And, I need you." As any best friend would do, she listened--and she came back to us. We've had a couple of great years together since then. I've been working from home, we're raising our girls together, which is fun and tiresome at the same time. I've always wanted a friend like her. I don't have many friends, mostly because I don't trust easily. There are many acquaintances in my life, but I can't count on one hand how many true friends I've had. It is sacred to me, this type of friendship. But, this time, Heidi's leaving and no matter how much I might want to say, "Don't you dare leave me!", this is one time that I have to keep my mouth shut (and Heidi will tell you, that's no easy feat!). In the back of my mind, I've always known she'd go back to the Midwest, I just didn't think that almost 7 years would go by so quickly. But, all I have to do is look at our kids and it's obvious that time does fly. Whatever Heidi sets out to do, I know she will be successful. For those who will enter into her life soon, I offer this advice: Heidi may seem quiet and shy--if she stays that way, you know you haven't reached the true woman inside. The quickest way to Heidi's good side is some good chocolate and/or French Vanilla coffee from DD. She has little tolerance for narrowmindedness--she is very openminded and willing to all sides of an issue before making a judgment. She is sensitive, but strong. There's a lot more, but it would take up too much space. Heidi,I wish you didn't have to go, but I couldn't be more thrilled that you're now starting the next phase of your life. Thank you for being part of my life, being my sister and for leaving a lasting imprint in my life. And, no matter where you go, I'll still need you. Hope you can deal with that. Best wishes and luck. Bon Voyage!

My newest hobby

I will admit these aren't the greatest pictures in the world, but at least they give an idea of what I've been up to lately with my hands. It seems incredible that someone who is as anti-craft as I am (I can't even draw a stick figure correctly) would want to pick up something like crochet. My best friend, Heidi, started knitting months ago--she's gotten quite good at it, actually. When she first started, she was kind enough to let me profile her for a feature the paper was doing on the rising popularity of knitting. Truly a best friend, she let me interview her as a beginner and even allowed one of the photographers to snap a few shots. I envied Heidi because she was creating something with her hands. Naturally, she asked me why I hadn't taken up knitting, too. "Anything that requires me to put two needles in my hand and move them around sounds too dangerous to me," I replied. It just didn't seem like a great idea for me. But, my mom crochets--has since I was a little girl. I never asked her to show me how to do it while I was growing up. I was too busy being a tomboy, I guess. Mom was probably stunned when, after watching her crochet for the first time in ages, I asked her if she could show me. It's taken me since May to start to get the hang of it. Mom could only show me the very basics and I've had to go from there. I've purchased "Crochet for Dummies", watched stitching videos online and just practiced a whole lot. I'm sill not very good, but at least now I'm making stuff that's recognizable. Below are a few pics of my progress. This is one of my first swatches. Apparently, I can't make squares or rectangles very well. I lean toward the trapezoid. How creative of me, eh? This is a purse I made for Cailyn. She seems to like it. Of course, I had to make another one for Erin. I just altered the size and shape a little, so they could tell them apart. So far, no fights. I made these booties today for a friend's baby. Not bad for my first pair: at least they look like booties. I do have to redo the one of them, as they are different sizes. Still can't talk and crochet...sigh.

Just my luck...

Greetings! Well, after an unsuccessful bout at work last night, I decided to try to head over to the library this morning to get some work done while my sitter was watching Erin. Off I went with notebook and reference book in hand. I decided not to use the laptop to see if actually writing by hand would help stir the creative juices. I walk into the library, excited to have 90 minutes before I had to go to Wally-World for groceries and then go home. I don't even make it half way into the Auburn Library (which, by the way, is temporarily housed in the Auburn (S)Mall until their renovations are done next year) when I hear loud singing and clapping. It's family sing-a-long day in the children's section, which is not isolated from the rest of the room. Sigh. I move to the back of the large space, where's there's individual desks for "Quiet Study". I still hear "Yankee Doodle", "Puff the Magic Dragon" and other family favorites floating toward me. After 40 minutes of fighting the distractions, I left and went shopping. I'll try again tonight. On a happier note, here is the link to my story at Long Story Short Magazine: My first orginal published story! Took a while for the editors to get the link working correctly. So, please let me know if this is an active link. Some of you have read this story before from the blog, but it's cool to see it published somewhere else. Plus, it's my first story that is not a non-fiction feature about someone else that has been published. Ok, I'm off to try to make a baby hat and booties for a friend of mine's baby girl. Later Gators

This is why writing sucks

I am brain dead. That's why I'm here. Any of you lucky people who are out there reading this, I apologize ahead of time and warn that this is my version of a rant, a bitch, a whine--call it whatever you like. If you want to skip over this, I don't blame you, because I wish I wasn't here, either. For almost an hour, I have been sitting in front of my laptop. DH has been with the kids (although I hear them in the other room). The big flashing cursor is on my blank Microsoft Word screen, keeping its own rhythm so well that I can just about hear it saying *blink* Fuck *blink* you! over and over again I haven't been able to write a coherent thought or sentence for any of my work. Characters are running around my brain in a friggin fictional free for all, but for some inexplicable reason, they won't come out to play on paper/word processor page. Maybe it's because they're my characters that they're being stubborn. I suppose all of an author's characters share a bit of her own personality flaws. Figures that I can't even escape bits and pieces of me in the people I create. All I want to do is write, and when I go to do it, I can't. A horrible position to be in. I won't call it writer's block, because it's not a lack of ideas that's gonna drive me to the looney bin. Instead, I think it's too many crowding up the grey matter cells I have left. Jon, ever the practical engineer, says, "Just pick one idea and go with that. Just write about that." I know he's right, but I can't get my thoughts and fingers to cooperate. So, I sit here and bitch instead, hoping that maybe typing something--anything--will help me get on the right track. Right now, I'm going to say, "Fuck you, cursor--I'm trying again" and am off to try to get something down before I turn in for the night.

Odds and Ends

After the long holiday weekend, which was lovely, we're trying to get back on some sort of routine. Summer, though, seems to have other plans. Since today is sort of a catch up day, I figured I'd do the same with my blog. So, here's an update on some of the things going on in my crazy life. 1. For the first time in ages, I am sitting in a clean place in my house. This is not to say that I'm a slob, but let's just say that for years, clutter has been my friend. I'll clean up the crap, and then it just comes back. With four of us (including two young ones) in the house, there will always be some type of disorder. However, on Saturday, I simply said "ENOUGH!" So, the family spent the day cleaning, organizing and pitching stuff. The downstairs of the house looks great--all we have left is the upstairs bedrooms and the basement, where I'm tempted to just drop an H-bomb and call it a total loss. Working from home puts me in a viscious circle: I know I should be working on my writing, but the house is a mess, so I'm distracted, but I don't have a lot of time to really clean well, so I just throw up my hands in disgust. Then, I get stressed out. Fun, huh? Now, I just suck it up and say, "Do what you can, when you can." Working in a clean house certainly is better, though, I must confess. 2. Speaking of the writing, here's where I am with that. The past two weeks I've taken a break from the mansucripts and have been focusing on getting some article queries out there. I got 5 assignments last week for the next two months from the paper I usually write for, plus an online trade magazine that I'm now a regular at. In addition, one of my memoir pieces "Sing Us a Song" got accepted into the Long Story Short online literary magazine. It will go live tomorrow. Here is their homepage link: Long Story Short Literary Magazine The site is pretty cool, so go check it out when you can. With the good comes the "not so good" (won't say bad, here): I got a rejection from The Christian Science Monitor for an article proposal about standardized education. I have about 7 other queries out there that I'm waiting on--which is the worst part of writing. I'm also trying to come up with a good place to put my manuscript work for an online portfolio...Yes, it's called avoidance of work, folks. 3. Cailyn is enjoying day camp--THANK GOD--and Erin is enjoying her time at home with me for the summer. I feel badly sometimes because I work during the day and she has to entertain herself. I do have someone come down and take her out for a few hours, but there are times I feel like I should do more with her. But, by working in the day, I leave time open in the evening when Cailyn gets home, so I can spend more time with the whole family. Deep down, I know I can't be a social director (nor do I want to be) for a 7 and 3 year old, but balancing them, writing and the house drives me loony sometimes, nevermind what it does to my marriage. Poor Jon works so hard, too...and at times it feels like two ships passing in the night. But, enough bitching from me. I really have no right. 4. Apparently, I didn't comment on my quiz results in my last post re: the strawberry ice cream. Thanks to a careful reader for pointing that out. I don't totally agree with the outcome--but, what's the use in arguing, right? I will say that I'm sweet and can seem a bit shy/retiring. But, those that know me know what a crock of shit that is! LOL Ok, I've procrastinated long enough, I suppose. Off to work. Just wanted to update and let the world know I haven't fallen off of it; yet.

My ice cream flavor is....

Hmm, I'm not even a big strawberry ice cream fan...Although, you give me some chocolate dipped strawberries, well, now you're talking!! Still, this is what the quiz I took said about me:

You Are Strawberry Ice Cream

A bit shy and sensitive, you are sweet to the core. You often find yourself on the outside looking in. Insightful and pensive, you really understand how the world works. You are most compatible with chocolate chip ice cream.

What Flavor Ice Cream Are You?

Paul Anka Rocks

So, here's a conversation I had with DH, Jon, the day before yesterday: Jon: So, I heard something interesting on the radio this morning. Me: (eating dinner) Hmm? Jon I'm not sure what it says about me, I'm either really getting old or I'm losing my mind. Me: (he's got my attention now) Ok, what was it. Jon: Paul Anka has a new CD out. Me: Paul Anka? As in THE Paul Anka? Jon: (eating a chicken wing) Yeah. Tim and Jamie [popular local radio hosts] played a clip from this CD. (He pulls out his wallet and finds a piece of paper} Me: (not believing what I'm seeing) You wrote it down? Jon (grins sheepishly) He did this swing version of Van Halen's 'Jump'! Me: Are you serious? Jon Yeah. The CD's called Rock Swings. He does all of these rock classics in big band style. We sit in silence for a few moments. Jon: What? You like swing and big band music... Me (nodding) Yeah, it just sounds....Paul Anka? (I start to laugh) Jon: Ok, well, you need to hear it So, after the dishes are done, and the girls are put to bed, out comes the computer and to ITunes he goes. He brings up the CD and starts to play 'Jump'. Jon: Ok, at first I wasn't impressed at all. I thought the whole things was kinda weird, but the more I listened to it...I don't know. Me: (listening) It's a little funny, but I have to admit... Jon: See! It's pretty good. The thing that practically had me peeing in my pants though, is this song. You need to hear it to appreciate it, so here's a link Listen to some smooth music here OMG! This album is so mellow and smooth and borderline geeky it's cool. I've always been a swing music fan, but to hear all of these hard hitting songs re-arranged, well...it's something! So, honey, I apologize in public for looking at you like you had three heads and laughing at you at the dinner table. But, you were right about one thing...this does say something about you (and me). I think we're getting old....

Looking back on my life through a me-me

I stole this meme from Heidi, who stole it from two others on her blog--so, I guess this is some hot stuff! Taking a trip down amnesia lane should be fun; let's get started! 10 years ago: I was wrapping up classes and studying for my comprehensive exams in order to graduate with my Masters degree in Literacy Education from Bowling Green State University in Ohio. In May, I became engaged to my wonderful boyfriend, Jon, after "dating" for only about 6 or so months. Jon and I moved into a new apartment together and started making plans for our wedding in Vermont, the following summer. As stressful as it was then, I look back very fondly on those times now. We were young, in love, and just starting out. 5 years ago: Jon and I had moved to Maine two years before (in 1998). We were now parents of our first daughter, Cailyn, who has turned two in February. Jon had a new job at P&G in Maine, was travelling a lot and we were settled into our new home: a house! This time, 5 years ago, we were preparing to celebrate our 4th wedding anniversay. I was teaching Literacy Skills and was the Director of the Learning Center at Poland Regional High School--the first new school in Maine in a generation. At the time, I thought it was the job of my dreams. I enjoyed it, but something was missing... 1 year ago: Cailyn wrapped up kindergarten and Erin was home with me full time, after I left teaching the previous winter. I was writing, in earnest, for the Lewiston Sun Journal now and starting to wonder if this writing thing would turn into more than just a hobby. Jon and I were about to celebrate our 8th wedding anniversary and we took our girls to Acadia National Park in Bar Harbor--a first for all of us. Here's a pic of my two little adventurers. We were surprised at how much they enjoyed the trip, especially since neither of them are the outdoor-type (like Mother/like daughters!). They want to go back this year and we hope we can swing another trip up to the area in late August, before school goes back in session. Yesterday: A lazy day for me and Erin. Cailyn was dropped off for the camp bus and Erin and I hung around at home. I spent the day trying to get out from under the laundry that has piled up down in the basement (all clean, just not put away) and also worked on trying to get my writing projects organized. After spending a while trying to see where I was at, this is what I found on my project roster:

Three book proposals that I am either writing or revising

A short story that I am looking to put into children's book form

Four short features for the paper and a website I work for

An online column

Six features ideas I've sent out to publishers and waiting to hear back on

Then, of course, there's the blog and my business website I need to maintain

So, yesterday was productive if for the only reason that I know why I'm going insane. Today: Clean house a little and maybe get in touch with Heidi, so the girls can play together. Jon and I are heading out for a few hours tonight to have some "us" time and I need to finish up a sidebar for the paper. Tomorrow: No idea, yet. Hopefully will get a chapter of one of my books finished. Ok, hopefully will get a chapter started. LOL 5 snacks I enjoy: popcorn, pretzels, hostess cupcakes, chips and salsa and chocolate 5 songs I know all the words to: Almost any Phil Collins song, but I'll say "In the Air Tonight", "Smooth", by Rob Thomas and Santana, "In My Life", the Beatles, "Only the Good Die Young," Billy Joel and the majority of broadway shows. LOL 5 things I'd do with a 100 mill: Pay off my bills, put a nice sum away for my girls, pay off my parents bills, invest/save some and travel with Jon! 5 locations I'd like to run away to: The Maine coast (my own little beach house), Quebec City, Ireland, A nice, well appointed cabine in a lake on the mountains of Vermont and the Caribbean. 5 bad habits: emotional eating, biting my nails, worrying about things I have little control over, beating myself up, being outspoken at the wrong times 5 things I like doing: write, read, listen to music, spend time with my family and crochet 5 things I would never wear: Um, micro mini skirts, a fully-sequined dress, a bikini, a nose ring, a tongue ring. 5 TV shows I like: West Wing, Mythbusters, documentaries, Mad About You and the news 5 movies I like: Major League, Moulin Rouge, Star Wars, Gone with the Wind, Somewhere in Time 5 famous people I'd like to meet: Martin Sheen, Bill Clinton, Robin Williams, Harrison Ford and Keith Lockhart of the Boston Pops 5 biggest joys at the moment: Watching my girls enjoy each other (which is off and on, most of the time), spending some quiet time with Jon, looking forward to going to Vermont for a week and those little moments I grab that I can be alone. 5 favorite toys: my laptop, our TiVo, my IPod, my digital camera and one toy I won't mention here! LOL LOL Phew! If you're still with me, you're a trooper. Sorry it got so long!

My Book Me-Me

Ok, thanks to Heidi I was tagged and now am "It" for one of these blasted Me-Me thingy-doodles. So, true to my word of not being a spoil-sport, I did it. You'd think that a writer wouldn't mind sharing her ideas about books, but there's almost so much I could say, that this proved to be harder than it should have been. Still here goes: 1. How many books do you own? I can't count. Seriously, it's not because I'm lazy, it's just that it's too many and would take to damn long. I have floor to ceiling bookshelves in my living room--which I did sort through last year--that hold a lot. Then, I have all my teaching books downstairs in boxes and shelves, put away in storage in case I ever go back into the classroom. Then, there are the children's books! OMG, they are everywhere. It's no wonder my kids love reading. They have a library right here. But, somehow, they still manage to love to go to the library and check out books. Also, there are few times I will leave a bookstore without getting something. Everyone has an addiction, and I guess books are one of mine. 2. The Last Book I Bought: Hmm, Crocheting for Dummies. A switch for me, since I usually get writing instruction, strategy or business books lately. My mom has been crocheting for years, as well as my MIL, and I decided to see if I could try it. Mom showed me a few of the basics, but being one of the least crafty people in the world (Martha Stewart definitely doesn't live here!), I needed a bit more instruction. Off to the bookstore I went. 3. Last Book I read: Currently, I am reading Write from Life: Turning your personal experiences into compelling stories by Meg Files. Makes sense since I'm almost elbow deep into my memoir piece. Of course, I read kids' books almost every night before bedtime for the girls. I am supposed to be reading The Mermaid Chair by Sue Monk Kidd for my book club, but haven't picked it up, yet! (YIKES!) 4. The last book I read and completed for me: I am going to exclude writing books, because that is for work. The last one I can think of is Life Expectancy by Dean Koontz. OMG! What a ride. If you're scared of clowns, you may want to pass this one by, but I think it is a must-read. I'm not much into thrillers/mysteries and this was my first experience with Koontz. I was impressed! Kept me riveted throughout, and that is saying something. 5. Five books that mean a lot to me: Damn, this is the hard one, because it is too hard to narrow down to five. But, I will try: a. Ramona the Brave by Beverly Cleary. I can still remember this book being read to me when I was in 2nd grade. I couldn't wait until 2:30 every afternoon, so that I could find out what happened next. I had been read many books before this, but this was my first experience with chapter books. Plus, it's still funny, even today. Maybe that's because I have kids now. b. The Little House Books by Laura Ingalls Wilder. I read the entire series so many times, I could practically recite chapters by memory. In my mind, I was Laura--I had the perfect life, was full of spunk and my days were filled with adventure. Yes, I liked the show, too. The books, though, touched someplace deep within me and I grew up with the characters. c. Gone with the Wind by Margaret Mitchell. I read this book in the 8th grade. As a Civil War buff, it was simply one of the books I got my hands on about one of my favorite topics. Sure, I thought it was cool to carry around a book that was a few inches think (can you say, geek?! LOL), but it was the first great romance I ever read. This was my first venture into adult literature. d. The Lovely Bones by Alice Sebold. One of my more recent reads. I literally finished it in a day. Put simply, this is the kind of writing I dream of finding within myself someday. Characters that the reader attaches to right away, plots that intertwine almost effortlessly, and a conclusion that pulls on the heartstrings a little. e. The Bible. Besides being the basis of my faith, it is just full of incredible stories. I've never read the book cover to cover, but I've always wanted to do that. Instead, I usually page through the books and see what stands out to me on a particular day. I wonder if going from beginning to end, in order, will change my experience with this incredible book? Ok, that's it. I won't tag anyone right now...because I'm a nice person. But, beware, you never know when I may strike.

Essay/Short Story: The Best Belated Birthday Present

Here's a little piece I wrote this morning after almost no sleep this morning. I'm not sure why it came out the way it did or why I like it, except that it seems to capture the memories just right. Maybe I just need to write on 3 hours of sleep! I did submit this to an edition of Chicken Soup for the Soul (for sisters). This story has been in my mind for a while and I finally typed it out today. I am also thinking of adapting this to a children's story (either just as a story or as a picture book manuscript). Any thoughts or comments are greatly appreciated! Thanks! ************************* The Best Belated Birthday Present “I’m going to have a baby sister! I’m going to have a baby sister!” my three-year-old daughter, Cailyn, screeched as she jumped around the room. I looked at my husband, Jon, who was uncertain about telling our only child that she was about to become an “oldest”. After a few moments more of practically flying through the house, Cailyn stopped short right in front of me. She reached her hand out and touched my stomach. “Is she in there?” I put my hand on top of hers and smiled. “The baby is growing inside of Mommy, yes. But, Cailyn, we don’t know if we’re having a boy or girl, yet. It’s too early.” With the certainty that only a three year old can have, she shook her head. “No,” she insisted. “My baby sister is growing in there, and she is coming on my birthday, because that’s what I want for my birthday present.” “Honey, the baby may be coming in February, but it’s not due until the end of the month,” explained Jon. “Your birthday is the 7th, so the baby will miss your birthday.” The small pair of grey eyes looked up at him, unfazed by his words. “She WILL be here on my birthday.” She folded her arms and went back to her paper and crayons. Jon and I shrugged our shoulders. Arguing with a child is pointless. Cailyn was convinced that she was getting a baby sister for her birthday. As the months went by, and the time for our ultrasound got closer, I secretly prayed for a girl: not because I really cared what kind of baby we’d have (other than healthy, of course), but I knew that Cailyn would be heartbroken if I wasn’t carrying her little sister. Sure, she would get over it, eventually; but going from an only child to a big sister is an enormous transition all on its own. If we had another girl, maybe our adjustment would be at least a little easier. I never told anyone of my wish, mostly because I thought it was selfish. On the day of the ultrasound, Cailyn was in preschool. Jon and I watched as the technician waved her wand over my goopy belly. The essentials were checked out first: heart, lungs, spine—all the good stuff. After what seemed like forever, she asked. “Do you want to know what you’re having?” I smiled up at Jon. We didn’t find out with Cailyn; we wanted it to be a surprise. “Yes,” we both answered immediately. Cailyn was right. A little sister was on the way. When picked her up from preschool early to tell her the news, Jon and I thought that we’d have another round of cheers and banging around the house. Instead, Cailyn raised an eyebrow at us and said in a serious voice. “See, I told you.” And here I thought that parents were the only ones to say “I told you so” to their kids. The pregnancy flew by, and with each week, Cailyn was our official countdown person. “Only two months until my birthday and my sister comes! Only one month now!” she’d announce. Paul Revere had nothing on this kid. Jon and I would both try to gently remind her that the baby would probably be a little late for her birthday, but her mind was made up. By the time early February 2002 came along, I started to hope that maybe Cailyn would be right. This baby was growing fast, my blood pressure was elevated and I had to leave work early to go on modified bed rest. I felt lousy. On one of my last visits to the doctor, I was informed I was already progressed to 3 centimeters. “But, it’s only the first week of February!” I replied. “I know,” Jen said, “But I wouldn’t worry too much. It could still be weeks. It is your second baby after all.” “Weeks?” I grumbled. Jen checked my blood pressure and wasn’t thrilled with what she was looking at. “Well, maybe not weeks. You could go as soon as this weekend. But, either way, I think we’re going to induce you. Your blood pressure isn’t going down.” She grabbed a calendar. “How does February 7th sound?” “NO!” I yelped, just about coming off the table. “That’s Cailyn’s birthday! They can’t have the same birthday.” Jen laughed—and I think it was at me, not with me. “All right, Marie. How about the 12th?” I sighed with relief and thanked her. I scooted off the table and waddled out of the office. Jon, who hadn’t said much during our visit, waited until we got into the elevator to speak up. “Maybe we should call your mom and tell her to come up.” At first, I was going to protest. I wasn’t going to be induced for a little over a week, and we had gone through two “false alarms” already up to this point. But, Mom lives in Vermont and it’s a 5 hour drive to Maine. I called as soon as I got home. “Can you come up a little early?’ “Sure. I’ll get there in time for Cailyn’s birthday. We can take her out to eat or something and then we’ll have a few days to get ready for this baby!” Nothing beats a grandmother’s excitement. On February 7th, all of us made a big deal out of Cailyn’s special day. We knew it would be her last hurrah as the only kid in the house. Cailyn decided that she wanted to go to the mall to her favorite restaurant for the big birthday dinner. Off we went and enjoyed some cheese sticks and pizza. Less than 30 minutes later, the contractions started. I shrugged them off at first, thinking they were just Braxton-Hicks again. It wasn’t until another 15 minutes went by that my mom noticed I wasn’t talking much, only breathing pretty funny. “Are you ok?” she asked. I nodded. “Sure.” Jon glanced sideways at me. “Are you having contractions?” “A couple,” I lied. They were about every five to seven minutes. Suddenly, everyone around me was packing up pizza, drinks, etc. “Where are we going?” I asked like an idiot. “Home, so you can call your doctor and get to the hospital,” Mom said in her classic ‘I’m a mother’ exasperated tone. Guess it doesn’t matter how old the child gets, the mom is still in charge. To pacify my husband and mother, I dialed the doctor on call, knowing for sure he’d tell me to just stay home and rest because this would pass like all the others. “Why don’t you come on in?” he instructed. Jon grabbed our packed bag and after Cailyn emerged from her room after changing for bed, we told her we were going to the hospital. “Is my sister coming?” she asked, her eyes sparkling. “I’m not sure, honey,” I answered. “But, we need to go.” “My birthday present is coming! I knew it! I knew it!” The zooming through the hallway started once again. We left our little rocket for grandma to deal with and went to the hospital. My labor was a lot longer than it was with Cailyn and I chuckled at the fact that for a baby who wanted to make her first appearance almost three weeks early, she sure was taking a long time about it. It wasn’t until Cailyn visited the next afternoon that things started to really happen. I had been plodding along slowly through labor, but from the moment Cailyn walked into the room, the baby started to rock and roll. The contractions came harder and faster, almost as if little sister was already trying to keep up with big sister. When the pain became too much, Mom brought Cailyn home, expecting to return the next morning since the baby probably wasn’t going to make an appearance before bedtime. Not 15 minutes after they left, everything changed. Did this baby know that her sister had left and was this her way to bring her back? Within an hour of Cailyn’s departure, I was pushing her sister into the world. Less than 5 minutes and only 3 pushes after we started, baby sister Erin was born at 6:51 pm on February 8, 2002. It didn’t take long for Cailyn to come back to the hospital. With flowers for me in one hand, and a stuffed ladybug in the other, she hurried into the room. Baby Erin lay in the hospital bassinet and Cailyn looked down upon her. She proudly wore a pink shirt that exclaimed “I’m the Big Sister!” She climbed up in the rocking chair that sat in the corner of the room and begged to hold her sister. Jon lifted Erin out of her bed and placed her in the small, waiting arms. “What’s her name?” she asked as she held the baby close to her chest. “Erin Alexis” I told her. Cailyn kissed the top of Erin’s pink, wrinkled forehead and spoke in hushed tones to her little sister. “Hi Erin. Happy Birthday to you. I think you’re still the best birthday present, even if you are a day late!”

I need more &*(&$#( time!!

I'm not sure how moms who have kids at home full time are able to get anything accomplished. With school now out for both of my girls, they've been home together all week. After only 4 days, they are already driving each other nuts. Fortunately, Cailyn starts day camp on Monday and Erin's sitter is back from vacation next week. I feel like a crappy mom and a snob sometimes, because the kids aren't home with me every day during the week. But, if it weren't for some alone time, I think all I'd have left of my house is some spare pieces of wood and a few roof shingles. So, kudos to the full-time moms at home! Working from home is a challenge. The girls don't understand that when I say, "I'm working", it means they shouldn't bother me. Trying to string coherent thoughts together, be it for work or my own manuscripts isn't easy when I have two kids yelling, "Mom! She...." or "Can I have a snack!" or "It's my turn now!" Still, I've managed to get some work done over the past day and a half. I have finally have a revised and "complete" chapter of my memoir. You can read it at this link: Click here to read "Visions" I posted a draft version of this a while back on the ol' blog, but it is redone and much more in-depth. I'd love to hear what you think, if you get the chance to check it out. Secondly, I am writing a column called "Raising Girls" on Suite101.com. No pay, but lots of exposure and a great way to keep me on my writing toes. Check it out at: Raising Girls I guess I just felt like I don't have enough on my plate right now. BWAH HA HA. Well, it's late and I am taking the girls to the library for story time in the morning and then to a picnic lunch with some friends. I guess I can be a good mom, once in a while...;)

The great outdoors...

It's important to note that I'm not really an "outdoor chick" at all. The closest thing to camping I'd probably enjoy now is a pop up camper, but I think that would be stretching it a bit. Still, I have found some great opportunities to take some nice shots while out and about lately. And, to be honest, two of these moments were right outside my door. Even I can handle that...
When we got home from our Father's Day dinner, Jon noticed this web on his car antenna. I'm arachniphobic, but spider webs are just too damned interesting not to look at. Once I determined that some big eight-legged beast wasn't going to jump out and attack, I grabbed the camera and took some shots. This was one of them. The evening breeze was starting to tear it up a bit, but Miss Spider's got some strong stuff in those spinnerettes, I guess.
And then there were three...Last year, we noticed one groundhog who lived right in between our property and what was once a vacant lot next door. As our new neighbors moved in (and built a huge house, btw) it seems that our nature friend has added to the family. I know they're rodents and all (ewww), but they were pretty cute scampering around the border of the yard.
This little guy has guts. His poor home gets spied on everyday and he has some of the loudest visitors one can imagine. Still, in spite of having over 25 kids screaming and pointing, Mr. Frog (of course, I'm only assuming it's Mr.; I didn't get close enough to find out for sure, as if I'd know how to figure that out) poked his head out to get a look at who was making all the noise. I just happened to be pointing the camera that way and snapped the shot. Jon loves this picture, so I decided to post it.

Photo study: Growing up so quickly...

It still seems so hard to believe that my girls are 7 and 3. Jon and I were talking yesterday that Erin is now the age Cailyn was when we found out I was pregnant again. Unreal. As most of you know, I've been playing around with my digital camera for a while and decided to post some pics. This first group is of my girls. Neither Jon nor I know where how they wound up so photogenic (both of us hate the camera!).
Don't they just seem to love each other so much? Ok, they do. But, lately, it seems like all they do is run/thump around the house, teasing and annoying the hell out of one another. Guess that's what I missed out on by being an only child. I suppose there's an upside to everything, right? LOL This shot was taken at Cailyn's end of year primary team trip to Maine Wildlife Park. Monday is Cailyn's last day of 1st grade!
When I saw Cailyn standing there, looking like this with her 'do rag' and my sunglasses, I had horrifying visions of her in about 5 or so more years. Still, I was moved to take the picture, mostly because there's Erin in the background...trying to keep up with all of them and so inquisitive--while Cailyn stands, looking bored and oh, so cool...
This shot was taken during a carnival in Auburn in May. It's Cailyn's first time on one of those Bungee rides. She had a blast and I about had a coronary. If it weren't for the fact that I had my camera, I would have been a mess. Somehow, though, looking at her through the lens made it easier to watch (maybe because it seemed like I was a step removed. That's my story, anyway...)
This is classic Erin. She was investigating some piece of nature near my parents' house in Vermont during April vacation. Fortunately, I had the camera with me and I got the shot. Erin sees the finer details in everything, sometimes to a fault. But, when she's like this, it makes me wonder what's ticking in that 3-year-old brain of hers.

There's always a first for a writer!

I know I haven't posted in ages. Yeah, I'm lame. Since returning from NYC, it's been a whirlwind here and I'm still processing a lot of what I got from there. For instance, one of the lessons I learned that I need to stretch out of my comfort zone/box a little and get my writing out to the masses more. I have my website, my blog and even my byline at the paper, but when it comes to my own manuscripts, I haven't done a lot. I'm considering starting a place that I can just put all of my own writing--maybe even just here. Anyway, I have submitted my work to a number of places (magazines, e-zines, writing groups). I'm very excited to say that one of my stories has been accepted at Long Story Short, a neat literary e-zine for women writers. I will be published in the July issue! My first original story (non-feature) to be "published!". Also, I was accepted into a great writing workshop group that I applied to online. The Writing Bridge was cited as one of Writing Digest top websites for writers. I hope to get the feedback and critiques I need to kick my writing up a level and move forward in my career. Taking risks does pay off sometimes.

NYC Update--May 31

Wow, it's been a long day. It's 11:10 pm and I'm winding down from a nice evening. I walked back down to Times Square and there, amongst the throngs of restaurants, I found an Olive Garden...yeah, yeah, not unique, but I was really hungry and it is one of my favorite places to eat. I rarely get to eat there...So, I got myself a table and basked in the solitude of a meal without having to say "Sit down! Use your fork!" or having to escort anyone to the bathroom. Being alone, had I done any of those things this evening, I might have been escorted away as a lunatic, but then again, who knows, it is NYC. Anyway, dinner was great! After dinner, I strolled down back down the other side of W 46th Street to the Richard Rogers theater, where Movin' Out is playing. I was a bit, early, so I just walked up and down the theater district a bit. For a former theater major, this is heaven. To pass a door that says, "Stage Door" gave me tingles. One of them was cracked open just a bit. I "almost" wanted to just peek in. Ok, I'll admit it, I wanted to sneak in and get a good look around, but common sense and my conscience won out. Finally, the house opened and I was able to take my seat. Great location; TKTS is awesome! I'll write a full review of Movin' Out tomorrow: first, I need a night to let it all sink in and two, it's late and I'm not sure I'm even writing coherently now, so, that wouldn't be a fair review, would it? Around 10pm the show ended and walked 5 minutes back to my hotel...passing Times Square once again. I didn't have my camera because I knew there was no picture taking in the theater and didn't want to run the risk of having it confiscated. But, I do know that when I return from the Javits Center tomorrow--after my conference--I am heading out with the camera and capturing NY at night...Things have certainly changed in the area since I was a kid. I certainly never thought I'd feel safe walking in the area at night alone, and back in the 70's and 80s, I probably couldn't have. It's been a long, but awe inspiring day. My alarm and wake up call is set for 6am, so I should head off to sleep. Conference news tomorrow! Night!

Live from New York! It's....

Me! After almost 7 hours in the car, I made it down to Manhattan. Overall, the trip was really good, although coming out of New Haven and then right before the Geo Wash Bridge were tied up badly (added an hour to the trip.) Amazingly, though, traffic downtown wasn't anything like I thought it would be. It seems as though I inherited a bit of the city driver blood from my folks--either that or it really is true that "you can take the girl out of the city, but...". Normally, I'm a pretty cautious driver and like to give people a wide berth. There's no room for that in midtown Manhattan, though, and I held my own. Currently, I'm about one block from Times Square, where I stood not even 10 minutes after I got my car into a parking garage to get on the TKTS booth line. All I can say is God Bless this place--50% off Broadway show tickets for the same-night performance. Of course, it's still a pretty penny for a show (at least compared to Maine!), but after waiting a little less than a 1/2 hour, I scored a seat for "Movin' Out", which is only about 2 1/2 blocks from my hotel door! I do wish that Jon was here so we could share this together, but I'm still admittedly excited. Tomorrow morning, I get to hail my first cab in order to get to my writing conf. I guess if I can drive down here, I can hail a cab, right? Also, as I drove down the Henry Hudson Parkway toward W 46th street, I discovered that it's FLEET WEEK! here in NYC--aka a big party for those shipmen/women who are serving us so well. Fleet Week is well known down here and it's usually quite rowdy. I counted dozens of seamen as I made my way to the hotel...Buckle in NY, it should be a fun week. Talk about timing! Ok, more later. I haven't eaten since this morning and the head is throbbing a bit. I'll post again in a bit!

New Memoir Chapter: How the hell did I get here?

Ok, so here's another installment for my book--(Heidi, you can get off my back about posting, k? LOL LOL LOL LOL LOL). I think this will be kind of like the intro for the book and then the last chapter I posted will come right after, but who knows, I may change my mind...stay tuned and find out. On Tuesday, I leave for NYC for a writer's conference and hope to present a proposal (including a few sample chapters to agents and editors. I pray that I have it done by the time I have to leave--but toinght's work has broken about a two-week block for me. THANKS HEIDI!) So, here it is! ******** HOW THE HELL DID I GET HERE? Each night, I turn on the cold water, fill a glass and place two small pills on my tongue. It’s only been about seven months since I started this little routine, but I’ve found that the process is almost natural now—I can do it without thinking. While the process may be second-nature, the reasons behind this recent addition to my life still nudge at me almost every night: two tiny question marks that punctuate the larger question of “How the hell did I get here?” Of course, if I had the answer to that question, I’d probably be a millionaire, and, in truth, I’m really not looking for the answer to the more abstract version of the inquiry. It’s just that sometimes, I truly wonder how I wound up being a 34-year-old woman, married almost nine years to a great man and mother to two beautiful daughters, ages seven and three. The paths I could have chosen--that many people in my place have opted to go down—are often too frightening to think about. Contrary to Robert Frost’s beautiful piece, the road not taken does not always lead to a better destination. As the daughter of an alcoholic father, I know that I’m not alone. Some statistics say that at least 1 in 4 children under the age of 18 are exposed to alcohol abuse (American Journal of Public Health, Grant, 2000) and more than one-half of American adults have a close family who has or had alcoholism (Dawson and Grant 1998). Statistics are good: they can help people get a clearer picture of large or abstract concepts. Sometimes, though, I think that statistics have a tendency to make issues too simple, allowing the public to see them as merely numbers and not how certain things affect individuals. Somehow, the personal stories of children of alcoholics get buried beneath the numbers. While the numbers give me comfort in the fact that I haven’t traveled down this road on my own, I don’t want to be known merely as a statistic; I’m not just a number in some group or agency’s report. Besides, statistics aren’t necessarily truth. According to other statistics about kids of an alcoholic parent, my performance in school should have been below average, many of my relationships should be dysfunctional and it is highly likely that I abuse alcohol, too. While these things may be fact for many family members dealing with alcoholism, it is not my reality. This is not to say that my life is idyllic. Remember my little admission above about my two little nightly pills? I’m sure the depression and anxiety I deal with is tied to my history. I don’t believe that anyone, be it daughter, spouse, parent or whoever, can come out the other side of alcoholism without some lingering effects. But, hey, I’ll take two little pills every day over any of the other options listed above. Back to my question, though, of “How the hell did I get here?” As I watch my daughters grow up and see time take its own toll on me, it is a question that I know has not one, but many answers. Some of the stories included here are my attempt to dig around a little and hopefully unearth some of the answers to this question that may be buried in my experiences. Others are just included simply because they paint a fuller picture of what life in my family was like. Yes, my father was an alcoholic. Yes, there were many difficult times. As a child, many of the moments went by in a blur of confusion and anger. However, there are also moments of laughter and love that I cling to and I know helped to shape me into the woman I’ve become. By accepting the good with the bad and understanding that my life doesn’t have to be defined by one of the other has been a first step into helping me cope with many of the uncertainties in my life, both past and present. Most addiction treatment programs, be it for addicts or family members, contend that acceptance is the key to healing. Acceptance just takes longer for some than others—for me, it started almost 11 years ago and has been a work-in-progress ever since. And, it began with five simple words… “My dad’s gonna die, guys.”

New Memoir Chapter: "Visions" (part one)

Hey all, I know it's been a while since my last post, but it's been quite busy (more details tomorrow). I'm wrapping up a long weekend in Cinci to visit Jon, who's been away on business since 4/3 and will return on 5/20. I'm a bit reluctant to go home, but the girls need me (and I do miss them--a little ;), the in-laws need to get back home and Jon and I need to get back at work... So, while I was gone and Jon had to work, I managed to bang part of another memoir chapter out. This is about 1/2 to 3/4 done, and it is unedited, as I continue to struggle with my first draft perfectionism syndrome. Commentary/corrections are welcome here. Will post tomorrow night, when I return to beautiful Maine (alone--sniff sniff) -----VISIONS (INCOMPLETE MEMOIR CHAPTER) “Did you see him?” Dad looked over at me as I entered his hospital room, with that all-too-familiar glint in his eye. Never mind the fact that he was sick, he only had one thing on his mind. “Daddy…” “C’mon honey,” he encouraged. “He’s young, good looking, and a doctor!” “Yes, he is all of those things.” Sometimes it was just easier to play this game than fight against it. “So? What do you think? I’ve been telling him all about you.” I heard a small groan escape my throat. “Like what?” “That you’re getting your Masters Degree! And that you’re smart and funny and…” “Dad, you shouldn’t be talking to your doctor about me,” I reminded as I gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. I sat in a chair I pulled up along side the bed. “And why not? You’ve got a lot to offer a man like that…” “You should be the topic of conversation, Dad! After all, you are the patient.” “Aw, hell, pumpkin, he has all of his charts and tests for that crap.” He frowned, trying to look angry. He did all he could to avoid the most obvious topic: his health. It was like that cliché of the pink elephant; everyone sees the damn thing in the room, but no one wants to be the first to mention it, just in case it’s really not there and he’s deemed to be crazy or something. “Besides,” he continued, “you can’t blame me for wanting a good thing for my girl.” I leaned back in the chair. “No, I don’t blame you for that, Daddy. And, he seems like a very nice man…” “Well what’s the friggin’ problem, then?” “The problem is the ring he’s already wearing on his finger!” The look of realization on his face was priceless and I did all I could to suppress a laugh. “If you’re going to spend your time trying to set me up with men, Daddy, the least you can do is make sure they’re single first.” “Damn,” he muttered. “I didn’t notice that.” “Of course not. All you see is the Dr. in front of his name and your brain goes into meltdown mode.” “I’m just trying to help.” He folded his thin arms in front of his chest. “Don’t worry, Dad. It’s just that we are trained to look for the ring. If it makes you feel any better, when I met him for the first time, it was the first thing I looked for.” A wry smile spread across his lips. “See, I know what you like.” “All right, I won’t argue. What’s the point, anyway?” “None, so forget it.” I studied him for a moment. Dad looked better, comparatively, than he had for a while. Time in the hospital forced him to “dry out” and stay away from the cigarettes. He face was still drawn from all of the weight he had lost, and his skin coloring didn’t look quite right; but, his eyes lost some of the cloudiness that had settled there. “What did the doctor say, anyway?” I asked carefully. Dad glanced sideways at me. “He told me you sounded like a charming young lady.” “I’m not talking about that.” “Hmm, well…they’re gonna be doing some tests tomorrow. See if they can figure out what’s going on with me.” He avoided my glance by staring out the window. I nodded. “What time?” “I don’t know, around 9:30 or so.” “All right, I’ll be here,” I stated as I got up and poured a cup of water from his plastic pitcher. “No way!” he barked, “you have finals.” “Finals don’t start until Monday, Daddy.” “So what? You have to study.” “I have all weekend.” “Why do you insist on arguing with me?” “Because you insist on being stupid.” “I…what?” His eyes narrowed as he realizes what I just said to him. “Never mind.” “You’re less than two weeks from graduating, Marie! You’re gonna screw that up?” “Jesus, Daddy! You’re always so dramatic!” I drink down the water and sit on the edge of his bed. “An hour or so here in the morning is not going to stop me from graduating from college!” “Your mother would have a friggin’ bird if you…” “Would you just stop worrying and let me do what I want!?” He sighed as deeply as his one remaining, damaged lung would allow. “Damn stubborn. Just like your mother.” “Like mom?” I replied with a laugh. “I think I got that trait from both sides of the family.” “Yeah, well…fine.” We sat in silence for a few moments. Then, it came out of nowhere: “I don’t think I’m gonna make it to your graduation.” On the surface, his declaration sounded so simplistic. I don’t believe, though, that its more complex meanings escaped either of us. Usually, I had no problem finding a comeback to toss at my father, whether it was sarcastic or sincere. This one had me at a definite loss. “Dad…” He leaned toward me. “I’ll do my best to be there, ok? I really wanna be there.” “You will be.” “Yeah.” He began a coughing jag. It took at least two minutes before he fully quieted down. “How about for right now, you worry about doing what the doctors tell you and I worry about getting through finals and graduation.” “All right, all right,” he conceded reluctantly, reclining back on the bed. “You know that I was only trying to help before.” My forehead crinkled with confusion. “Huh?” “With the doctor. I was just trying to help you out.” My eyes rolled, although I knew that he hated that. “We’re back to this.” “What’s wrong with finding a man?” I shook my head. “I can’t help it if most of them are losers.” His blue eyes narrowed. “The guys at your college, they’re nothing. Wait until you go to Ohio.” “You said that when I started school,” I reminded. “Didn’t do too well in that department after five years.” He waved his hand at me. “They’re boys, sweetie. You’re gonna meet a man in Ohio.” The look on my face was clear to him. “You don’t believe your father?” He loved nothing more than a challenge. “You’ve rarely been right so far about most things.” I could tell immediately that my words stung a bit, but he carried on. “I know I’m right about this. Remember, I’m psychic.” “Oh, of course,” I played along. “I forgot. And what’s this Prince Charming going to be like?” His reply was slow. “I’m not sure…” “Some psychic you are…” “But, he’ll be a man who can take care of you the way a man should …the kind of man you deserve.” “Ha! See, I know you’re wrong, because you’ve always told me that there was never going to be a man that was good enough for me.” “This one is close enough. I know it. I can almost see him. He’ll be a good man.” For a second, I was a bit frightened. Daddy’s psychic visions were always a little joke between us; something we’d laugh over. Something in his eyes this time, though, was creeping me slightly. “Yeah. Ok, Daddy. I’ll tell you what, if you’re right, I’ll bring him home and tell you to your face that you’re right.” His eyes darkened, but a small smile settled on his lips. “I’ll never live that long.” He was trying to be funny, but somewhere, deep down, he was having another one of his visions. “You’re not going to meet anyone in Ohio, though, if you don’t get your ass back to school and study. I know you think you’re smart and all, but you still need to study.” It was time to wave the white flag this time. “All right, all right. You win.” His smile widened. “Don’t get too cocky. I’m still coming back in the morning.” “Your mother will be here.” “I know, but someone has to be here so the two of you don’t drive each other nuts—or worse—kill each other.” “Funny,” he said with a scowl. “Get here whenever. These people aren’t letting me go anywhere.” “I’ll see you in the morning.” I reached over and hugged him tightly to me, gave him a kiss and left the hospital. In the twenty minutes it took me to get back to my house on campus, I discovered that I, too, possessed my own form of psychic powers. The car managed to get parked properly and I found my way back to my home. I yanked open the screen door, which was letting in the breeze of the evening air and I plopped down on the couch and spread out fully. “Hey!” Jen, one of my housemates, greeted as she walked by me toward the kitchen. I raised my hand slightly. “Hey.” “Late class?” “No.” Chad, the residence director, who was a year and a half younger than me, entered and jumped over the armrest of the easy chair next to me. “Where were ya?” “Hospital.” Jen looked at Chad and then at me. “Damn. Sorry, I forgot. How’s your dad, anyway?” “He looked better tonight.” I had to close my eyes; I felt a headache descending. “That’s good news,” Chad commented a little too quickly—an attempt to prevent the awkward moment from spreading much farther. I moaned something unintelligible and then the inevitable strained silence filled the room. “So…” Chad bravely tried to keep pressing onward. “What happens now?” I opened my eyes reluctantly, not only because of the building throb in my brain, but also because I did not want to acknowledge the vision I had all the way home. But, there was no denying it. In one motion, I sat up and looked at my two friends. “My father’s gonna die, guys.” * * * *

Health Hysteria

[WARNING: This post deals with some gross, albeit not graphic, kiddie health and hygiene issues. If body functions and illness make you squicky, skip this post. If not, read and enjoy. It's a doozy...] Somehow, I think I mysteriously and secretly earned the equivalent of an MD from the moment I pushed my kids out of the womb. That is the only explanation I can think of that has enabled me to deal with all the bodily fluids, cuts, bumps, bruises and other things that my children have managed to expel, ingest, wedge or whatever else they can think to do with this stuff. Today was one of those days that I wonder how I manage to keep my own stomach in check--must have turned to iron over the years. First, let me say that Erin is having her tonsils and adenoids removed tomorrow morning at 7:30. Although surgery is never a great thing for a child (esp. one that's only 3), this procedure is greatly needed and I've been anxious for it to happen. I'm tired of having my daughter mistaken for Darth Vader when she breathes or as a buzzsaw when she sleeps. Poor kid! Big sis Cailyn had it done last year (age 5) and it was like a miracle for her. She slept through the night, is well rested and healthy now. Anyway, Erin decided that the past week was the PERFECT time to start potty training. Yes, the switch flipped and now she's peeing and (mostly) pooping on the toilet. This is great news, as I'm tired of dropping money on diapers and pull ups, but right before surgery? Not the best time to start. Still, she's determined. So, tonight, my mom arrives to help with the kids, as Jon (DH) is out of town for an extended trip. We take the girls to Applebees for dinner. Cailyn's looking pretty tired, but says she's ok. We get into the restaurant and she lays flat on the booth bench. Just as we're all sitting down, she sits up, points to her mouth and mumbles, "Sick." Somehow, I manage to yank her tall, 65 pound body up over the booth, while telling my mom "MOVE!". I rush her to the bathroom, half dragging/half carrying her there, where she almost makes it to the toilet before SPLAT...I won't go into any more details here. The cause? Carsickness... I get Cailyn cleaned up and apologize to the poor schmuck that has to clean up the mess (I did offer to help, btw). Cailyn's feeling all better and settles down next to my mom. Just as my butt hits the bench, a little voice speaks into my ear. "Mommy, I need to go potty. Now." SIGH. Yeah, and by the way, Mom's sitting there with this big grin on her face. Grrr.. So, off I go with Erin. The guy is still cleaning up when I walk in. He tells me it's closed. "Listen, I know my last kid made a mess, but if I promise this one won't puke, can I please have her go? She's training right now." Fortunately, the guy has a sense of humor (or just feels bad for me). For the record, Erin did her thing, got big cheers from all of us and I finally managed to get back to the table, where I needed a real stiff drink, but managed to only order a water with lemon. And, yes, I did manage to eat my dinner, too...Some may not be able to do that after dealing with puke, pee and poop all within a 10 minute timespan, but hey, I'm a mom. If I got grossed out easily, I'd never eat!!!

The River Wild...

Great Falls on Auburn/Lewiston border
Fortunately, there wasn't the severe flooding along the Androscoggin River, but as you can see from the pictures, the river is brimming and pushing its way along aggressively. I've posted 3 pictures of what the river looks like. I've been taking lots of shots lately, of almost anything. My online photography class has been a lot of fun. I still don't understand a lot about the manual settings, but the pictures I took today were some experiments with shutter speeds and aperatures--please don't ask me to explain a lot about these: remember, I'm still learning. It was rather overcast, so the light isn't great, but not bad for still early on in my picture taking history. Sun is out now, so maybe I'll grab some more shots later, before picking up Erin. In the meantime, it's back to cleaning the house. Mom arrives in about 3 hours and I want to make sure I don't give her ammo to criticize! LOL Will post more later...

Raging Rapids...

The rain stops, but water still flows...

Voices from the third floor (first draft)

Thanks to those of you who have recently read/commented on my blog. Glad to have you and hope you stick around. Below you will find the latest chapter draft of my memoir piece. It is a very rough first draft--basically what you read is what I typed with as little correction or revision as possible. As always, I welcome feedback. I'm already thinking that this chapter needs something else--more dialogue or something. But, as I indicated in the piece, many of the actual words aren't clearly recalled--just the emotions behind them. Anyway, thoughts, ideas, suggestions are always welcome. Thanks for reading. ------------------------------------------------------- VOICES FROM THE THIRD FLOOR When I was a girl, I didn’t have a cell phone. Of course, during the 70’s and early 80’s, no one did. There simply wasn’t a need for one. Sure, some people can say it was because times were safer and parents didn’t have to keep a 24 security watch on their children back then. That may be true, to some extent. However, me and my friends who grew up on Tuckahoe Road had something far superior than any hi-tech flip phones that teens, tweens or perhaps even some preschoolers may carry around in their pockets or backpacks. This marvel of technology was able to carry messages across courtyards and even down the street. An opened window transmitted news faster than the speed of light, whether it was shouted from or up to by neighbors, children…hell, strangers probably even passed the word along from time to time. The open window was almost like magic in our apartment complex: it was multi-functional and, yet, so simple to use! There was no programming involved, no annoying ring tones to download--although some of the voices I can’t say much for their ear pleasing qualities—and no numbers to memorize. Our open apartment windows could tell time: “Frankie!” Grandma Hughes would holler from her perch looking directly down to the front end of the court yard. “Time to eat!” They were the first prototypes for ATM’s. Not one of us had to type in a password. “MOM! THE ICE CREAM MAN IS COMING!” were the magic words and money would rain down. All I can say that I was grateful when my parents threw down the paper money rather than the change. Not only did it make finding the cash a lot easier, but it was much gentler when it landed smack in the middle of my forehead, as my eyes followed it through its descent. As far as I was concerned, though, the window’s ability to foretell the future was its greatest power. Whether I was digging in the dirt, riding my bike or just hanging out on the front stoop, whatever I heard from the window would tell me what the end of the day would be like. Ironically, hearing nothing—absolute silence—came as a welcome sign to me. Many days, I prayed that I heard nothing. Other times, though, the voices from my third floor window signaled loud and clear that a long night was ahead. These weren’t voices calling a daughter to dinner or someone having the volume of the television up just a bit too loud. They were voices of anger—of my dad screaming at my mom and her frustrated and bitter returns. To this day, I can’t exactly recall the words that I would fly out the open window. But, truthfully, it really doesn’t matter what precisely was spoken. Even then, it was the volume, the tone and what sounded like an utter lack of love that dug itself into my ears. At first, embarrassment was my reaction. My parents’ arguments seemed to become a form of guilty entertainment for my core group of friends. They would stop whatever game we’d be playing or any other activity going on and just listen. I would watch as their eyes tracked the noise coming from the two open living room windows. A heat would rise within me—first out of shame for being the focus of such gossip fodder, and then out of fear of my friends dropping me like a bad fad. In my mind, I wondered who would want to hang around with a girl with such a weird family. My childhood naiveté didn’t consider the possibility that my friends’ folks fought, too. I’m pretty sure they did; they just had the common sense (and decency) to do it behind closed doors and windows. Eventually, though, the novelty of the Skerritt Scream-a-Thons wore off. My buddies, either out of sympathy for me or just because they bored of them, were able to ignore them after a while. The arguments became a regular fixture in our courtyard. It was easy for my friends to keep walking past the windows. Most times, I would follow right along, chatting and laughing with the rest of the group. But, rarely an occasion would go by that my eyes had to pause, ever so slightly, to acknowledge that these weren’t just voices from a third floor window. It was my life being broadcast to the world. Our dirty laundry hung out for all, not to see, but rather, to hear. At the end of any of these days, I would slowly climb the three flights of stairs leading to my apartment. I already knew what was waiting behind the thick, black metal door. Still, I stood outside of it, looking up at the peep hole and the numbers that identified my home: 3B. I wished I could look inside, so that I could see what was going on, that if what I envisioned in my mind was the reality that awaited me once I opened the door. But, reality could only wait so long. My eyes would close, my hand gripped tightly on the brass knob and I pushed open the door. The aroma of something delicious cooking on the stove would hit me as I entered and for the briefest of moments, I could imagine things were “normal”. “What’s for dinner, Mommy?” “You’ll see,” she’d say as she closed the oven door. “Go get your father. It’s time to eat.” With a hopeful smile, I’d search around the apartment for him. If I found him in the bedroom, it was never a good sign. Still, ever the optimist, I would try… “Hey, Daddy…come on, it’s time to eat!” He sat on the edge of the bed and look out a window that was just a bit too high to get a good view from where he was located. Without turning, he’d snap, “Tell your mother I’m not eating,” Then, he would take a long drink from his beer. “Tell her she killed my appetite…again!” I left silently and sat at the table, waiting for dinner to be put in front of me. Yeah, I should have known from the voices it was going to be a night like that. The voices never lied.