Awesomeness: A Thought on Fathers

With my impending nuptials just around the corner, the past few weeks have been exceedingly busy. I have had to pick out linens, confirm dates, dish out lots of money, juggle work, school, and a toddler. It has been quite the task, although not all together unpleasant. Sure, some of the necessary traditions that everyone else seems to know escape me. I may have addressed a few invitations as Maureen and Anthony instead of Mr. and Mrs. Anthony [last name]. I may have given my DJ a blank stare when he asked me what cake cutting song I wanted. Really? I have to choose a cake cutting song? Why did I think this would be an easy process? What I should have done was go out and buy a Wedding for Dummies book. That would definitely have helped!

It was not really until the last two weeks that some of the more beautiful things about planning a wedding began to surface. Going through all the reply cards and finding the little handwritten notes of “Can’t wait! We are so excited!” really made me smile. There is nothing like planning a wedding to force you to sit down, and think of your relationships with people.

My family is like a village, a mostly female village. Each and every person in it had a hand in my development. The women are strong, independent, and opinionated. Trust me, you don’t want to cross these ladies. I think that because I am from a Matriarch, I often think of the women of my family and remark on how they shaped me into the woman I am today. What I don’t do, or at least don’t do enough is think of the men.

My father passed away when I was young, and nothing can change that. I will always have fond memories of him, and he taught me many things that I carry with me today. After he passed, however, my sister and I became the benefactors of something great. The men in my family banded together, and gave us something beautiful. Four men, strong and brilliant men, filled the role that we had lost.

 

The first of the four is my Uncle, and he was the strength that my mom and my sister relied upon when my father passed. We lived with them for a while, and he served a purpose I will cherish forever. He helped heal us. I remember when I was in fourth grade, we had a big science project. We had been studying temperatures and we were tasked with creating a “cooler” to house an ice-cube. We would then monitor them and the one who kept the ice-cube solid the longest would win. I was at a loss, as was my mother. How do you build a cooler? Go go Uncle P. He swooped in like a super hero without a cape, and took me to the best home improvement place around us; his shed. We selected a few pieces of wood, some puffy stuff I later learned was insulation, and some other few doodads that held whatnots together. Together, we built this rectangular box that most certainly was not pretty. He did let me do most of the hammering and glue, so it was expected. It was so atrocious looking that I was horrified I would fail, but not only did I not fail, I won first place! To a fourth grader, that is pretty much as cool as it gets.

The second of the four was more of the teddy bear type. He has a comforting smile, and always winks at you. I remember he used to sit down with me on my grandmother’s porch. During these times, it was our routine, I would ask him when he planned on marrying my godmother. Each time he would smile and say soon. I would laugh and tell him it better be. He would wink and move on to topics about school or some random topic a young girl would deem vitally important. As I grew older, his role did not change. Although I stopped asking him the marriage question, he has not changed much. A few years ago I showed up at their house with a flat tire. He sent me on my way to his friend, and made sure all my tires were fixed. I did not have to pay, only mention his name. They smiled at me and so “Oh! He is a good guy, saved us all from tickets on numerous occasions!” You should see him now with his grandchildren, it is just too adorable. He may look tough, but he is all mush!

The third of the four is a man, who though hundreds of miles away, leaves an impression on any who meet him. He has a sense of humor larger than the distance that separates us, and he made it known. I don’t think I have a memory of him without a smile, and we always loved when he came to visit. He would get us out of trouble with a wink and a grin. Not to mention he know just about everything there is to know about anything. I remember when we first moved towards central Mass to a town most of Mass had not heard of, he went out and bought a book. By the time we saw him next, he knew more about the little town than we did. Apparently plastic was invented in Leominster, who knew? My uncle, that’s who! With his sweet southern drawl, he can wiggle his way into anyone’s heart. Not to mention, he makes a great gift. A portrait of him circulates every year at Christmas.

The fourth man is special. He is my Step-Father. My relationship with Tony is incredible. We are very close, we get along very well, and we are a lot alike. We may not be blood related, but his influence has truly made a mark on me. I am hot-headed, quick to annoy, notoriously cheap, and pretty laid back. We even look alike, although I am pretty much the spitting image of my real father too. It’s the Italian in us. When I first began my wedding planning, I knew I wanted Tony to walk me down the aisle with my mother. I wanted to show to everything that he was a vital piece of my life. He is the man who I look to as my father. He did not replace my biological father, for no one could ever do that. But who is to say that I cannot have two fathers? Both of them are part of me, and part of who I am.

Grampy and Kayla

When I looked at songs for our father daughter dance, I had a lot of trouble. I was twelve when Tony first entered my life, and many of the songs were geared towards that. A lot of them are also really mushy, which if you know us you would know that is not us. We have a wry sense of humor and are very independent. We bond over our love of old music and rock, and snicker evilly when we get something cheaper than it’s actually worth. It was our intention to find a totally wacky song that we both love, and grove out on the dance floor. He of course would rock the sprinkler while I did the more dignified shopping cart.  Although I still love that idea, I found a song that fit us perfectly. And guess what? It’s not even rock!  See, I can be a big girl when I need to be!

My Step-Father is an incredibly important person in my life, as are my Uncles. Without their love, their guidance, and their influence I would not be who I am today. I hope you all take the time every now and then to sit back and think of all of the people who helped shape you into the person you are today. You should probably say thank you.

So thank you, ubber awesome guys. See you on the dance floor.

Of Cookies and Tantrums

Dear my beautiful, charming daughter;

You are currently in your room, face streaked with tears. Your little nose, by now, will be filled with boogies, and your too-big-pants are most likely drooped halfway down your bum. You are throwing a tantrum, and a sizable one at that, while I sit on my computer typing this away. Every now and then I can hear you murmur mommy, before the crying picks up once more.

Some may think me cruel for listening to your tantrums, refusing to cater to your needs. I am sorry I did not let you have a cookie, seeing as how we will be eating dinner in less than an hour. I am sorry you found this so unfair that you threw yourself upon the ground screaming out your anger. I am sorry that as I sent you to your room you decided to stomp your adorable little feet and through a little terrible-two-tantrum.

I was patient, at first, ignoring your whining and grumbles. I even used the nice voice and made you smile. But the moment you heard cookie after dinner, the battle was lost. The face contorted, the lower lip quivered, and your little mouth parted to issue the first of many toddler screams. These little shrieks of indignation and anger only increased as you sat in your room, angry at mommy for daring to say no, but that is okay.

Four minutes have passed, and by now you have quieted. I can hear the door open and close as you contemplate exiting. Your cries have stopped, but your temper is still in full force. The little pout on your lips, and the soft sniffle as you look in my direction is proof enough. That is not your I-am-sorry pout, that is your you-yelled-at-sweet-little-me pout. Well, my beautiful little girl, pout all you want. You still can’t eat the cookies before dinner. And now, now you can’t have them after dinner either.

With Love,

Mommy

 

Moms: A Thought about Schedules

Moms: A Thought about Schedules

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Last week, I had the amazing opportunity to interview an author I have been following for a while now, Krystal Wade. The details of the interview will be posted once I sit my butt down to actually finalize the post, but let’s not focus on that. During the interview, Krystal mentioned a few things that really got me thinking. Modern mothers have some serious schedules, most without a minute to spare! So what do we do with our time? The better question is what do we not do!

When we go about our day to day lives, we seldom think about how much we are actually doing. Unless we are in a frustrated mood, our busy schedules hardly register. I got to thinking about this because during my discussion with Krystal, we talked about our schedules. So to better understand just how much I have on my figurative plate, I wrote down all the major things I do. This list is just my basic responsibilities, no shopping, no bill paying, no social obligations. These are just the majorities.

First, and most importantly I am a mom. As some of you may know I am the proud mommy of a two and a half year old diva with an obsession for shoes. Those of you that are parents may cringe when I mention her age, and you should! She is in full terrible-twos mode! I am also a soon to be wife to an incredible man who helps make this crazy schedule possible. Without him, I would be lost!

The next thing is obvious, but I should still mention it. I run this blog, which is a complete blast by the way. I actually spend a lot of time reading books to review, reading other blogs to comment on, managing the social media, etc. Many of you understand this, but for those that don’t I will just say that it can be a bit time consuming, although awesomely fun.

When I am not reading, or writing for my blog you can usually find me writing in general. I write my own novels, though I hoard them like a crazy person and refuse to let the world see the big ones, which of course is most of them. Writing for me is a major stress reliever, and even if I only get a chance to write a few sentences before I can no longer keep my eyes open it is worth it.

Now for the nitty-gritty stuff, meaning my job. I work full time at a very time-demanding job that is 40 miles away from where I live. The commute sucks, but hey it’s a hour of peace that enables me to brainstorm my posts, as well as butcher my favorite songs with my loud, off-key voice. My job is great in the respect that I am kept busy, I get to travel, and I get to meet incredible, influential people in the healthcare world. Plus it pays my bills, so I can’t hate on that!

Sound busy yet? No? You need more? Okay great! I am also a full time student majoring in English Language and Literature in hopes of eventually becoming an editor. Sound fun? I certainly think so! It has been such a wonderful experience so far. I am positively thrilled to be back in school, even though it has effectively reduced the amount of sleep I get. Some people have told me I am crazy, but I just smile. Despite the crazy, hectic, often frantic days I am content with my schedule. There is not a single thing I would give up!

Oh! I am also planning a wedding which is happening in three and a half weeks! So raise your glass to the multi-tasking, I-have-more-to-do-today-than-physically-possible mothers in your life! They may not all have schedules like mine, but you can be assured it is just as hectic!

What does your schedule look like?

Children: A Thought on Personalities

Children: A Thought on Personalities

If possible, her smile is even cuter now!

That pretty, charming little smile gets me every time. She grins from ear to ear, and her little eyes light up. Then, in a cutesy little voice she tells me she loves me. I can feel it working. My anger begins to crumble, my mouth twitches as it attempts to smile despite my best attempts to stop it. My hands firmly stationed on my hips begin to slacken. She knows it too. That little twinkle in her eye gets brighter and brighter. Somehow her previous tantrum doesn’t seem quite so bad anymore. I am weak!

Now there are still certain things she does that no amount of the cutesy face can calm that raging parental anger, such as the last time when she threw her cereal bowl, which was of course filled with milk. However little things, like her getting in trouble for hitting our dog with her over-sized teddy bear, just seem so… miniscule compared to the power of that adorable little smile.

Take the past week for example. My daughter is a whirlwind of mess. She can destroy a room in less than five minutes. Given the right amount of sugar, that five can quickly drop to one. She plays with a toy for about ten seconds until she decides it is no longer worth her attention, then moves on to the next. Much to our annoyance, she usually leaves this toy on and upside down so that some random key is pressed and it just keeps repeating whatever noise that key causes. Do you have any idea how annoying that is? Didn’t I make a rule when I gave birth to her that no one was allowed to buy her toys that make loud noises? Where the heck did all these things come from! If only I could find my screwdriver, I would yank those batteries out! However that would just cause more mayhem.

She is proudly rocking her Auntie’s Versace sunglasses 🙂

You see, my daughter is a lover of broken things. If it doesn’t do what she knows it is supposed to do, she follows us around the house repeating, and I stress the repeating, this conversation…

“Mommy, it broken!”

“Uh oh, why don’t you play with another toy?”

“No, you buy new one.”

Now, I have no idea where she got this buy new one thing. My fiancé and I do not spoil her, and we do not buy her many toys. Most of them she either steals from my mother’s daycare, or a certain sister of mine buys them for her. Don’t deny it! You spoil her and you know it! It used to be “You fix it.” But apparently she has entered into the “buy me this” stage.

How cute are those boots? To this day she still loves them, although they no longer fit!

Luckily, as we do not buy her many toys, when we go to the store she doesn’t ask to be taken to the toy department. Seldom does she ask for us to buy her a new toy, unless of course a current one is broken. Instead, the most common thing she asks for is to buy her shoes. This is completely and totally my fault. I am a lover of shoes, and my love has transcended to her. We cannot walk past shoes without the two of us going “Ooo new shoes!” My poor fiancé is then left trying to drag us both away. She is also obsessed with sunglasses and purses, again which is totally my fault. I love buying them for her because she just looks so darn cute walking around in her little aviators and a bright little purse seating on the crook of her arm.

So is this buying trait my fault? Probably. However I think I might still blame my mom and my sister. It is much easier that way! If I take responsibility, then I will have to stop buying her those cute little shoes, and there is no way that can happen. Fall is here, and do you know what that means? It means it is time to buy boots! I can’t wait!

Are there things that you notice yourself buying your children a lot? If so, what is your “spoil” object?

Bravery: A Thought on Heroes

Bravery: A Thought on Heroes

Today is September 12th, 2012. I know you all know that, but I have a purpose in mentioning it. It is the day after September 11th, a date that will forever be known in the United States as the anniversary of a horrible tragedy. Do you remember where you were when you first heard the news? I do. I was sitting in Religion class back when I went to a catholic high school. One of the sisters came on the announcer and told us all to gather in the cafeteria where we all sat in silence watching the news.

This post is not about who did it, or who caused the pain. It is not about the war and whether it is right or wrong. This post is about remembering the people who died that day, and those who saved many.

Yesterday began as any other day for me. I woke up, grumbled about having to work, then began my day. I spent almost two hours of my morning stuck in traffic, complaining about how much I hated Interstate 495. It was a hectic morning with an easy afternoon. I decided to hop on facebook and browse until my lunch break ended. What I saw both inspired me, and broke my heart.

Pictures upon pictures of 9/11 paraded through my news food. Inspiration pictures with the common quote of Never Forget blazing across the top. I had truly forgotten that it was even September 11th. That unsettled me. I had been so caught up with school, this website, planning for my wedding that happens in a month, and even grieving over the fact that a blog I enjoy will be shutting down. Selfishly, I had forgotten an important day, a day we are supposed to remember.

I thought of posting something on my facebook to show my support of the heroes that emerged that fateful day, but something changed my mind. On posts that other people had made, we saw comments from people who are only created to hurt. People were accusing the government of orchestrating the entire thing; other people were claiming that Americans deserved it. People can have their beliefs, I do support that. You are entitled to think what you want. What infuriated me so was that people who were posting prayers to the families that lost someone, others were attacking our government in the comments. September 11th is not about the government. It is about people. People whose lives were taken, people who gave their lives to save others, and people who went above and beyond simply to help. This one day is not about blame, or about war, or even about terrorism. It is about the loss of life, and a country coming together to support its people.

Perhaps that is my naive take on it. I don’t understand why people feel the need to seek out others, and hurt them with their words. Let people grieve and remember in peace, without fear of verbal attacks. That day was filled with heroes, people we should remember and respect. Focus not on your beliefs of why it happened, but instead focus on healing the wounds that it created.

As I drove home from work, my mind was heavy with these thoughts. How can people not honor the heroes? How can we forget everything that people did for each other that day, and each day for the months that followed? An idea that had been mulling around my head weeks before, when I had remembered that 9/11 was approaching, resurfaced with vengeance. I was going to show my appreciation, even in some small insignificant way.

Yesterday, my two-year old daughter and I brought a tray of cookies, bakery bought since I am awful at baking, to our local Fire Station and Police Department. Trust me when I say if I had tried to bake them myself, my town would be out a few officers and firemen due to food poisoning. I truly am that bad. On the top of the tray was a big pink thank you card decorated in purple, red, blue and green scribbles with the sprawling words, Thank you for all that you do! It was a small gesture, but one that the officers and firemen at our local station loved.

It is a simple gesture, but simple gestures sometimes go the farthest. What did you do to commemorate 9/11?

Self: A Thought on What Defines Us

Self: A Thought on What Defines Us

This Tuesday, something miraculous happened. I went back to school! Okay, maybe not really miraculous but it is still pretty exciting for me. Want to know the best part? I am starting from scratch. Since I was 18, I have entered into about 900 different “career paths” that I just knew I wanted. Slight exaggeration, it is more like 4 but you get the point. They were usually on the science side of things, which is cool. I love science, especially natural related things, i.e. geography, aerospace, oceanography, etc. I hopped from Engineering, to Business, to Biochem, to Business, and a hundred other ideas that never saw fruition.

All of this time I was simply trying to ‘identify’ who I am, and what I would do with my life. Also during this time, I did what I have always done. I wrote. I kept journals, wrote my own fiction, even dabbled in poetry. I did this to help alleviate stress because I loved to do it. You should see my old hard drive, it is filled with stuff from over 10 years’ worth of writing. Most of it is pretty… bad.  Anyways, during this journey to discover myself, the one thing that I loved most was always overlooked. It had never occurred to me to pursue it. I just assumed people when to school for English because they wanted to be a teacher, which I have no desire to do. I would be a really, really bad teacher. You know the type, really intolerant, evil, sarcastic ones that you dread getting. Yes, that would be me.

It wasn’t until I got involved in a very close fiction site that I truly began to think just maybe there is more to this than I thought. I started writing for fictionpress.com, for different fandoms just to keep writing. What started as a hobby to occupy my time turned into a passion that occupied my thoughts. My stories started winning awards, I was started to get a little credit, and a little following. I began to feel like maybe this wasn’t just a hobby.

When I was contacted by a publisher back in December, my world kind of halted. At the time, I didn’t have anything really to submit, but he urged me to keep writing. He said my writing was “effortlessly marketable” and engaging. I was left speechless. I spent the next few months attempting to not let it consume me too much. I had a wedding to plan, work to do, a daughter to raise. There was no way I could add writing a novel onto my to-do list too. Sure, I still wrote the stories that I had been posting to various sites with little issue, but that was different. That wasn’t published work; that was simply having fun and unwinding from a long day.

What finally gave me the push to go back to school? In the end it was one person. A person on one of the sites I frequented told me,

You are a great writer… but it’s more than that. It is the ideas, the emotion, and the passion that you breathe into your stories that makes me a fan.

I was so touched, and so moved by her thoughts, as she herself was a writer I thoroughly enjoyed, that in that exact moment I knew I wanted to go back to school. No matter what happens, this person will remain in my heart. I owe the courage I now have to pursue my passion to her. Thank you, my friend.

Why go back to school then, if I already had a following? I know my weaknesses. I can write so fast that sometimes, I make errors. It is always hard to edit your own stuff. The reason is you know what you are trying to say, and many times you skim over errors because you brain is already filling in what that line is supposed to say. I wanted to change that weakness. If I truly wanted to pursue writing, then I was going to give my readers the best that I could do. That night I spoke with my fiancé, and he supported my decision fully.

After looking into the options I had, I settled on English Language and Literature. True, I could have gone straight for Creative Writing as I originally intended, but writing is not my only goal. I want to take my own experience and ability and help others to succeed in their dreams. I enjoy editing and critiquing just as much as I enjoy writing my own works. It is my belief that interactions with other writers helps make your own writing that much stronger. To me, there is nothing better than surrounding yourself with what your passionate about, as well as people who share that same passion.

That is why Tuesday was a miraculous day for me. It was a day that symbolized my step forward into defining not only who I am, but who I want to be.

Toddlers: A Thought on Tantrums

Toddlers: A Thought on Tantrums

From the moment my daughter hit 18 months, we have been cautiously awaiting that time. The time all parents notice that their children, their adorable, sweet little children turn into stubborn, chaotic, vicious balls of terror: the Terrible Twos. I long thought that my charming daughter would not enter such a stage. She had such big innocent doe eyes, and the sweetest softest little voice that I just couldn’t imagine it morphing into a fearsome creature. How wrong I was. Be warned, you parents of angels, there is a demon lurking just under the surface.

It started with a little back talk, and a little whining every now and then. Occasionally when she got angry, she would smack things. Never you, or any person, simply the table or even her own leg. At first, it was a little comical, but not to worrisome. As time progressed, those cutesy antics progressed. Then it became the look. Yes, even her facial expressions communicated her rebellion. She would give us the look after we told her to do something, or if we did something she did not like. Normally, I can combat her artfully crafted look with a perfected one of my own that sends her scampering off to do my bidding. My fiance, the strong man that he is, has little hope against our precious angel. Men, such tough exteriors and yet such mushy interiors.

She generally ignores him when he tells her to do something, and then laughs if he gets angry. Now I know she is only two, not even two and a half yet, however there is something so utterly infuriating about a toddler laughing at your frustrations! And the talking back, sometimes I am rendered speechless at the things she says or does in retaliation.

Take for instance my Saturday morning. I had just returned from overseas, and was eager to spend time with my demon… err daughter. I poured a bowl of cereal for her, and one for me. Well she did not want the bowl I poured for her, so I gave her mine. Such a good little mommy, she thought. At least that’s what my mind thinks she was thinking. Well I did not like the cereal I gave her (was her favorite) so I decided to make some english muffins. I should have known better, I really should have. She decided, halfway through the cereal, that she did not want the cereal anymore, that she wanted my english muffins. So I informed her that she already had breakfast. She looked down at her little cereal bowl still half full of coco pebbles and milk, picked it up, and threw it on the floor. My jaw hit the ground along with it. She then looked at me. Right at me and said, “No I don’t.”

It was this moment the truth became clear to me. My daughter has gone from being a toddler with a slight attitude to a full on terrible two. I calmly put my perfectly toasted english muffins down, out of her reach of course, and walked into the other room. I counted to ten to ease the torrent of emotions within me before leaving the room with a tight smile. She did not get my english muffins, and she most certainly did not get any more breakfast. Instead, she sat on her adorable little rump and picked up all the coco pebbles and wiped the spilt (thrown) milk with paper towels.

Take this as a warning, all you in-denial-parents, your adorable little baby has a dark side! The cute laughs and bright eyes are just tricks to weaken you! They will get you when you least expect it. And yet you will love them all the more for it.
What about you? Do you have any funny terrible-twos (or beyond) stories to share?