A Breather

I couldn’t resist having my picture taken in front of this tourist trap with the word Curio in the name. The store was jam-packed with old-fashioned curio cabinets like the enchanted one in my recently completed novel. I confess I might’ve studied the contents to make sure nothing inside hinted at a magical universe.

We are back from a mini vacation in Glenwood Springs, Colorado. In an astonishing turn of events, we actually did do some relaxing. Family vacations have always been problematic for us, and often leave me wondering if other families work so hard to have fun only to succumb to internal friction.

I expect that despite Facebook photo albums showing smiley togetherness, most vacations involve whining, frustration and one or two small disasters. At least I hope we’re not the only ones.

I have a friend who refers to “Facebook Families” as a tongue-in-cheek commentary on all those perfect photo albums and squeaky proud parent statuses. When I’m having a less than FB-worthy moment, she reminds me that everyone has those moments. They just don’t post them.

I tend to take a more honest approach to life. Breathe In Breathe Out has featured my messy journey through womanhood, motherhood, and my writing pursuits.

But I’ve always gotten the most responses to my candid posts about raising a son who faces multiple challenges including Sensory Processing Disorder, ADHD and Anxiety.

It’s been a relief for me to be honest about the struggles we face. And it’s been an honor to receive comments from moms dealing with similar circumstances.

But as you may have noticed, I’ve been posting less frequently. There are a couple reasons for this.

First, since this blog is supposed to be humorous, I feel like a failure when I’m not funny. But guess what, sometimes life isn’t funny.

Second, I’ve been focusing my dubious mental powers on writing and editing my latest book.

Third, I’ve been struggling with how to proceed with this blog. For a long time I couldn’t pinpoint what was bothering me. The answer came in a gradual sort of way, and, at the same time, all at once—rather like watching your children grow up before your eyes, then one day looking over to find this full-sized human you thought was an extension of yourself, but who is really a completely separate and wonderful individual.

Breathe In Breathe Out has been about my journey, but it’s not just my journey anymore. In reality, it never was, but I shared it from my perspective—as a mother of a special needs child.

But this is also my son’s journey. I see that more every day. And as he heads into middle school, I need to be more careful with how much of his life I share. It’s HIS life! It’s mine too, but, yeah, you get it.

Although I love to encourage moms who face similar struggles, even that calling takes a backseat to ensuring both of my sons' privacy as they face the challenge of growing up.

I know you will understand as Breathe In Breathe Out takes a breather (hee hee.) I will still share funny anecdotes as they ambush me and glimpses into the spiral of insanity I call my career.

And I hope that my journey into writing YA fiction, which I LOVE, will spawn an entirely new web presence—maybe a cool alter ego who eats sushi and runs marathons. Then again, maybe I’ll stick to eating cheese and reading books.

Thanks for being my friend here on Breathe In Breathe Out. I’m thankful for every person who has read this blog. I hope you’ll stick around as I rethink, reimagine, repurpose, and redesign my focus. I’m pretty sure it’s going to require a new wardrobe. And some new shoes. Yes, definitely new shoes.

Human Again

I’ve found myself humming this song over the past couple of weeks. Between my extremely restrictive diet and my commitment to write two thousand words every day, March hasn’t been much fun.

When I think about things I want to do, like eat a piece of cheese, read Cassandra Clare’s Clockwork Princess, or get a pedicure, I say to myself, “I can do that in April when I’m human again.”

When my friends ask how long I’ll be doing this ludicrous diet, I answer, “I’ll be human again in April.”

When my husband asks if we could have a conversation about something other than airships and clockwork people, I tell him, “When I get this book done, I’ll be human again.”

When Monkey asked me why I had so much gray hair, well, I couldn't say “I’ll have dark hair in April when I’m human again.” Monkey is a literal child and comes up with enough reasons to panic on his own. When he asked, “Is it because we’re driving you nuts?” I told him that was just something moms say. Then I promised to get my hair colored in April.

It may seem like I’ve become some unkempt, starving, cranky writer. It seems that way to me some days. But in fact, this month taught me some really valuable lessons.

1. I CAN write fast if I need to.
2. I CAN stick to a schedule and prioritize tasks.
3. I CAN encourage my boys to take more responsibility for their own needs.

For most of my writing journey, when outside pressures pulled at me, I’d tell myself, “You need to put ______ first. After all, you don’t have a contract, so you’re not a real writer.”

Yeah, it was a stupid, unprofessional message to give myself, but I don’t have to explain Mom Guilt to you. Some mornings it beats you to the coffee pot.

But having this goal to finish my novel before the conference I’m attending next month legitimized the decision to put my writing first. It forced me to do laundry and meal planning on the weekend. Ok, so the meal planning involved dumping ingredients together and freezing them and having convenience foods on hand for the kids. But for me that's huge. My kids are going to look back on my deadlines with fondness, remembering those weeks as the only times Mom let them have Hot Pockets.

And by getting my word count done during the day, I had more focus for mom stuff in the evenings.

You might not think it to look at me with my grays showing and my house in disarray, but my month as a full-on crazy writer has done me and my family good.

But don’t get me wrong. I’m ready to be human again.