Born Under a Lucky Moon ~ Book Review

Born Under a Lucky Moon, by Dana Precious

I'm not quite sure our main character, Jeannie, WAS born under a lucky moon at all, but she sure was born into a family who lived their day to day under a FULL one, if you ask me!

Jeannie Thompson was someone I enjoyed reading about. I kind of wanted to be her friend and knock some sense into her now and then. And her family? Well, to say they were interesting would be to shortchange their eccentricities. They were a wild bunch.

From her crazy grandma who raced her wheelchair into a lemonade stand, NAKED to her mother throwing a surprise wedding for one of her sisters who was already married, a wedding to be thrown the day AFTER their brother's wedding was already planned. Oh, and by the way, to their new not yet sister-in-law, Anna ... can sister Lucy wear your wedding dress after you do?

WHAT?

A whirlwind of love, emotion and humility. Loads of embarrassment and lunacy (Grandma went a little crazy staying at the family home - crazier than usual, not that one wonders why). Strength and backbone.

We learn most of the story as Jeannie relays it to the current love of her life. She's terrified to fully invest in him as she thinks he'll run off when he meets her family. I can't say I blame her, and when we hear that she's been hurt before, we back her up even more.

Then we "meet" her ex. What an @ss. She's better off without him. But Aidan ... there is something about Aidan that we like and we trust and we feel right about. And ultimately we want Jeannie to open her eyes and feel it, too.

Overall I enjoyed this book. There were some parts that I felt were relevant enough, but did make the book a bit long for a slow reader. Fortunately, I'm not one of those, so I was able to persevere and enjoy the story. I'll admit I liked the family history more than the current day stuff, and understood the purpose was to share the story with Aidan and with us, the readers, but there were a few times where I just said, you know, I could do without the movie industry and the Jeannie's competitive and concerned for her job nature.

I do feel that it all came together in the end, and actually, was probably more purposeful throughout than I am making it sound. It just lengthened the story some, and I think that there will be a handful of people who pick up the book, look at the size and move on. I'm going to suggest that if that is you - you don't keep going, but you pick it up and dive right in.

And enjoy it. Especially when you get to the parts about Grandma. Man, that woman was one crazy old broad!

** I was not compensated in any way for this review. I was provided with a copy of the book to facilitate my review. All expressed opinions are strictly my own.**

Coffee Talk ...

Please do not click on any of these links if you are not of legal age ...

So, let's talk.

I've decided that my post today will be a combination informative post and GIVEAWAY. I don't do that many giveaways, but when I spoke to someone over at EdenFantasys and they said I could give my code to someone else after I submitted my post, I figured, how fun! It's post-Valentine's Day, but we all know how that holiday can be SUCH a letdown, right?

So why not spice up your life a little bit?

Have you not checked out the EdenFantasys website yet?

If not, you really should.

What? Those kinds of things don't interest you? No? I get that. I'm not a frequenter of those erotica shoppes, myself.

But this is different. You can find some cute stuff there. Stuff you and your partner can enjoy. Or, hey, let's be honest, just you.

Take this massage candle (and if you win you'll have enough money on your Love Card to actually BUY this!) here: Shunga Massage Candle ... it just seems like a nice, calming and relaxing treat. Even better if you have someone to share it with, but I could certainly make do by rubbing my own feet if I HAD to.

Shunga apparently also make massage creams, and get this! They're edible. You could actually purchase two of these with the love card you can win here in my 'hood.

So, what are you waiting for? Just respond and let me know what you think you'd want to buy with your giftcard (likely amount to be $30, to be determined at a later date) to enter.

And should you want one extra entry, feel free to tweet about this with this example or whatever you come up with:

I entered to win an #EdenFantasys Love Card with @goodgirlgonered here http://bit.ly/gt3gJl

And provide the link for me and you're all set.

Thanks for playing! And hope you win and find something you'll truly enjoy.

Giveaway end date has not yet been determined. I will wait until I have the Love Card code in-hand to announce end date.

**I have not been compensated in any way for this post at this time. EdenFantasys has promised me a gift card code for $25-$30 once I have completed this post, and I have decided to pass that along to one of my lucky readers**

A winner was chosen today, Wednesday, March 9th as per Random.org:
Comment #2 is our winner! Congratulations, Crystal! I'll be emailing you shortly!

Inconceivable ~ Book Review

By now you may have already heard of Carolyn and Sean Savage. I'll be honest, I hadn't. Not until I saw a blurb about their book and decided that I just had to read it. So while I anxiously awaited the book's arrival, I avoided all of the various discussions about the couple on the news, the interviews with shows like Today, and whatever else was available for me, as I didn't want to know all the details until I got through the book.

Inconceivable arrived on Friday afternoon, and I finished it on Monday. Three days later. My life, for those three days, evolved around the Savage family and their -- what -- tragedy? Turmoil? Blessing?

So few words fit the situation appropriately.

See, Carolyn and Sean Savage had a family of five. But they weren't complete. They had conceived their daughter MK via IVF, and when they did so they had several embryos frozen, waiting to join their lives. So they gave it one more go. And Carolyn was, indeed, pregnant. Hooray! What a beautiful and emotional moment.

And then, not.

Not quite beautiful. I mean, every pregnancy can be looked at as beautiful. And hers was. But not - what - not what they expected. Truly emotional, as finding out you are pregnant can be, expected or not. But not all the right emotions. Not this time.

There was a mix-up at the fertility clinic and the lab impregnated Carolyn with the wrong embryos. Carolyn was pregnant, but not with her and Sean's baby.

Impossible. Right? Pregnant? Finally? And it wasn't their child?

As a woman I cannot imagine how violated Carolyn felt, how she entrusted her body to science and it failed her. As a mother I cannot imagine the moment of realizing that I did, indeed, have a baby inside of me and the thrill of feeling how I would grow to love that child, and then, suddenly, learning this baby was not truly mine.

This book was overwhelming, and incredible. I don't know how much of their story you know, so I don't want to give it all away, just in case. I mean, just reading the back of the book you learn that they live in Ohio with their two sons and one daughter, so you get that baby [boy] never joined their immediate family. You know this, early on, is the plan. And yet, the ups and downs, the true emotions felt by the family, friends, loved ones ... you second guess a little bit along the way.

Will they be able to give up this baby? What will that be like for them?

As a reader, a mother, it's unfathomable to me. And yet, I got it. I read. I turned page after page and I learned about them, their support system, and I got it.

It didn't hurt ME any less as I reach each chapter of their journey, so I can only pretend to imagine how it was for them.

This book is a powerfully worded story, of truth, love, compassion, and, as the subtitle says, 'the Ultimate Gift.'

I recommend it as an interesting read, and think if it were not a true story it would have boded well as a mystery, of sorts, and an emotional family tale. But knowing that it IS true. It happened to these people. I can only breathe a sigh of relief when I turn the final page.

I will add that my copy is a proof copy, so I'm missing the final note by the authors. I also have to confess that I'm thankful in some regards that it was a proof copy. Because that image at the top of my post? That cover photo? I didn't have to look at it as I flew through the book. I don't know if I would have been able to handle seeing them every time I picked it up, because it breaks my heart what they went through together. Because every time I see that picture, my heart breaks for them just a little bit more. Because now, after reading? I feel like I know them. Like they are my friends. I can't judge, I can't guess, I can't even fully imagine, and I certainly cannot understand. I just read. And encourage you to. If you're interested in hearing their experience from them.

And yet, I also kind of want to pick up a copy at the bookstore so I can at least read their final thoughts. Because I can't imagine what life is like for them now. A family of five, that was six, briefly, before one had to go away.


** I was not compensated in any way for this review. I was provided with a copy of the book to facilitate my review. All expressed opinions are strictly my own.**

Graduation Day

I walked down the street with the rest of my graduating class. All of us, swathed in black. A sea of darkness as we walked, side-by-side, to the main auditorium.

Did I really KNOW anyone there? A few former classmates. A few faces were recognizable in the blur of our movement as we walked ahead. Following the trail of the robes that swayed before us.

Into the auditorium.

I thought to myself, amazing. You're actually here. You're actually going to walk across that stage and accept that diploma.

I had put over 5 years into this. I started off one class at a time, not sure I'd truly want to apply for the official program. Not sure I deserved a chance at a second career. In my lifetime, was it fair that I stopped the work I'd been doing for over nine years and moved ahead into something I had more passion for? Was it okay for me to do this?

So many memories ... I remember the day, way back when, when I started that first class. Nervous. Excited. Overwhelmed. Totally unsure. And on the edge of my seat the entire time. So new. So young.

Weeks in I can recall sitting across a table from my boyfriend at the time. He asked me why I really wanted to do this. I remember the emotion. The response. The frustration I felt when I knew he didn't get it. I remember telling him that one of my best friends was constantly undermining me when I spoke about school. A Master's program.

Why? Why would you do that? Why do you want to? ... she asked that and more.

I shared with him that I felt she was envious. I probably said jealous. She'd barely gotten through her first degree and wanted to do what I was doing. Whatever stopped her, it did. I never judged. I was a proud and supportive friend. She was stuck.

But was that any reason to try to discourage ME? Hold ME back?

No. No it wasn't.

I walked along. Sea of black. This was my time. It was my turn. My day.

I looked around for my family. My husband. My HUSBAND? I had a husband now. Wow, so much had changed. My parents. My brother. As at many a graduation before. My sister-in-law. My brother was married now, too.

I walked. I looked. I walked. I looked.

I found them. I laughed. I forget at what, exactly. My brother - probably. I can see the pictures in my mind's eye as I write this. My bright smile. The way my parents looked. My mom probably wiping away a tear or two.

Sit. And stand. Sit again. And stand again.

And wait. Walk. Walk. Step by step. Up to the stage. Listening for my name. Looking out at the crowd. There it was. My turn to walk across the stage. Take with the left. Shake with the right. Or something. Turn and smile. Flashbulbs. Or digital cameras. Me, someone else? It didn't matter.

This was my day.

And I was damned proud of myself.

This post was written in response to a prompt over at Writer's Workshop : Describe a time when someone was proud of you.

I am sharing this post again for the May 30th prompt for The Red Dress Club. It's important to re-use and recycle, so I'm doing so with posts, as well!

Mommy Confessions

I have to admit this.

I freak out a little bit when my child gets sick.

And no - no - it's totally not what you think! It's not because I'm worried about her fragile little being falling to pieces under a fever. Are you kidding? She'll outlast us all, trust me!

It's because ... and I hesitate to confess this ...

I DO NOT WANT TO GET SICK!

She's got a cold right now. I'm thinking to myself, tonight, as I got her to sleep. She laid on top of me. Must have said 'I love you, Mommy,' about a dozen times.

I love you, too, sweetie. [Please don't get mommy sick! Please don't get mommy sick!]

See, she has my husband's immune system. Or she may as well have it.

Me? Not so much. I have my mother's immune system. Allergies and all. When I get sick I'm down for the count for way longer than a human being should be down.

So I'm overloading on the Vitamin C. Hyping up the OJ, and trying to wash my hands about 900 MORE times a day.

Think it'll work? Think I'll be protected? You do?

Eh, I'm not so sure.

Is there truly a way to protect a parent from the coughing, congestion, phlegm, puking, snotty tissues and clingy-ness that is a four-year-old who needs them?

I think not.

And I'll also confess ... I wouldn't change that for the world.

Except - ehem - for the fact that I usually get sick afterward. OOPS.

Reckless

I was such a fool. I mean, seriously. I knew he liked my best friend in "that way," so why did I even bother?

I was friends with him. He was one of my best guy friends. He looked at me as just a friend. I knew that. I would never NOT know that. I could never not know that.

My best friend didn't like him. Not that way. But she flirted. It was fun. We were in high school. Why wouldn't she flirt? I would have. Wouldn't you?

And yet, there I was. In his bedroom.

He kind of had his own apartment. His parents - his father, at least - lived upstairs. Maybe it was his mother? I honestly don't think I'd ever met either of them.

He was so reckless. The bad boy. The bad boy who did what? Nothing, truly. He wasn't that bad. He just liked to pretend he was. Right?

I mean, sure, he smoked. But so many kids our age did. Did he drink? I don't know. Didn't everyone? I didn't, not really. Maybe sometimes when we had a sleepover, or we all kind of hung out at someone's house. Safest place to be.

He was never there. He wasn't friends with that crowd. Maybe some of the girls. But the guys, nah. They wanted nothing to do with him.

And if my *other* closest guy friend from that time were to speak to me now (if I could find him, but that's a whole 'nother story) he'd bring up the old days. Mention how wrong I was to be friends with him. Or something. It'd be the kind of thing that stuck with me forever, if those friends all had. I'm sure.

And nobody really knows this. It wasn't something I freely shared. He was such a tease.

My parents hated him. My mom, especially. Never trusted him. The other friend, with my life. This one, not so much. But she'd let him come over and watch movies. Late into the night, on the living room floor. Nothing ever happened.

Hair tousling, laying on one another. Resting. Bodies touching. But nothing there. Slight pulsing through my own, thinking, what if? Maybe some day? And yet knowing. Knowing I was "just the friend" and he had much more in mind for other girls.

But yet, I stayed. I stayed friends with him. Through much of college, even. Probably wrote unrequited poetry about him. Ask my roommate. And current best friend. She would remember me, sitting at my desk, writing. "And who's this one about, Ang?" she'd ask. Her - and only her [minus one or two friends later in life, and my cousin's husband who passed - why a nickname brings forth so much memory for me - amazing isn't it?] - nickname for me.

And yet, there I was. In his bedroom.

We watched television for a while. A movie? Two? I have no idea. We made silly bets with one another. He knew he toyed with my heart. Tugged on the strings a little too much. Laughed. Smiled. Loudly. Too loudly in the small space that encompassed us both.

I think back and say to myself ... if my daughter finds a friend like him, I'll tell her. Warn her. Tell her to walk away. Try to shield her heart from being maimed or broken.

Mine was never truly broken. But maimed - sure - just a bit.

And yet, there I was. In his bedroom.

We shut the TV. Lay in the dark. Talking. Laughing. Talking. He leaned over. I can still remember it. I was 16? 17? 18 - even? We were so close. TOO close. Talking about a foolish bet. A joke. Somehow it wasn't funny anymore. His breath drawing closer. We'd been this close before. But this was different now. Why? I don't know. Or I do. I knew something was going to happen. Not sure why it would, or what he was thinking. Planning? Something?

He leaned in and kissed me.

Somehow, suddenly. Over me. On his bed. There was nowhere else to sit.

A kiss.

We'd kissed before. Like friends.

This? This was not a friendly kiss.

I knew he did not want more. I knew I could have, but wouldn't as he didn't.

My first real kiss. The first time I felt passion, or compassion, in that certain way.

Why? I have no idea.

It never happened again. I knew it never would.

We stayed close friends. Went to separate colleges, but close enough that now and then he'd come to visit me. We'd hang out together, with my roommate (that best girlfriend he always had his eye on), with other friends.

We lost touch, eventually. I stumbled across someone who knew him at their school. Random. Ironic? Something of a not normal nature.

Even more so? She was dating him. Or she had been.

What has happened to him since then?

If I only knew.

====

This memory DOES still affect me. You can surely tell that. My guess is that while you were reading it, you, yourself, wondered what happened. Did the relationship move on? Why is she talking about this now?

I have no idea.

Maybe because I recently wrote about the start of my relationship with my husband. Maybe because at that point I kind of wanted to skim through old (handwritten) journals to see what my thoughts, dreams and life were like back in the day. My ex-boyfriend on my mind a bit. And then this person - from my past. Sometimes I would have the dream that I would run into him somewhere. Show him how much he gave up when he didn't want me.

Isn't that often the case? Hasn't every woman or man had an imaginary high school reunion where you go back and are ... choose any or all ... thinner, richer, prouder, more famous, happier, brighter or whatever else you can think of to fill in that blank? Whether you just want these things for yourself, so everyone can see you for who you are, or you want to be more of those things over the people who missed out on you, who you lost touch with, who you think of now and then and say - where'd you go?

This also kind of makes me want to pull out my high school yearbook. Read what he, and all the other people in my life who were SO essential, so important to me back then, had written remind me of how special I was, how incredible, how our friendship would be forever. How it would NEVER die.

And yet, as we all know, so many of them do. They fade away as we move on to college, the work-force, families of our own.

There are ways to track people down. The Internet. Facebook. Twitter. Classmates and other connecting websites. I avoid many of them like the plague, but love when my mom connects with someone that I DO care about. Someone I DO wonder about. Like an old girlfriend I lost track of when we both worked and went to school in Manhattan. She now has two kids, me my one. Amazing how things change.

Why did I flash back to this? Why do I remember it the way that I do?

I can see the room, I don't even have to close my eyes to bring myself back there. I can feel the emotion, the anxiety, that pulsing. I never told anyone that he had kissed me. Why would I? Then it'd be laughed off, made fun of, maybe? Maybe he even knew that I'd never talk about it? Maybe that's why he did it?

Whatever it was, why-ever [so not a word, I know] it happened, it is something I'll carry with me, tucked away for always, as it was really and truly the first time I'd been kissed like that. In such a way that for a sweet second, everyone else in the world, all the people we knew, the reasons that were there or not there, mattered not, and all that mattered was the simplest kiss.

For there I was. In his bedroom.

This post is in response to this week's memoir prompt at The Red Dress Club.

Presents for YOU!

My baby's birthday was two weeks ago. I cannot believe she turned four. It totally freaks me out. I can't breathe. I am in awe that I have survived motherhood these past years.

I've avoided any major injuries, like head bumps on a corner TV stand, or the edge of the couch. Though I did once have her lean forward and get her first goose egg on her noggin on our TV tray (so much for that!). SIgh.

And while it's true that there are some days I'm not quite sure I'll make it til 5PM, I am proud to say that I not only DO make it, I actually continue to thrive, as does my child. Amazing ... isn't it?

There are other days that I am cranky after having simply opened my eyes for mere minutes, and many more when I just want to crawl back into bed. But I don't. I move forward. I celebrate! (Or I try to!)

Anyway - I have a present for YOU in celebration of my surviving yet another year of being mommy. Are you intrigued? You should be ... now listen up.

Have you shopped on CSN before?

NO?

Are you kidding me? Seriously?

Well, I have the perfect giveaway for you!


CSN has offered a code worth $45 to one of my readers. You can easily find something at that price range, and could possibly purchase two items, as well! (That's what I did the last time I spent that same amount. See my review for the infamous bundt pan here!)

I have a few ways for you to enter this giveaway, so keep on reading:

Mandatory Entry:
- Tell me what you will be spending your $$ on. Literally provide me with a link. Or a product name, at least. You MUST do this to be considered a valid participant of this giveaway.

Extra Entries:
- Follow me through GFC (1 entry)
- Tweet about this giveaway and include @goodgirlgonered and #Giveaway (1 entry)
- Comment on another post of mine from the last week or two and let me know where it is (1 entry - maximum)
- Random request, but tell me the name/author of the best book you've ever read (1 entry)

Winner will be chosen on February 28th. Winner will be contacted by email and have 48 hours to respond. Please ensure that your email is in your profile or in your comments because if I am unable to contact you a second winner will be immediately drawn. Sorry if that sounds snarky, but I don't have the time to track you peeps down! ;)

Good luck, everyone!
** I was not compensated in any way for this post. I will receive a code for the $45 to give to the winner of this giveaway from CSN Stores. Image from CSN website. **

And there it was.

It amazed me that he stood there before me. What kind of joke was this, anyway? I had finally found myself moving on. Slowly. Surely. Taking baby steps each day. And now this?

I heard myself laugh out loud. He looked over at me. Was that concern? Puzzlement? Confusion? What, exactly? Damned if I knew.

Only a week before I couldn't stop thinking about him. After all these months there it was. A reminder. A huge reminder.

I had been cleaning up, or trying to. Getting myself ready for winter, which had seemingly kick-started the day before. I stood there and pulled shorts and T-shirts from my dresser drawers. Instead of moving slowly, carefully, I tore through the piles of clothing, tossing things left and right. Made my way to my closet, digging through the racks, shelves, whatever I came across.

Onto the bed, the floor, hanging from the doorknob. Wherever there was space, I used it. And then - there it was. I picked up my fluffy blue bathrobe and started to laugh. It was so soft, so cozy. And then I remembered.

I sat down on my bed, my body unsteady. Before I knew it I was laughing so hard tears streamed down my face. My memory never failed me, she wouldn't now. Even when I wanted her to.

I drifted back to that morning. The doorbell rang. I was in the shower, he was in bed. Barely decent. He needed to answer it. For some reason. Maybe he knew who it was? He had to get the door. I don't really remember why.

What to do, where were his clothes? He grabbed this robe and threw it on. I had heard him mumbling as the water rained down over my head, my face. My mind a blank as the hot stream pelted my neck and shoulders. I relaxed. Breathed heavily. I could have stayed in there all day. Maybe I should have.

By the time I stepped out, dripping, sopping, completely soaked ... he stood there before me, box in hand, my fluffy and soft blue robe tied around him.

I stifled a chuckle. "Who was it?" I asked him. He held up the box. "What's in the box?" I continued. He shrugged. "Wha--" He placed it down gently, shuffled it over to the side with his bare foot. He touched my cheek. I held my breath, backed up a little. Looked up at him. Reaching for me. I pulled back, slowly. Hesitantly. My resistance was not real. It never was. I exhaled. "We have to get going," I told him, turning away from him.

"Sssh." A whisper. Barely audible. His hands on my shoulders. My towel falling to the floor.

Sometimes the warmth of his touch amazed me. His hands, the strength of his grasp was too much for my heart to take, too much for my body not to respond to. He dropped my robe, and before we knew it we were face to face. He smelled like morning.

I shook my head. No need to live in those memories. No need to pain myself that way. Remember the good times. Why bother, right? He was gone now.

Only then - he wasn't. He stood here. In my living room. In front of me. No way out.

"Hey?"

I turned, tried to focus. Looked over at him. "Huh?"

"You're shivering." I half-nodded, unaware of my body's betrayal. "Are you cold? Maybe you should put this on?"

There, in his hand, up above his head ... my fluffy and soft blue robe.

I heard myself sigh. Loudly.

Write a piece - 600 word limit - about finding a forgotten item of clothing in the back of a drawer or closet. Let us know how the item was found, what it is, and why it's so meaningful to you or your character.

The Red Dress Club.

Walking With Elephants ~ Book Review

I have to tell you straight off the bat that the cover of this book is what drew me in. It wasn't just the description and information I received, but this image is almost haunting, isn't it?

And yet -- the book itself? Totally nothing like the cover.

I enjoyed the read. It was mostly light, somewhat intriguing, but not at all in a mysterious kind of way. I still feel, looking at the image here of the cover, that perhaps it was mixed up with something else? Another book? Some other work? Just somewhere ... anywhere ... else.

I know that sounds cliche, as though I'm judging a book by its cover and all, which I did. And don't tell me you don't do it. We have to sometimes. We look at the cover and it draws us in. Makes us want more. This cover totally did that, so someone on Ms. Bell's staff definitely had the right idea. Thing is, it doesn't mesh with the story at all.

OK, that out of the way (yes, twice, I know), I did like the book. I liked the main character, who was a working mother with three children, a husband she barely saw or connected with, and a recent re-connection with a man from her past. She's got a best friend who needs her as much as you'd expect a child to, and yet, these children don't. Not really.

We're wrapped up in Suze (our primary character) and her world, some of her home-life, a little bit about her kids, and then mostly work, work and more work. We do get some wonderful scenes between her and her co-worker Elliott (who I adored, completely) and I have to confess that parts of his life seem more interesting than the day to day we're otherwise exposed to. Which is the point, I believe. Elliott is the kind of man who talks in hushed tones, lives a whirlwind life and is already planning to quit his job and start a business of some sort with his latest love interest.

I'll be honest, I totally want an Elliott spin-off!

I know that this review may make things sound dreary, but it's not all that bad. Suze is in a position that many working moms experience, and she seems to be tired of it. She's also stuck with a backstabbing b!tch of a colleague at work, who turns into a backstabbing b!tch of a boss. And we all know how that can be, I'm sure.

I'm not sure if the cliched aspects of the story bothered me, or helped me relate to her more, but I think it was a [mostly] light and easy read. I would like to know more about Suze, and I'd like to read more about her and what happens next. But I also want her to develop more of a backbone. And once she does that I think we have our sequel. If the author were to be so inclined. And if not, no biggie -- as long as we get more of Elliott!


** This review was scheduled via TLC Book Tours. I was not compensated in any way for my post and all opinions expressed are strictly my own. I did receive a copy of this book to facilitate my review. **

Shared Memories ...

We sat there, drinks in hand, me wallowing, him trying to cheer me up.

"Don't you think he's sitting somewhere, regretting what he gave up?"

I shook my head. Looked over at him. So sweet. Trying to make me feel better.

"No, I don't." I wiped a tear from my face. Or not. Was I crying? Or did I just feel like I wanted to? I thought about my ex-boyfriend. Knew he'd probably already moved on. To her. Of all people. I seethed under my skin. And yet ... "I know it's right. I know we're not supposed to be together. I'm not even sad that we're over. It's just, ugh." I stopped. Started again. "We don't belong together." I went on and on. I could barely catch hold of my thoughts.

He sat there. We were sitting so close to one another. I could practically smell the beer in his glass. Me, with my cider, nearly gone. I watched as he took his final sip. He stood up.

"Another?" I think I shrugged. He smiled. I can still see it. Feel it.

"Yeah, sure. Thanks."

I watched him walk away. My heart jumped a little bit. I took a deep breath.

No, no, no. No, Andrea. No. You've been down this road before.

I'd tell him that, eventually. Months, maybe only weeks, later. I'd pull away. I'd feel overwhelmed. I'd feel terrified.

I couldn't risk it. I couldn't do it again.

I watched as he walked back to where I sat, drinks in hand. Friends of ours played pool nearby. I caught the eye of my closest friend, who winked at me. Shut up, I mouthed. My friend laughed and went back to his game. I probably stuck my tongue out, maybe even winked back. I was real mature. Still am, you know?

Looked back across the table, to my side. Wherever he was. Made eye contact, smiled without looking away. Threw back a few, face to face, playfully clinking glasses.

He reminded me, several times, what my ex had lost. Let go. Expressed concern for me. Confusion of how someone could give up so easily. Supported me. Told me I could move on. I would move on.

Maybe this memory is mixing with another. I had many a moment in that place. Maybe when I think back I can't figure out which night was which, in which moment I truly recognized what was going on behind those eyes of his.

He met my closest friends there. They swore he liked me. I said he had a girlfriend. They laughed it off. I had a boyfriend. They shrugged. They insisted. I laughed. Nervous. Giddy. Childish? A little.

Memories that flash back. The intensity. The attraction. The sparks. They never fade, even when we don't have the opportunity to ignite them as often as we used to.

Looking up at him, in that moment knowing that no matter how things progressed, he'd be someone in my life for years to come. Knowing, suddenly, that there were good guys out there. Who would validate and support you. And eventually, prove to you that love truly does exist and you - my dear, sweet girl - are worthy of it.

This post has been in conjunction with the Red Dress Club and their first memoir prompt: After you have died, your daughter/son will be given the gift of seeing a single five-minute period of your life through your eyes, feeling and experiencing those moments as you did when they occurred. What five minutes would you have him/her see?

Anxiety is a b!tch ...

Photo obtained from Photbucket.com

Right now my daughter is walking around the living room, batting about the balloons my husband picked up for her the morning of her fourth birthday. The sound of the Mylar is causing me to stop and take some deep breaths before I lose it.

Breathe in ...

Today is the first day in a while that it's just been the two of us for the day. My parents came in on Wednesday, and left Sunday morning. My in-laws arrived on Friday, and left this morning. Hubby was home since Thursday, and is back to work today.

Breathe out ...

And so I'm trying to make sure I have stuff for us to do. She's already opened two of her birthday presents today. And I bought two new Valentine's books to give her later. And we have a playdate to walk over to this afternoon. Which should be fun.

Breathe in ...

I miss my parents already.

Breathe out ...

Needless to say, the slightest of sounds is setting me off. My massage chair thing-y is actually hurting my eyes a little bit.
*Which is so not cool, since it is supposed to be doing is HELPING me relax, ya know?*

Breathe out ...

It probably doesn't help that I have recently switched my medication. I was on one medication since the end of my pregnancy, and my doctor recently discussed whether or not I felt like it was working. And I did. For the most part.

Breathe in ...

See, my PPA (postpartum anxiety) is totally heightened as my child gets older. It's likely a combination of this and my generalized anxiety (which I am pretty sure I had pre-motherhood) that impact me in the way that sets me off in such a mode that I cannot focus and don't know which way to turn.

Breathe in ...

So, like just now, I sometimes turn to Disney Junior (or whatever the DisneyChannel is called these days!) and The Imagination Movers to help me out. *This episode is just a teeny tiny bit annoying - but aren't they all?*

Breathe in ...

Because even the sound of the huge container of colorful goldfish is rubbing me the wrong way.
*I really should get her a small bowl for those.*

Breathe out ...

So when my doctor and I spoke a bit, and my daughter was there at the appointment with me ... I think it was pretty obvious that my anxiety was ruling me a bit more than I was ruling it.

Breathe in ...

So we switched things up a bit. And the last week or two were a bit hellish, but I think I'm getting back on track now. Which is good. Very. VERY. Very good.

Breathe out ...

But I must confess that sometimes even when I stop and take that moment to breathe, I can't always catch myself and set up a buffer before I tend to snap or shout for some unknown or established reason.

Breathe out ...

But I continue to try, and that, that is the most important thing of all.

Breathe in ...

Because although some days will be rougher and tougher than others, and other days will be completely intense and heavy and I won't want to get out of bed ... I always will. Because I have a little girl to be there for. And a life to live. And so much more to think of than just the things that sometimes make me cringe.

And breathe out.

*And a half hour later I'm finally finished writing this post! And, bonus of all bonuses, Toy Story is on now! Woo hoo!*

Stream of Consciousness: How do you think?

I'm participating in Stream of Consciousness Sunday today over at All Things Fadra.

Check it - check it - check it out.



It's 5:27 on Sunday and my daughter's fourth birthday party was last night. It was a lot of fun, but my goodness did it go crazy fast. At one point my husband turned to me and said, 'It's 20 to Seven,' and my response was to look at him with my pretty hazel eyes and say, 'WHAT?' I nearly lost my mind. How was it possible that our party was almost over? We hadn't even had cake or said happy birthday yet. Sang, I meant to write sang. But I'm not allowed to edit here, though I actually cheated and went back to fix my semi-sort of-quotation marks. Hope that is OK. If not, ah - well - what can I do? I'm done. By the time you read this I will have hit publish, ya know?

Anyway, her party was - for HER - LOADS of fun. We had it at a play place with a crazy swing-set type of play area INSIDE. All sorts of awesome-sauce.

Have I mentioned how although I sort of hate the word awesome, and kind of get the chills and feel ill when I use it (not nearly as badly as when I read the word [if you can even CALL it that] *prolly* - which you saw me complain about recently if you follow me on Twitter), I really and truly enjoy the word awesome-sauce.

I do. Maybe that makes me a dork, or something, but I kind of jumped on the awesome-sauce bandwagon.

And so, back to the party with a minute or so to go. It was fun for me, too, and I got to see some friends I hadn't in ages, or practically in ever [I'm lookin' at YOU, Single Mom in the South - link to be added after the 5 minutes are up ... eta. you can find her here] and I really think overall it was lots of fun.

And my parents left this AM, and my ILs leave tomorrow, and we're all alive, happy and totally well. And so - at 5:32 PM, I bid Stream of Consciousness Sunday farewell.

Smooches.

p.s. I've got this in the oven right now, so if you're trying to find something to make for dinner this week, trust me, you'll want to check it out. If it's good enough for me to serve to my mother-in-law, it's good enough for your family, too. I promise! ;)

I could never have imagined ...

My baby girl turned four today (yesterday, if you're looking at the time). Motherhood is absolutely incredible, isn't it? I mean, the last moments before and the first moments after? Crystal clear. Things I will never EVER forget.

I could never have imagined ...

... that my last pre-motherhood meal would wind up being grilled cheese and french fries at the hospital cafeteria.

... that my baby would enter the world two weeks early. WHAT?

... the sound of my own mother's voice when I called her back to let her know that, yes, I WAS at the hospital.

... that my water would break while I was on the phone with one of my closest friends as I sat on the floor of my bedroom in my fairly new home, unpacking a box of random things.

Don't ask me where I was sitting for the rest of this discussion. Buy you want to know, don't you? On the potty. Before I called it that. To everyone. And their mothers. Could YOU ever imagine?

... what life would be like a few months after she was born. The crying. The colic. The reflux. The exhaustion. Have I mentioned the crying?

... that a hair dryer would be an essential item in my "keeping my baby calm" repertoire. And yes, I am quite serious. Never tried it? New moms, be prepared. You totally SHOULD. And WILL. And then you'll thank me. I promise.

... the years after.

The love, the intensity, the exhaustion, the emotions, the screaming, the laughing, the amazing things she says and does ... the way her smile lights up a room, the way she laughs and makes me do whatever it was I did that made her laugh *again* ... even the way she bosses people around, in a sweet and nice way. Or not. Her sassy side. And then some. The way she sings. The way she dances. The way she moves with abandonment no matter where she is or what she is wearing. How she pairs stripes with polka dots, blocks with trucks and fairies with dreidels. How she saved branches from our Christmas tree, points out stop signs and white trucks and pretend barks at motorcycles because our dog does. The way she calls our cats "buddy" and "sweetie" ... the way she pets them and makes sweet sounds to them as she calls them to her. The way she talks about how she has four cats but used to have six and two are in Kitty Cat Hea"b"en. The way she knows that my Nana is in heaven, too. And that her uncle is my little brother. And how we go up to New York and up more to Maine, and Meme and Papa are down in Florida right now and coming up to North Carolina when they come for her birthday.

And then ... then I could never have imagined that as her fourth birthday came to a close my daughter would break my heart just a little bit.

Let me back up a moment. She said goodnight to my mom and told her she wanted to go back to her bed so my dad could have somewhere to sleep. She wanted me. Then when I tried to lay down with her she reminded me that "I can go to sleep by myself because I'm four."

OK. I could handle that. "Okay," I told her. "Do you want mommy to tuck you in?" As I sat down beside her she turned towards the wall. She was crying. "Honey? Are you okay? Why are you crying?"

"I don't know."

"Do you want mommy to stay with you?" Nods and more tears. "Okay, baby, mommy will stay with you." More crying. Sobbing. "What's wrong, honey? Are you sad?" Nodding. Sobbing. "Why are you sad?"

"I don't know."

"Okay, honey. It's okay." Hugging. Sobbing. Hugging again.

"I'm sad because I don't have a card."

Then the whole world shifted.

I know I'm supposed to stop here. I know I'm supposed to use this as my ending. But I can't. I need to explain HOW she broke my heart tonight. On the night of her fourth birthday. As the beautiful day came to a close.

She cried because my husband and I did not give her her birthday card today. On her special day. We got a cake for her. We sang to her. We gave her some little presents (it was late, but her big present will be hers tomorrow) and then it was time for bed.

And out of nowhere she recognized that she got a card in the mail from her Meme and Papa. And Nana and Zeide gave her a card this morning. And Mommy and Daddy, well, we ... we did not.

And that, in that moment? Tore out my heart, shattered it and broke it to pieces.

Amazing, isn't it? She's only four. I barely remembered myself that we hadn't given it to her, but she knew. She realized. So I ran downstairs, left her sobbing in her bed and filled out her card. So rushed I left off one of the cats' names. I got her a pen and she wrote Angel on there for me. And then decided that I 'forgot to write that I forgot to give her the card,' so she wrote it. Herself. Sort of. And lastly, she said that I forgot to write that she is four. So I told her we'll do that tomorrow.

And she fell asleep, holding my hand, with the card in her other hand, laying close to her chest. I should have taken a picture, but I didn't want to disturb her slumber. And besides, it'll be in my heart and mind forever.

This post was written in conjunction with The Red Dress Club's prompt this week. This week's prompt asked you to begin your piece with the words, "I could never have imagined" and end it with "Then the whole world shifted." I was supposed to stay under 600 words, and I *almost* did ... ehem ... if you only look at the wording in-between the required lines.

Wordless Wednesday in one word

PUCK ...

Photo found on Photobucket

You Know You're a Mom When ...

** You make pepperoni pizzas from 100 calorie flatbread, shredded mozzarella cheese, a spoonful of marinara sauce and a snack size bag of mini-pepperonis!

** You try to start knitting for oh, about five minutes, and have to stop as your almost four-year-old decides she wants to knit, too, and proceeds to unroll your yarn. The yarn you haven't touched in over a year. Yeah, that stuff.

** You sit through 2-3 episodes of Sponge Bob just to avoid a meltdown. And possibly cause your own meltdown. Yeah, that's me.

** You decide you need to invest in Band Aids, as they've cornered the market with Hello Kitty, Dora and Toy Story. And your child needs at least one of them every other day for some small and insignificant injury.

** When that phone rings at 5PM and your husband tells you he's working til 10PM you're about ready to tear your own hair out.

** You've been ordered to turn around in your chair and when you look up the pint-sized dictator is hurling herself across the room into your arms, pepperoni greased hands and all.

** You have to avoid the aforementioned grease when it comes to kisses, because MAN, you do NOT eat pepperoni. Gross.

** You're ready for bed at about 6PM. Your child, however, is so NOT.

** Boogie Wipes are your friends.

** You wish that wine in a sippy cup was approved by your local children services program. For YOU, of course. Geez, people, get your mind back on track here.

** You love your child more than words can describe. So much so that you're going to let her live til her fourth birthday. Which is this Thursday. After that -- well -- we shall see.

It's February ...

It's late and I'm fried. My daughter's been asleep since around ten. She woke up at 6:30. I think I was half awake for the first few hours. I don't really remember. My husband went upstairs an hour or so ago. I'm exhausted. I'm too tired to walk up the stairs to get to my warm and cozy bed. Also, I know I have laundry to move from the washer to the dryer.

Yeah, it's midnight. I know.

Sigh ...

Hopefully there are no tiny eyes around as you read this post, but if there are you should be alright. Just don't click any links until they leave, okay?

Since we're all friends here I'm going to cut to the chase. EdenFantasys. Have you heard of them? I've looked at their site a few times. Clicked here and there. And they seem like a high class shop. From what I've read, they're also really discreet. We like discreet, right?

I know what you're thinking. Sounds perfect.

So I took a look at their interesting product line. And since I don't want to scare anyone away with embarrassment I've gone through their web catalog and wanted to give you a glimpse or two that are not intimidating.

They have really nice lingerie! They even have selections in larger sizes. And pretty affordable, as well. It's nice to see that we don't have to break the bank to get our sexy on.

Or for a little light-hearted fun, you can imagine serving THIS for dinner or bringing it to your next potluck? I may have to get some and make a casserole with them, just for the fun of it. Or the shock value. Take your pick ...

And for some less risque type products, you can find candles, mood music and massage oils in their sensual love section.

So take a look, see what you come across that you're interested in. I'm sure there are coupon codes abound these days, especially with the 14th rapidly approaching. I would bet my last paycheck (so what if it was years ago? It was decent money!) your other half would be quite surprised if you treated him or her to something new. When all the pressures of making Valentine's Day into something wonderful, memorable and then some. I mean - come on - does your holiday really have that much excitement to it? No? Then check out this website. Again. Seriously. Find yourself something fun!

Sigh ... then again, maybe just some nice candles for a quiet bath. That sounds beautiful. And relaxing. And so peaceful. And relaxing. Did I mention they have aromatherapy candles? Seriously. I need to get my hands on a few of those ...

**At the time of this post I have not been compensated in any way, but I have been informed by EdenFantasys that I could receive a Love Card (giftcard) from them for posting about their site. Having done so, I will hopefully be able to purchase some of those candles ... or something. And if you're interested in an opportunity to win a love card for their website, keep yer eye on me, as I hope to be giving one away sometime soon. **

Laugh and Cry ...

What am I doing here? Why does she keep looking at me that way? Do I have something on my face? Egg? Literally? I have to get up there soon. I really hope there's nothing in my teeth.

"Janie?"

"Yeah?"

"You're up in five."

"OK, thanks." I pull out the pocket mirror from my bag. Nope, nothing on my face and my teeth are clear. Whew. That's a relief. She's still looking at me. Damn. What is wrong with her, anyway? I should say something. I should ask her. What the hell is your problem? What's up with you, anyway? Why do you keep looking at me that way? But I'm not brave enough. I'm too nervous about what I'm about to do.

I swear I see her move. Did she just move? I'm not really sure. Who is she, anyway? What's she doing back here? Is she trying to freak me out? Bah, whatever. I'll be fine, right?

I hear my mother's voice. You're amazing, she whispered. You're incredible, powerful and strong. You can do anything you set out to do. I love you.

I wipe the tears from my eyes before they pool onto my shirt.

Great. My nose is running now. I'm always blotchy after I cry. I'm sure there's no hiding this. Fan-friggin-tastic. I use my inner sleeve to clear the snot away. I'm such a mom.

I'm a mom. Yes. That's right. Me. A mom. That's who I am. So what do I think I'm doing here, anyway? I'm just a mom, right? Branching out like this, it's ridiculous. I must be losing my mind.

Motherhood. Important. The essence of who I am. Who I have become. But nothing else? Impossible.

I imagine what my children would think, seeing me up there. I need to be like my daughter. Afraid of nothing. She's not even four, but thinks the world is her stage. It should be, right? It IS her stage. And this is mine.

The last thing she said to me this morning, before I left the house. "Mommy?"

"Yes?"

"Why did the chicken cross the road?"

A smile. A laugh. A great pause. "Why?" I ask.

"To get to the other side!"

"Oh!!!" I shout. Hilarious. Adorable. This is the tenth time I've heard this joke since yesterday. Ten? Eleven? Twelve? I've lost count. She loves it. It's her favorite. Brave. Fearless. Afraid of nothing. Not rejection. Not reaction. Nothing. This is how I must be moving forward.

I start off with my right foot. Walking towards the stage. Someone told me once that would be lucky. Always step with your right foot first? Or was it the left? Aw, shit. Who knows? I'm walking now, either way.

I step foot onto the stage. Wow. It's crazy packed out there. Really packed. What the hell was I thinking? Thinking I could do this? Seriously? I have to be kidding myself. I wonder if anyone can get me a glass of wine? Maybe I'll ask. Maybe I'll ask the entire crowd. Yeah, an ice breaker. That could work, right?

Mom, I whisper softly, Mom, I know you're out there. Please pray for me.

I hear my name. Softly. My mother's voice. I turn around, but she's gone.

This post is a fictional story that has been written in conjunction with this week's writing prompt over at The Red Dress Club. Critiques are welcome.

Reading With Redneck: 2010 in Review

I drafted this post last month (wow! I wrote it on 1/8/11!) and never got around to hitting publish. I'm in a reading and book focused mind-set, so I figured today would be as good a time as any. Hope you enjoy!

=====

I read this meme on my friend Lisa's blog here and decided it'd be a fun way to recap my year of reading. I read 59 books (though I think it was 61, depends on when you consider the starting point ...) and you can see my complete list right here!

Using only titles of books that you read this past year (2010), complete the prompts below. Try not to repeat any book titles.

Describe yourself:
Handle With Care, Jodi Picoult

How do you feel:
Til We Eat Again, Confessions of a Diet Dropout, Judy Gruen

Describe where you currently live:
Our Promised Land, Michael T. Darkow

If you could go anywhere, where would you go:
The Girl Who Chased the Moon, Sarah Addison Allen

Your favorite form of transportation:
The Twisted Path Home, Fae Bidgoli

Your best friend is:
Best Friends Forever, Jennifer Weiner

You and your friends are:
Girl Time, Laura Jensen Walker

What's the weather like:
My Summer of Southern Discomfort, Stephanie Gayle

Favorite time of day:
This Little Mommy Stayed Home, Samantha Wilde

What is life to you:
No Dress Rehearsal, by Marian Keyes

Your Fear:
Inconsolable: How I Threw My Mental Health Out With the Diapers, Marrit Ingman

What is the best advice you have to give:
You Can't Drink All Day If You Don't Start In The Morning, Celia Rivenbark

Thought for the day:
Skinny is Overrated, Dr. Danielle Milano

How I would like to die:
Driving Sideways, Jess Riley

My soul's present condition:
Not Tonight Honey, Wait Til I'm a Size Six, Susan Reinhardt

The Girl in the Green Raincoat ~ Book Review

I had an opportunity to receive a copy of The Girl in the Green Raincoat, by Laura Lippman for review, and it sounded (and yes, I'll admit - looked - so sue me, I judged a book by it's cover, like many a person before me!) like a really cute story. I'm always up for a different style of reading, and could use a little mystery now and then, so I figured - why not?

I had never heard of either the author, or Tess Monaghan, the primary character of the novel prior to receiving the information about the book being available for review. At the time I met Tess, she was on a form of bedrest, only she was in bed on her porch, not her bedroom.

Staying as motionless as possible, Tess found herself caught up in the day-to-day of the world outside her window. She became particularly attached to the dog walkers - most especially the girl in the green raincoat.

Geared with binoculars, Tess enjoyed her daily observances, until one day the small dog ran by without his owner at the other end of his leash. This set Tess off on an intense adventure in which she attempted to prove that something had happened to the girl. From the spot on her porch we live through the whole story.

The mystery unravels, and I truly enjoyed the read. It's quite a short book, which makes more sense now that I know there are so many other *stories* about Tess out there. I think it holds pretty well on its own, but at the same time it does leave me wanting more. Which is probably what Ms. Lippman had hoped for and achieved with this and her previous works, because they're obviously still being written and published!

So check it out. It's a quick and easy read, perfect for those days when you have five minutes here and five minutes there, or when you - GASP - have a solid hour to yourself without distractions. You could probably finish it right then and there!


** I was not compensated for this review in any way, but I received a copy of this book to review from TLC Book Tours. All of the opinions expressed are completely my own. **