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What a perfect way to fill you in on my current reads. It's as if Mel[issa - but I totally never call her that] read my mind when she asked us to Capture the Everyday today and share what book we're reading now.
I used to be a one-book woman. I could never imagine having more than one bookmark actively saving my place at a time. I tore through my reads viciously. On the bus, the train, my lunch hour. And then I relocated to North Carolina, and read and read and read. And then, then ... let me introduce you to my little time suck ... oh, wait, you know her already. She's four years old, about yay high. Yeah, that's the one.
And I realized I would never be able to read a book from start to finish in one sitting again. So I have books everywhere. In my bedroom. My bathroom (what? That's not TMI, don't tell me you don't do it, too. It's the only place a mom gets any peace, IF then!). Upstairs. Downstairs. I read whenever I can steal a few minutes.
So today you'll get a glimpse of what I am currently reading. I started the yummy-looking title with a cake on the cover night before last and am actually tearing through it. It's so good. Look for a review sometime soon. And I'm reading the Amy Tan one to actually write a review, and I really like it, but this cake one is for my April book club, and I've been so wrapped up in reviewing books I've slacked on book club choices. But this was my suggestion, and I plan on attending book club, so, well, so there!
The other two I've started and am making my way through. It'll take some time, but I'll get there. And if you want to know more about me and my relationship with books you can either check out my Goodreads shelf on the side of my blog, over there somewhere -------------------->
Or you can check my Reading with Redneck tab at the top of this page. It's got reviews I've done and lists of books and all that fun stuff. I'm a book addict, I admit it. If there was a book readers anonymous I'd go and I'd talk about it with pride.
So, if you want to link up with Mel today, go on, do it! You may even find some great books to read. Happy reading! Or good luck trying to.
"It's her, it has to be," I said to anyone who would listen.
To my mother, "Ma, do you remember her?" My mother laughed.
"Of course I do. She was your best friend for an entire year of your life."
"Do you think it could be her?"
"I don't see why not."
To my brother, "I think I just found my friend from kindergarten." He shrugged. What did he care? Still in grade school himself. His friends were his friends from kindergarten.
I looked at the picture again. All these other kids were flashes in my memory. Possibly created my imagination. But not her. She was different. I remembered her.
I had to find out if I was right.
The next morning i stood in the gym for homeroom. She sat on the bleachers with some of her friends.
Things were so different now, being in a new school. Our class was made up of three schools worth of seventh graders. Maybe more. They gym was packed. I pulled the photo from my bag. From a folder deep inside.
Took a few deep breaths and walked over to the bleachers.
"Hi."
"Hi."
"Is this you?" I asked, shoving the picture in front of her. She studied it. Nodded. "I knew it. I knew it was you." We exchanged smiles. "Because that's me," I motioned, moved my hand to the opposite side of the montage of portrait shots.
She made room for me to sit with her. "Wow, that's you?" We laughed. We'd come a long way from pigtails.
She started looking at the rest of the kids. Pointed to a girl on the hardwood floor, and back to the photograph. "That's her." She introduced me to a few people. This continued for a while. Before long I had met about half my kindergarten class.
The bell rang. Our homeroom/gym teacher started yelling. We gathered our things and climbed carefully down. Still surprised. Still unsure. We walked to our next class together, somewhat awkward, and yet connected somehow.
And that's how I found my kindergarten buddy again.
** This week's memoir prompt for The Red Dress Club was to write about Kindergarten. I took a different spin on it and wrote about what Kindergarten brought into my life. My best friend who I have known since 7th grade (and K, before that) and is one of the most important people in my life. If you'd like to read a little bit more about her, check out this post about Best Friends! I hope you enjoyed. Constrictive criticism is always welcomed.**
I'm guest posting today.
Hopefully by the time you read this it won't be yesterday, but still ...
I'm over at The Scoop on Poop! Which is right here:
You're going to want to check out the recent guest posters on her blog, but you're most especially going to want to check out The Drama Mama and her posts because they're loads of fun and she's adorable. I think we were meant to be friends. Though she doesn't know it yet, so you may not want to tell her I said that, for fear that I'll totally scare her off. Like, for good, or somethin'. And that'd be bad. Seriously.
Anyway, here's my post: That Girl
Leave me some love over there, and special thanks to Stephanie for inviting me over to play!
Major bummer that my plans for a Nutella Party playdate a week or so ago fell apart since almost everyone that was supposed to come was sick. The flu, the weather, teething and a crazy long drive kept people away from my house full of Nutella goodies.
I truly wanted to throw a fun party for the mamas that participate in my local mom site, and are in the PPD support forum with me. I was totally ready, as Mommy Parties completely stocked me up. BIG time. Nutella is a little dose of heaven, and so I thought if anyone deserved it these ladies did.
But, alas, it was not meant to be. So instead I am handing out goodies to my friends and waiting to celebrate at another date. I know this kind of breaks the Mommy Parties rule, but I am still talking about my party - even though it fell flat.
I am SO in love with Nutella I could cry. Seriously. And can you imagine that they sent me a huge jar, like a jumbo sized one, which you can probably get at BJs or somewhere like that - AND - ready for this? I have not yet eaten the entire jar. Yay for me!
It's so huge, it's almost ominous. I would feel awful if I ate it all by myself, so I just treat myself to a little bit now and then. Yum. Pure heaven.
If you have not ever tried Nutella you really must. They sent me some teeny-tiny samples that are so cute, and some coupons for me to pass on to my friends. Along with a travel mug, and a special Nutella spreading knife. Safe enough for your kids to use. But who am I kidding? As if you'd really share your Nutella with your kids! HA!
I'm a little bit lazy right now, but maybe I'll even do a giveaway and surprise someone who comments on this post with a Nutella prize pack. What do you think? (It may take me 100 years to get to the post office, but if you're okay with waiting, I'm okay with picking you!)
Anyway - I decided that since a bunch of people weren't coming and bringing their yummy waffles and graham crackers that I would make my own attempt at incorporating Nutella into something breakfasty. And so I began.
I started with a box of Pillsbury Pumpkin bread mix. (Another dose of heaven right there!) And made my batter as per the directions on the back of the box (they give you muffin instructions, which is how I almost always make mine). And then I separated the batter, just about halved it. Well, that's kind of a lie, as what I really did was make a batch of a dozen muffins BEFORE adding the Nutella to the mix. And then I took the rest of the batter and added a whole bunch of swirls of Nutella in there. It looked really realllllly good.
And when they were baking they smelled delicious. Only I am sad to say that when I tasted them they were not Nutella-y enough for me. Maybe I needed more. Maybe I just am so used to tasting it straight off the spoon? **Guilty!** Maybe maybe maybe. Either way, I am definitely going to give Nutella a try with other baking recipes down the line. We'll see how they turn out.
Some of my favorite ways to eat Nutella:
- Off the spoon. Yes. I'm serious.
- In a tortilla. Preferably flour. Sometimes warmed up in the microwave.
- In S'mores. Graham crackers, marshmallows and a scoop of Nutella, pop in the microwave and melt. Have I mentioned the word heaven yet?
- On frozen waffles. Perfection. Especially when they're slightly warm. It melts a bit. Oozes a bit. And it's perfect. Yum.
Anyway, if I haven't sold you yet you'll want a reason to try it, I'm sure. And the Nutella website has a giveaway where they will send their winner a CASE of this incredible treat. Check it out here for more details.
And in case you couldn't tell by now ...
**I was not compensated in any way for this post. All opinions in this review of the product are entirely my own. I <3 Nutella and thank Mommy Parties for providing me with the materials to host a fun Nutella Party ... even if mine did kind of fall flat!**
I stood at the bottom step. He was whistling in the kitchen. He looked straight at me, saw me watching him.
"Mornin', Sunshine." We both flinched. It was so natural for him to say, the way it rolled right off his tongue as if he had never stopped.
His tongue ... I sighed, closing my eyes for a second. It had been so long. I cleared my head. Shivered. Pulled my robe closer.
I looked out the kitchen window. Still blanketed in white. Still blinding. Great. I let out an easy whistle.
"Still pretty rough out there." He paused. "Did you sleep okay?"
I nodded.
"Feeling alright this morning?"
Another nod.
"Good."
This time nothing.
"Cats got your tongue?" I noticed the fur-balls, curled up on my sofa. I laughed. Softly. Throatily. My early morning voice finding its way.
"They sleep with you last night?" I asked. His turn to nod. I watched as he scrambled eggs. My stomach churned. "Traitors," I whispered, walking over to them. One stretched, the other curled deeper into himself. "Fantastic." I heard him laugh. Turned to catch him watching me. Smiling.
He motioned to the coffee pot.
"Seriously? You still don't know how to make a cup of coffee?" I stopped. Assumed too much, with no hesitation.
"That's what Mary is for," he answered.
Mary?
A beat.
"Who?"
"Down at the coffee shop. You haven't met her?"
"No."
"She's great. Sweetest little thing..."
I didn't want to hear about a sweet little thing named Mary.
"I'm pretty good at making my own coffee these days," I said as I walked over to the pot. I counted. "Three, four, five ... "
****
"Six doughnuts, please."
"Someone's pretty hungry." I gave him a polite smile. "Got one over there for me?" This guy was pretty ballsy. Acting as if he owned the place.
"Hold on, Matty. Lovely lady was here first." I smiled again. Satisfied.
"I was talking to her, actually." He looked at me. Extended his hand. "Matt." I didn't move. "Got an extra one I can take off your hands?" I don't know what happened. What made me do it. Every inch of my body was saying no. Saying walk away. And yet.
"Sure. Get my coffee and I can spare a doughnut for you." Was that just my voice? Did I really just say that? His eyes sparkled. Twinkled, even. Damn. Not smart. Joe shared a hearty laugh from behind the counter.
"Watch out, sweetheart. This one's a toughie."
"Like your day old muffins, Joe?" Matt ducked as a dishrag flew past his head.
I sat down. What the hell am I doing? What am I DOing?
He sat down across the table. Placed my coffee in front of me. "So, do you have a name?" I smiled. I couldn't help myself. Took a deep breath.
****
Seven, eight ... how many scoops was that? Damn. I totally lost track.
"Hey," he was waving his hand in my face. "Doughnuts okay?"
"Huh?"
I really have to stop playing with these memories.
"Doughnuts," he repeated. "You up for some?"
"Sure."
He smiled, as if remembering something himself. "I also made some eggs." I shook my head. "No?"
"Not in the mood. Where'd the doughnuts come from?"
"I'm making them out of canned biscuit dough." I laughed. "I know, I know. Wonders never cease."
"No, Matty. You never cease. To amaze me. What else have you learned over these past months?" I stood against the counter, steam rising behind me. Biscuit dough sizzling on the stove.
He walked over, pushed my hair behind my ear.
"Has it been that long?" I felt my breath slowing. My arms, legs, weakening under his gentle touch.
"Yeah," I whispered.
"Three?"
"Almost."
"Where does the time go?" I shrugged.
He was so close I could smell him. Over the eggs. The doughnuts. The coffee. My stomach churned. I swallowed heavily and found myself blinking back tears. This post is linked up to the Red Dress Club this week for their "doughnut prompt" ... it is a part of a work in progress, and if you'd like to review the previous parts of their story please feel free to click on the story label at the bottom of this post, or click here for more history. As always, constructive criticism is welcomed. 
Is it wrong that every now and then I walk away from my child?
I mean, shouldn't she, at the ripe old age of four, be able to play on her own without needing me to come to her call every waking second?
And when I do come back. After stepping away - is it wrong that I am immediately exhausted at the fact that she has nearly used up 75 craft sticks and simply stuck random drops of glue on them? I mean, I walked away, and she was working on a pretty craft. But stupid me, I left the rest of the bag there - too close to her small hands. Too close to pass up.
And so when I return to the table and find the glue there, am I wrong to want to beat myself up. Kick myself. Make a fist and bite it for lack of another way to hold back the frustration from her, and keep it directed at the stupidity that is me?
The mother. Mommy. The one who should know better but never seems to?
I know she's four. I know she's creative. And I know that kids make messes. But you'd think by now I'd learn that messes come when I leave things out for her to reach for. Leave things too close to those little fingers. As beautiful as they are. And all I start wishing is that I had left the TV on for a little bit longer and skipped the mess that is now my kitchen table.
I kept the paint hidden because it's a disaster waiting to happen. It's dry. Goopy. Needs to be thrown out and to be honest I just was not in the mood for that kind of mess today. And instead I chose glue.
How stupid can a person be, right? I mean, how stupid can I be?
Am I allowed to kick myself? Am I allowed to feel exhausted and recognize that I am feeling so after only having been home with her one day after an emotionally long weekend?
I love my daughter with all that I am and all that I have. But sometimes I just feel like walking away, finding some breathing time, and tuning out for a short while. And when I do I just wish that I re-focus and return to a child playing quietly and nicely, and without a disaster waiting for me.
Is that so wrong?
She is gone two years today.
They never told us she was sick. My father, her own brother, only knew a week before.
He lost so much time. We lost so much time.
Can I say for certain I would have flown home to see her, just once, before she left? Not truly. Not necessarily, but I would have loved the chance to try.
How is it that family pulls together at times of hurt, and pulls apart over the years? In such a way - such a way that we know of nothing else. No other way to function.
This person. My father's sister. We lost four years together over our lives. All because of stupidity (it's easy for me to say it was hers, he is MY father, after all). My grandmother was sick and she never came. She took my cousins away from us. For so long. Too long.
I can still remember the day, so many years ago, we saw them again for the first time. At sixteen years old I knew how relevant it was. How incredibly important that they were there. We were a family again.
Friends may come and go from our lives, but families, families are supposed to be forever - right? Mine was. Mine is. Mine should be.
We lost my grandmother. By then we had reconnected. She, her children, a part of our lives again.
My cousin lost her husband. A loss felt to the core. We wouldn't have been anywhere else.
Then she got sick. Years later. So much time gone by. A different version of the beast. She beat it. My father, my mother. Stood strong. Stayed by her. Sat at the hospital with her children as she made her way through. And she did.
My mom got sick. Again, the beast. She supported. She loved. She made my mother laugh with her crazy ways.
Somewhere along the way one of my cousins got married. On one of the holiest days of the year. We missed it. We shut doors. We lost what we had gotten back. We - I - have yet to forgive.
And then we lost my aunt. Taken away too young. Too soon. And too quickly. I try to forgive them for withholding this hurt. For keeping my father away from her as long as they did. But it's not easy. It's not easy to just let it go.
As today I know when he looks at the calendar he feels the sting. He knows she is gone. He knows how much time he lost out on. How is that fair? It's not - truly. But we forgive. We move on. We let go. We know that there is so little time, that to hold a grudge, even one we find to be worthy, is not worth it after all.
For time flies by. So quickly. We lose what we have in an instant. And then we're left with so little. The pain. The memories. The hurt. If we don't let that go where does that leave us?
I miss you, Tanta. I forgive you for leaving us. Perhaps that is not fair, not even something I am permitted to say. And yet - I do. Because I have to find a way to let go. Be at peace with my loss. And love her, still.
Coffee? Tea? What's your pleasure?
I suppose that is the whole point of this post, right?
To help you figure out what your pleasure actually IS. Well, I won't be figuring it out for you. I'll just be directing you somewhere you can find out about some fun ways to try to find out.
No giveaway this week, but wow, I definitely had some high traffic a few weeks back when I posted one. Pretty crazy stuff! I hope all of my new friends will come by and say hi this time, even without the freebie.
I'll provide a touch of info for you about EdenFantasys and you'll see for yourself what exactly catches your eye.
So - even if you've never been to a store like EdenFantasys, or shopped a website or catalog, I'm guessing you've always been just a little bit intrigued. Or, if you're like me, back in my NYC days, you did a lot of window shopping.
A small taste of some of their inventory that is less than risque would start here, with their Chocolate Body Paint. According to site reviewers, this body paint actually does taste like chocolate, and is a fun way to lighten the mood. It is labeled as being pretty sticky, so I guess it's up to you whether or not you're interested in dealing with that messy aspect or not.
A second look at their yummy inventory would bring you to the Kama Sutra Chocolate Body Paint. Review of the chocolate flavor of this body paint suggests that it's a perfect method to bring an aphrodisiac like chocolate into the bedroom.
So if you're looking for a tiny taste of adventure to spice up your love life, why not check out EdenFantasys and see for yourself what they might have that piques your interest? They're sweet, discreet and the perfect first step to that adventurous side.
Happy Shopping!
So many mornings I open my eyes and I don't feel like getting out of bed.
So many moments I say to myself ... Seriously? Could this child have any more energy?
So many nights I think to myself, I wish I could stay in bed for a week.
Maybe more.
I've known heartache.
I've known loss.
I've known love.
I know what it's like to be so overwhelmed with anxiety that you don't feel like seeing anyone. Where talking or listening is just too much.
The sound of someone's voice is just too harsh for your ears. Your eyes, even.
I know that feeling.
I know pain. I've lived through it.
I felt the pain of labor and gave birth to a healthy baby girl.
I've felt the pain of loss and moved on, lived my life. Lost grandparents. One before I even came to be. I've talked about feeling the loss of someone you've never even met. The loss of someone who knew of you but never knew you.
The loss of that last living grandparent.
The loss of someone the same age as you. A mere two weeks apart. The heartbreak. The pain. The devastation.
I've spoken of losses that were unexpected. Kept hidden.
And today, I open my eyes and know again that someone I loved is gone.
Not quite unexpected, but certainly faster than understood. More painful, perhaps. Maybe less?
One of my mom's best friends, my extra "ma" who would call me Daughter. I was her only. She had three boys.
Can you find another mother so late in your life? In your twenties? Is that even possible?
It is. And I did.
Remembering that the first time I met her, face-to-face was at my grandmother's funeral. Of all the stupid memories. She was sweet. She was quiet. She was loud. Too loud sometimes. She hid away in the corner of the house when everyone was in the other room. She made ridiculous faces, purposeful expressions to make you laugh. And laugh we did. She did.
She even looks a little bit like my mom. Short with short dark hair. They could pass for sisters, and likely often did. She may as well have been.
Today I opened my eyes knowing she had left us. Knowing she was no longer feeling any pain. And knowing she was with her own mother again. And I cried. Because I am sad. I am sad to lose her. To know I'll never see her again.
All I truly prayed for after speaking to my mom for an hour yesterday afternoon was that she would get to say goodbye. I'm forever grateful to our friend's sons for calling her and telling her to come. Now. She held her, touched her, spoke to her. Got to say her own kind of goodbye.
Now that she is gone it is my mom I worry about. I remember her own battle with the beast. The battle she won. And I wonder how hard it must be to watch her friend lose her battle. That same beast. And the blessing that is life continues for us. And so we honor our friend by living it.
So we open our eyes and get out of bed.
I say, 'Okay!' to my daughter when she wants to play hockey with me at 9 o'clock in the morning. Indoors.
I think to myself, I'll get a good night's sleep somehow and wake up refreshed tomorrow.
I'll continue to experience heartache.
Loss.
And love.
And I'll never forget her.
On Sunday we went to the pool. It was the first time we'd been in weeks. More than a month, in fact. Ailments, illnesses, family visiting. All these things kept us away.
Swimming is a beautiful time for my family. It's the one hour a week that the three of us spend time together with no distractions. I can't even begin to explain how important it is to have the phone tucked away, the iPad home and hiding, no laptops, no television, no connection to anyone in the outside world.
Can you tell that I love it?
We have a pattern going now. The three of us swim together, a good half hour or more. Usually more. I get a few minutes in the hot tub if I want to. Or I can swim a few laps solo, while my husband plays with my daughter for a bit. When done I go get my stuff and head to change. Sometimes a shower fits in, sometimes not, but I get a few minutes to myself to decompress.
On Sunday I walked along, ready to go. I looked at myself in the mirror of the locker room. My thighs, their dimples. It wasn't pretty. Dimples belong on faces, don't they?
I looked at my face. Thirty-eight years behind these eyes. I've aged. I've grown. I've got some wise ways. Seen a lot. I'm still a kid in so many ways. But wait. I have one of my own.
I continued dressing and made my way back to the pool to get my daughter.
Her two-piece tank suit so much smaller than my own. Her body so lean, so taut. She was happy. Thrilled. In her naked glory as I helped her dry off and change into her clothes.
"Don't run out behind the curtain!" She asked me why. Why, I thought. Why? "So everyone out there won't see your booty!" I laughed. She did, too. Unblemished skin and all. She shook her booty at me.
We finished getting her dressed and went to sit down at the mirror to dry her hair. My own hair needed it, as well. She could barely stand still. She would barely stand still.
"Honey, please. Please let mommy dry your hair."
She stopped. Walked over. Stood still. When I finished she decided.
"Mommy. I want crazy hair just like yours." I laughed.
"You do?" She nodded.
Crazy hair is when I pull my hair up into a bun and it just sort of flops everywhere.
"Are you sure?" She nodded again. "Sit down, OK? Mommy will finish your hair."
She sat in front of me, sneaking peeks in the mirror beside us to check that I was actually doing it. A little tiny and crazy messy bun atop her head. We walked out of there hand in hand. Or maybe it just felt like way. She was a few steps ahead, I'm sure. Running. Carefully. Her little bun bouncing as she went.
She wants to be like me.
There is so much more I need to be. But she? My daughter? She wants to be like me.
So a few months ago (My apologies as I'm so horribly late in reviewing!) I was approached to review some products from Shop123go.com.I received the following shift convertible tote in blue:
And I love it! It's very similar to some other grocery bags that I have and what I love most about it is how it folds up so compactly and can fit in my handbag whenever I am out and about and don't know if I might need a tote for an unexpected shopping trip.
My only "wish" for this bag was that it had a drawstring or something that would guarantee that it wouldn't open up or unfold in any way. Otherwise the size, the material, all of it was perfect.
The second item I received for review is the Crossover Tote Backpack.
This bag is really cute, and in theory should be an excellent idea. I like being able to turn the bag into a backpack, but I had a few issues with the whole experience. First and foremost, because of the way the straps work, the tote handles are kind of difficult to maneuver when you keep it in "tote" form. It's actually -- surprisingly -- much better functioning as a backpack. I think for some basic day-to-day use it could be a great bag.
But the one issue I had with it in this style is that there is no way to close the bag. Maybe it's my NYC paranoia resurfacing, but I know if I ever walked around with this bag in front of my mom she'd be right behind me making sure nobody grabbed anything out of it.
I fully intend to give it a few more test runs this spring and summer, when the weather is nice enough and I can take it to the pool and stuff some towels and extras in there without any concerns of anything falling out.
It's also a perfect place to put all your reusable grocery shopping bags, convertible totes or other kinds. I have found that when I hit the store for a big trip it's a space saver to not have to shove these in the cart before checking out, I can just stick them in the bag and pop it on my back, with my hands free to do my shopping and couponing!
Overall, the site itself has some really cute bags. I definitely plan to make my way over there as the season changes and I hope to get myself something adorable like this shopping tote for the spring or this cute beach bag for the summer. I hope you'll head on over and check them out.
Happy shopping!
I waited, sitting still for the few minutes that she was inside. I expected to wait longer, but she came out fairly quickly.
"You're done?" She smiled. Nodded. Tears filled her eyes, brimming at the surface. "That was quick! That's amazing. I can't believe how fast it was." More nods. I hugged her. "It's okay," I whispered.
"I know," she whispered back.
I held onto her, gently. She was fragile, yet strong. Stronger than I'd ever seen her. "You're amazing," I told her. She laughed softly.
"What'd you think of my mask?" she asked me, as we walked to the door. My turn to smile, a slight laugh.
"It's you, alright ..."
"I asked them if I could keep it when I'm done."
"What'd they say?" She shrugged. "Ah, you don't really need that. When you're done you'll be DONE. No mask to remind you. You'll know."
"I'll always know." She lifted her hand up to her neck. Touched it gently.
"Does it hurt?" She shook her head. "You sure?"
"Not so much. It's easier now." We sighed together. "They gave me lotion." I nodded. She looked so tired.
"Let's go home," I instructed. Silently we walked through the doors into the beautiful sunshine.
Cancer is a beast. But my mom? My mom is absolutely beautiful.
This post is in response to this week's prompt over at The Red Dress Club.
I truly loved this book.
Is it too soon to say that to you guys? I hope not. I hope you keep reading to see why.
Ann and her granddaughter Ellie are taking a trip down memory lane together, but Ann is worried about so many secrets. So many things she wants to protect Ellie from, and protect herself, of course.
Along with Ann's fear of sharing too many sad memories, and revealing too much, we also experience the onset of Alzheimer's in our main character. Which seems to give the memories even more of an air of mystery about them. How much does she truly remember? How much is she hiding on purpose? Or is her mind truly losing track of the days of her past?
The diaries of Ann that we get a glimpse into were written forty years apart. We experience life with her as a new mother, the struggles, the emotions, the heartache and the loss. We experience life with her as an active grandmother trying to teach her young granddaughter of what it is like to truly live in the moment!
When Ellie approaches Ann about a project for school, we sense the older woman's tension building. She prepares what she wants to allow Ellie to see, she hides the secrets deeper into the attic. We won't go there, we hear her think. She doesn't need to touch that, see that, know any of that.
But Ellie, being the precocious child that she is, helps Ann face memories of the past. Helps her see things more clearly and face them head on. Ellie's parents have their own issues, and we watch as Ann recognizes many of them as way too familiar. And yet we have no idea of the similarities and how far they'll go into the past.
There is so much more to say but I don't want to give anything else away. The pain she experienced as a new mom stung in such a way. I've known so many women to experience this frazzled and frustrated way of being, myself included. One point in her "old" diary she notes that she hasn't taken a shower in several days. The mystery of being that is a new mother. The survival - looking back, how so many of us feel it.
This book was emotional, heart-wrenching and heart-warming, all at once. And the author has been gracious enough to offer me an autographed copy for one of my readers, so if you're interested just let me know here, with a single comment saying that you are.
Winner will be chosen in a week and contacted via email, with 48 hours to reply. Good luck, everyone! I hope you win this incredible read!
** I was not compensated in any way for this review. I was given a copy from TLC book tours to faciliate my review and offered a copy of the book to give away to one of my readers, should I so choose. All opinions expressed are strictly my own.**
I sat up, jerked by the impending impact of the vehicle we were in and the one that was in front of us.
Somehow, before I knew it I was over my friend in the front passenger seat. Hovering. I was too late, but I was there anyway.
There were screams. Did they happen before or after we hit? No idea.
I looked down and had no idea how I got there. Up front. Over my friend. Arms a shield. Protecting - she teased me later on, in the days we could tease one another about this.
A contact lens disappeared. I found my glasses in the mess. Safe in their case. Somehow I tore the other contact out, threw it aside so I could see again.
I felt pain, but wasn't sure where it was coming from.
The driver? A mess. I could barely see her eyes. I reassured her. Small whispers between us. I think I held her hand for a moment.
People started crawling into the van from the back door. Two of us, the least affected, were helping them. Handing them bags? We crawled out, and someone carried our friends out of there. One was holding her face.
"My nose. I think I broke my nose."
"You're OK. It's going to be OK," I told her.
"A mirror. Can I have a mirror? I need to see."
"You don't need to see. There's nothing to see." I sat beside her. "It's okay. You're going to be okay."
"Ang, I need a mirror." I shook my head. I had no idea if her nose was broken, but she didn't need to see her face right now.
Cars passing by. People stopping. Suddenly seeing a car of our friends approach. The chills. The shivering. The fear. The look on their faces. Their eyes as they approached. Smiling at them. Reassuring? Something ...
Sirens blaring. Paramedics there, suddenly. Waving them down.
Directing them. Bringing them to friends with more hurt, more pain. Visible pain.
I can still see it today.
Paramedics moving quickly. Someone approaches. He is really cute. Damn, that hurts. He's still really cute. A few laughs. An ambulance ride. My first. It's interesting in there.
I get to the hospital and find out I actually need stitches. My ankle is cut so deep and bleeding pretty badly. I never saw it. I never knew.
I am not especially thrilled with this post. I like it, I feel that it shows a huge part of who I am, who I have always been, and at the same time it's giving you insight to an incident in my life that shaped some parts of me, as well, but at the same time I feel unsettled. Maybe it's the topic I chose? Maybe it's the way I flashed back? I feel as though it is missing something. Critiques and feedback are welcome. I only ask that you do so respectfully with this piece, as it is something I have never written about before for the public eye to see. Thank you.
I made this recipe from Aaron McCargo Jr over at the Food Network and it is a HUGE hit whenever I make it. Big Daddy won't steer you wrong!
Now I know football season is over, but Share a Spoon asked me for fried goodness this week, and it may be Sunday, but Sabroso Saturday, as always, was looking for some flavor. And a way to stretch the budget. This is pretty decent shot (not quite the healthiest way, but won't hurt once in a while ...)
It's a bit of a stretch for this lazy mom, but it's well worth it, I promise you.
Ingredients:
1 oven roasted chicken from the grocery store
1 /4 c hot sauce (more if you can stand it, me? I can't.)
1 c flour
2 c bread crumbs
2 c shredded cheddar cheese (more or less)
3 eggs
Step One:
Shred that chicken up as best you can. I'm not one for picking apart the meat from the bone, but if it saves me from having to cook it I can shred and pick with the best of them.
Step Two:
Get that chicken into a huge mixing bowl. Add the hot sauce, cheese (and if you follow Big Daddy's recipe you'll want to toss in the scallions/pepper here)
Step Three: (Now I sound like Oso, don't I?)
Now is when you go all "chicken cutlet" on these ingredients. You'll need three small bowls. One for the flour. One for the eggs -- no need to throw 'em all in at once, I did 2, then added a third when it was getting low. And the last one for the bread crumbs. The first time I made these babies I did not have panko bread crumbs, which is what the recipe calls for. I believe I used Italian seasoned ones, or plain, and they came out just as delicioso! Otherwise panko are fine. Either way? This is a messy thing to make.
Can you guess what's next?
Roll yourself a ball of the chicken-cheese-hot sauce mixture and be sure not to touch your eyes. Toss that baby gently into the flour, then dip it fully into the egg, and pick it up to roll around in the bowl of breadcrumbs.
Repeat. Repeat. Repeat.
Once you finish making a batch of them, you can pop them into your deep fryer (which I did not have the first time I made them, and I will admit it's MUCH easier that way) or a nice pan of sizzling oil.
Once they're done you can lay them out for display on a plate of paper towels, or towel paper, as I used to say growing up.
They're filling, they're reallllly good, and they actually work as an appetizer, for a potluck, a Superbowl party (think next year!) or whatever you're into these days. March Madness is starting up, right? Go, some team! We've eaten them for dinner here with a steamed veggie on the side to make up for the greasy goodness. Honestly, as "bad" as they are, two or three of them fill you up in a heartbeat, and you'll have plenty leftover, as well.
So, Mangia! And then enjoy!
And head on over to see my girls and check out who else has linked up with them and shared something divine with us. I'm personally dying to check out the Churro recipe, AND some Beignets in time for Mardi Gras!
I stood in the shower, staring at the wall in front of me. The stream dripping down from above. Drip drip drip.
Across the top of my head. My eyes. My entire face.
Masking the tears.
My hair, soaked. My ears, clouded over. I couldn't hear her anymore. If only for a moment.
I put my head into my hands and sobbed. Heavily. Loud cries. But nobody could hear ME, either. There wasn't anybody listening.
And that was perfect. Just the way I needed it. If only for a moment.
I leaned against the shower wall. Scrubbing at my skin. Tenderly across my scar. The scar, that for me, would forever identify me as a mother.
Motherhood is amazing, I thought. I should be happy. Overjoyed. Thrilled.
And I was. I truly was.
I laughed. Unheard sounds muffled by the water fall I'd created for myself in my own little space. If only for a moment.
I made my way out of the shower. Tucked myself into a towel. Wrapped myself up tight.
With the water turned off I could hear her wailing now. But it was okay. It was going to be okay.
I was refreshed. Re-birthed. Feeling better. Amazing what five minutes in the shower could do for an exhausted new mommy. I took deep breaths.
Opened my eyes. She lay in her pack-n-play, and I lay on the bed, beside her. Just out of reach.
Sigh.
Maybe I'll get to get a shower in when your Daddy gets home, I whispered, picking her up and holding her tightly. I should be able to sneak upstairs ... If only for a moment.
This post was written in response to this week's Red Dress Club prompt (fiction or non-fiction permitted): Water gives life. It also takes it away. My writing this week is a combination of fiction and non-fiction. It's mostly how I remember the early days of motherhood. The rare occasion a shower could refresh me and bring me a reminder of the importance of my life, a new feeling of what motherhood was like, and a break from the tears - hers and mine - that we both needed. I hope my choice of reflection expresses clearly where I was for many a moment, and then some. Thanks for reading. Critiques welcome.
So I took this picture a week ago when I first saw my friend Mel's post about what she wanted us to capture THIS week for her new meme Capture the Everyday. And yes, I have seen a few of the nightstands shown from other bloggers, and MAN, I want to run and hide.
But instead, instead I am boosting my colors and showing you all what sits beside my bed each night. Is it any wonder I can't fall asleep? I mean, really now ...
But here you have it. My nightstand!
Yes, there are snotty tissues on there. And a Toy Story tissue box. Sorry. We were running low and I had to grab the box from the playroom.
And yes, if you think I like to play with naked fairy dolls, and a semi-naked Ariel, you are absolutely correct! Or, maybe they were hiding under my blankets, and I had to shove them onto the nightstand for fear of waking up with a barbie-sized foot in my eye.
Speaking of eyes, there is my old Vera Bradley glasses case. I have hairbands in there, as it is so overused it won't stay closed on it's own anymore. Also, because when I wake up one of the first things I do is pull my hair into a ponytail/bun. And the last thing I do? Pull the ponytail holder out so I can actually fall asleep.
My comb. Ah, my comb tends to disappear on me, so the fact that it was there last week means little if I were to look for it now. The brush is so old and the child enjoys using it, for herself, her fairies, Ariel, me, you name it - it has a new found purpose.
My alarm clock is so old it probably has gray hairs. Or it would. If it had hair.
And yes, that is a house phone. GASP! I know. But we have to have one. I won't let hubby move us totally to cell phones. The service in our house sucks often enough that I know I need to have another way to reach the outside world. Although Vonage may tick me off one more time and then we'll see what tune I'm singing then, I suppose.
Don't mind the ginger ale can. I was feeling kind of crappy the night before. All this stuffy-nosed-ness can cause enough yuck that I need something to settle me. Fun times.
Books, of course. You didn't expect me to NOT have some, right? I'm currently reading a few (crazy, I know) and one of them is People are Unappealing, Even Me; Sara Barron. That's the one you can see the cover of. The other one is The Pocket Therapist; Therese Borchard. I read it last year and finished it again last week. Love it. Love her. You should, too.
Lastly, a small, crocheted pumpkin. Yes, I love October so much I hold onto it even in March (so last week was February, but believe me, the pumpkin is still there). Or you can blame it on my kid. That's what I do. ;)
So, I'm sharing some of my inner sanctum with you all. Hope you enjoyed. And stop over to Mel's place for some much neater and cleaner and more organized views from the bedroom.
Some days I have 957 things on my mind. Other days I'd say it's just one.
What that one thing is and can be certainly varies from day to day.
But I have to confess, I don't go to sleep easily at night. I often have a case of the racing mind. You, too? Well, you can join me, then, as I share what my mind raced through last night as I tried to catch some ZZZs. And what may be the funniest thing of all is that this was on a good night. I actually got in bed at around 10 or so, played on the iPad, hung out on Twitter, and then by 11:30-ish I hit the wall. And then I started racing.
Too bad my body doesn't race this well. I'd have less to worry about if it did.
OK, so stay with me ... last night as I tried to shut my eyes I thought ...
I'm just so tired. I seriously wish I would fall asleep faster. I know that the doctor gave me something to take if I really need it, but I have always heard iffy things about it so I'm kind of afraid. Plus, what if it knocks me out so badly that when hubby leaves for work in the AM I won't hear the child when she wakes up? I mean, I know that's probably unlikely but if I could just fall asleep I'd feel better, ya know?
And OMG, I checked my email before bed and I am officially volunteering at TypeAConference! I'm shocked, thrilled, and holy crap, I have no idea how I am going to get there, or where I am going to stay. I need a roommate. Do I even know anyone going? Wow. I'm going to feel like a total loner. Maybe I should turn down the offer? But no, I totally WANT to go, and I want to volunteer as I have heard the most amazing things about this event and it would be the coolest thing ever to be able to be a part of it. Crap. I'm still going to totally freak out. Anyone I know going -- I think there are some people locally. I have to start asking now. Whew. I can't breathe.
No, I really can't breathe. It's not just anxiety, I seriously am unable to breathe through my nose. I think I have to go see an ENT. I mean, really. I think it's time. Either that or finally get to an allergist regularly. Or maybe actually find an acupuncturist here in NC. I miss Julie. She was my acupuncture-girl in NYC. That was like 5+ years ago, so what the hell am I doing thinking of her now? I know she'd kick this crap and gunk out of my nose and sinuses big time. Damn, I wish I could zap myself there in an instant. Although I wonder if she is still practicing in NYC. Sigh. She's probably in NJ by now.
I really need to call my friend Dawn. I never called on Feb. 4th for her son's birthday, and I have been thinking of her since then. I also wonder if my friend in California had her baby. I haven't spoken to her since I found out she was 4 months pregnant and that was months ago. I keep having bad feelings about it so I left her a message the other night and didn't even say anything because what if something went wrong?
G-d, I am seriously so tired. I wish I could shut my brain the way I shut my eyes. I think I have to pee. I'm too tired to get out of bed again. Did I brush my teeth? How can I forget if I actually brushed my teeth tonight? Is that even possible?
I wonder when my husband is coming up to bed. I hope I'm asleep, or maybe not, because then my snoring will keep him awake. It's not like I do it on purpose, and believe me, it's so totally unfair that when we are up here together he can shut off the TV after Jon Stewart or Stephen Colbert and turn over, shut his eyes and be snoring in like 5 minutes, I mean, really, who DOES that? So I kind of DO want to be asleep before he comes up because if not I'll just have to listen to him snoring and that would keep me awake even longer. Not to mention that I'm slightly cranky with him right now. But whatever. Doesn't matter since I'm so friggin tired I really just need to close my eyes and go to sleep!
Or something ...
This participating post in Pour Your Heart Out was brought to you by the letter "A" for Andrea's Anxiety. And "E" for exhaustion.
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