On May 25th, 2018, I went “under the knife.”
I willingly let someone cut me open, mess around a bit, and put me back together. I had “a little work done.” I had “a nip and a tuck,” to use all the Hollywood clichés. The next two questions I get following that admission have been the same:
“What did you have done?” and “Why?”
I’ve decided to answer in blog form, because that’s how we writers like to answer questions about our lives—in writing.
We’ve all heard the expression:
She’s finding herself.
He’s taking some time to find himself.
It’s synonymous with someone leaving for an exotic place, eating weird food, and probably writing a memoir. Or someone quitting her job and locking herself in a basement with a guitar. Both scenarios are usually explained with an eye roll. But what does it really mean, to find yourself? For me, it has everything to do with looking in the mirror.
We all have things about ourselves we’d like to change. A word for it is dysphoria, which literally means “a state of unease or dissatisfaction.” Dysphoria* comes in many shapes and sizes. Some of us are only “mildly dissatisfied” with things about ourselves. Others struggle with crippling dysphoria. For some, it’s a temporary struggle. For others, it’s a lifelong battle. What I’m going to talk about is somewhere in the middle.
First off, I’m sorry I’ve neglected this blog. I wasn’t sure exactly what it might contain or how often I would write, but I didn’t intend to take such a hiatus. So, again, sorry about that. This is a post I started to write back in March, but never did. I’m glad I waited, though, because it has become even more relevant this year. So, here goes… Continue reading
Maclane. “Wee-Bubby”. My “little one”. My “snugglebutt”. My “big Mac”.
If there’s one thing about Maclane that stands out, it’s his history with speech. As some of you know, Maclane was in speech therapy for about a year, because he could only say about three words at nearly two years-old. His doctor told us this was most likely because he had fluid in his ears for a long period of time before having tubes put in. Needless to say, the speech therapy was very, very effective. Now, Maclane never stops talking. Ever. As he said to his Papa recently, “I just start talking when the sun comes up.” And the other day, he informed me, “Mommy, I have a lot of words inside of me.” Except…that first sentence came out of his mouth like this, “I jus start tal-ting when da sun tomes up.”
Happy New Year to all!
We’ve made it through the Mayan ‘apocalypse’ and I have made it through a rough few weeks with the flu and pneumonia. It seems like getting sick is my Christmas tradition, but this was one was especially bad. Thankfully, it seems to be on its way out. Having been doing a lot of sitting around while sick, I’ve been catching up on my Facebook/Email/UselessReadingThingsOnline. While reading about everyone’s holidays and some sweet Christmas stories, I stumbled upon a couple of personal stories that really hit home. These are two stories from two moms, neither of whom I know personally. I found their stories because they had been shared by friends of friends on Facebook.
So…I’ve been compelled for a while now to say my two cents about Facebook. I refuse to do it on Facebook, however, because I just don’t want to be one of ‘those people’. The very people who compel me to write this post.
First off, I apologize to everyone for my hiatus from blogging. Obviously, I had a baby, and I’ve taken a few weeks just to focus on her when I have quiet moments alone. It’s been eight weeks now, though, and I’ve been itching to write again. So I’m going to start off by simply telling Sutton’s birth story. I have each of my children’s birth story written down somewhere, and I love to be able to go back and remember the details that become fuzzy over time. Also, with each pregnancy, it was fun to look back and see how my doctor appointments went, how dilated I was (or wasn’t), and wonder if the current birth would go like the ones before. This, however, will be my last birth story…
As I sit here, still awaiting the imminent birth of Baby (#4) “Button”, I have my last baby on my mind. Maclane was #3, and he was supposed to be the last baby. I think, because of that, I’ve seen him as a ‘baby’ much longer than the other two. Of course, in reality, he’s very much a big boy now. He is three years and three months old, and he talks up a storm. Sometimes, only I can understand his continuous monologue, but he keeps on all the same. During the day, Maclane is independent, assertive, and curious. He has something to do all the time. At night, however, he is Mama’s baby.
Yes, yes, I know. The title of this post is also the title of a popular Christian book for girls about remaining a virgin until marriage. That is absolutely not, however, what I intend to write about today. Although I think the message of that book is wonderful, I think it’s clear that, for me, that ship has sailed. Ten years after getting married, however, I find myself a different kind of ‘lady in waiting’.
So, I’ve decided to blog. And this is the post where I say hello and attempt to explain why I think you would be interested in what I have say. That’s a tough question…can I plead the fifth or say I don’t know? I suppose that’s a terrible argument. But I never was good at those persuasive papers in school. Maybe I can hook you with my interests. Let’s see…I am a writer who hopes to publish novels someday. But someday soon. I am an actor/dancer turned scriptwriter/director who loves both sides of the stage equally. I am a mom to three, soon to be four, kids. I am a wife of ten years. I am a Christian.
What will I blog about? Is it too vague to say, ‘whatever I feel like’? I believe that anything I write will be colored by my perspective as a mom, a Christian, and an artist. However, I’m not setting out to write a ‘mommy blog’ where all you hear about is spit up and diapers, and all you see are pictures of my kids. I’m also not trying to blow your mind with my artsy lingo and reviews of obscure productions. I’m also not here to preach and proselytize. I just write about what I see, what I think, what inspires, or annoys, or otherwise moves me.
I see this as a place where I can speak my mind freely, but not obnoxiously. I like to keep my Facebook posts friendly and mostly neutral, because I really dislike long, angsty, whiny, TMI posts. Reading my blog, however, is optional. So I can speak more freely here, and be a little long-winded if I choose. So I hope you’ll check in once in a while. I hope I can make you laugh, or cry, or empathize, or maybe just think.
And now…on with the blog.