About My Book.. Some More

 

I’m really looking for feedback. I have hit a wall of writing lately. I know that it is mostly due to lack of planning than lack of content. This is Chapter Fifteen. Tell me hate it. Tell me you love it. Tell me I have typos. Tell me that I should keep my day job. Seriously. Rip it apart. (More can be found at ChapterBuzz… No I’m not a masochist, I just need a reality check)

Valerie held Scotts arm tight and rested her head on his shoulder in the back of the package truck while he gently stroked her hair with his free hand. She was almost complete. Having her husband by her side made the entire journey seem very trivial. She was minutes from reuniting with her son and would have time to truly rest. With Scott she could figure out how to take on the CDC and free the rest of her family.

Twenty minutes passed since they left her home for the resort. With no windows in the back compartment they only saw strips of light at the seams of the door but she could hear Griffin snoring. There was no doubt Hyka was napping as well. Aaron and Austin were in the cab in their new blue uniforms, navigating to the resort.

“I’m so sorry,” Scott whispered in the dark and kissed her head. “I had no idea you were in danger. I’m sorry I wasn’t there to help you. I’m sorry I wasn’t with our son. I had to wait an entire day to get word that you were alright. They had me take a train to get the affected in Kansas and said I could pick up Caleb and meet you. I can’t believe I helped them.”

“They were probably hoping you would lead them to Caleb. I am so thankful for Gia. I am glad it was her. Did you know my dad actually hired her? Remember how I wanted the other nanny, but she declined at the last minute? I guess that was all Dad’s handy work.” Valerie smiled and found her husband’s hand. “How lucky are we? I love you more than anything.”

“I love you so much.” Scott kissed her hand.

She held him tighter has the truck turned into the resort parking lot. When it had stopped, Austin and Aaron got out of the cab and walked around to open the back to release its occupants. The afternoon sky was thick with clouds that threatened rain. Like most of their journey, there was no one around. The parking lot was quiet and only a few cars were left in the lot. No one came in or out of the building and the power seemed to have been turned off. The sliding doors stayed open and warm humid air blew from the inside like the building was breathing. There were only a few people in the lobby that quickly disappeared when they saw the uniforms.

“It’s this way.” Valerie led the way in a jog to the farthest corner of the hotel. She knew this was where she would find him. The clue was so clever, but no doubt this was exactly what Gia intended to convey with the French birthday card. Valerie ran down a hallway that opened to a giant atrium. A stream that ran through the hotel was stagnant and smelled lightly of algae. She followed it around to a bridge. The artificial island hosted a cluster of restaurants and “Little Venice” where she had taken Gia for her birthday. It was completely empty, and with a quick once over she decided there were no more clues.

“The room is on the third floor. 356. She quickly found the stairs, heart pounding, and ran up as fast as she could. 395 was the first room. She sprinted down the balcony of rooms that overlooked the restaurants and the stream. Each room she passed she ran faster until she came to the room. Her heart in her stomach, the door was open. Without bothering to knock she pushed the door open to see Gia face down on the bed.

“Gia? Oh, Gia!” At the sound of Valerie’s voice Gia lifted her head and looked at her. She had fresh blood coming from a cut on her lip and a significant bump on the side of her forehead. Tears poured down her face, she shook her head to Valerie. Caleb was not there.

Valerie collapsed on the floor as Griffin walked in and lifted the girl from the bed and held her tight. He brushed the hair off her head wound to examine it and kissed her mouth.

“They took him, just left. I didn’t know they were watching the house. They must have planted microphones. They knew exactly where we were. I’m so sorry. I tried to stop them.” Gia cried to Griffin. He cradled her head and reassured her. Valerie watched like it was a movie, like it was not happening. She was numb to even her own grief. Scott stood next to her in the door way equally devastated. Something caught his eye and he move across the room to a sitting chair. He picked up Caleb’s blanky, held it to his chest and looked back at Valerie.

Lights in the room sprang to life, music could be heard down toward the island and the pumps began moving the water in the stream. Valerie stood up, confused. Loud rumbling came from overhead.

“Planes.” Austin said entering the room. Then he stopped and looked at the two on the bed. The sprinkler heads popped down from the ceiling and began spraying everywhere.

“No,” Austin whispered. He looked over at Scott when the electricity exploded into the room.

“Valerie stop!” Aaron yelled over the volume of the surge.

“It’s not me,” as the words left her mouth, Scott was hit by the electricity, then Griffin, then Gia who was still in his embrace.

Valerie screamed as she watched the Scott fight the pain. She reached out to him to pull the energy but it simply transferred through her continuing its path to the couple on the bed. She wanted it to stop. She tried to control it, but could not. She wrapped her arms around Scott and held him as tight as she could. What felt like an eternity was about fifteen seconds, then the current, sprinklers, and all power stopped at once. Still screaming, she lowered Scott’s weight to the ground. Austin fell to his knees at the site of his dear friend still embracing the young woman on the bed. Screams could be heard from outside the open door behind him. Aaron held Hyka out on the balcony as she stared blankly at the destruction.

“Phase two,” she said to no one in particular. Valerie knew she was referring to the CDC’s next phase. Austin had seen it in his dream. He had known they were going to lose Griffin, Gia and Scott. Valerie thought they could stop it from happening. Her pain quickly turned into anger. She kissed her deceased husband on his forehead and stood. She did not dare look toward the bed at her friends that had also been taken. She moved past Austin who was still sitting on his knees and out the door to the balcony.

“There are survivors. Like us. We need to bring everyone together, as many as we can find. They have taken everything from us. I’m going to take it back.” She clenched her teeth so hard fighting the tears, but could not stop them. Just as her knees buckled Aaron swooped her up like a child can carried her to the next room. He kicked it in easily. The room was covered in water but vacant. He stood her on her feet, opened the closet and handed her a dry robe.

“Change your clothes.” He did not ask her and she did not argue. She could not think, but went through the motions mindlessly. She turned the light on without touching the switch and closed the bathroom door. As she took her clothes off, she realized that they had been burned and left very little covered. Her boots had even melted from the incident. She removed her garments and covered herself with the soft hotel robe similar to the one that hung outside of her own shower at home. Scott had bought it for her. Everything reminded her that, though his body was in the next room, his soul was gone. She pulled open the door to receive her set of directions. Aaron had flipped the mattress of the bed offering a dry place to lay down. He had also pulled out the sofa bed and had already taken his own boots off, laid down, and closed his eyes. She knew he was not sleeping. How could any of them sleep?

Valerie opened the mini refrigerator and without glancing at the labels, grabbed three small plastic bottles. One by one she drank. Grief dulling her senses, she was unable to taste the alcohol.  She tossed the empty bottles in the trash can and crawled on the mattress. She laid down facing the wall and just stared waiting for the liquid to take effect. The hole in her heart suddenly felt like it would swallow her. She felt so empty. She did not want to talk or even breathe. It shook her soul and with her tears came a scream so loud that the roar of the planes continuously flying low outside were no match. She pulled a wet pillow into her and squeezed it so close to her body. She buried her face into it so hard it hurt, trying to stifle the emotional pain that wrecked her being.  Every time she would open her eyes something would trigger a memory. A small desk lamp reminded her of Caleb’s bedroom and how Scott would turn it on and hold Caleb during thunderstorms to keep him from being scared. Scott was everywhere. There was not one thing in this world that would not bring his memory back to her mind, ripping her apart over and over again. For hours she sat like this, rocking back and forth, cycling through various intensities of sobs. Finally her exhaustion caught up with her, and she fell asleep.

In the middle of the night Valerie was awoken by the phone ringing and a small red little blinking in the pitch. She looked to the lamp next to it and it popped but did not light. The bulb had broken. She groped in the dark for the receiver.

“Hello?” she was still groggy and unsure of where she was.

“Ms. Russel, I am so sorry for your loss,” a man’s voice said on the other end. The death of her husband the day before seemed like a horrible dream, but the slimy voice that had an audible smile brought back the reality of the situation far to quickly.

“Thank you, Dr. Jarrett,” Valerie answered politely. He knew where she was and that her husband was gone. He could be watching her with the security cameras in the hotel. She knew she had to be careful of what she said and did to not give herself away.

“It is my pleasure to inform you that young Caleb is safe and having a great time with Grandpa Burton. Would you like to talk to him?” The mere suggestion choked her.

“Say hi to Mommy, Caleb.”

“Hi Mommy!” Caleb’s sweet voice was completely oblivious to the situation and fate of his father.

“Hi, Sweetie-Petey.” Valerie could not help but cry from heartbreak and relief. She had to play Lucas Jarrett’s game now. That had been his plan from the beginning. He needed her and she would do anything for Caleb. “I love you so very much, Baby. You be good for Grandpa and Uncle Johnny.”

“I love you, too, Mommy.”

“Now, Ms. Russell, I would send a vehicle for you, but now that I no longer have drivers, this would require me to make a personal appearance. As it is, since you have yet to cooperate, this has put us significantly behind schedule and I must tend to matters here. I also understand that you are capable of operating your own vehicle. So, neighbor, why don’t you take a trip down the street and come see your family. They miss you.” Dr. Jarrett maintained his audible amusement while Valerie fought to keep her frustration and tears silent. She had to pull herself together and buy some time to develop a plan.

“Please let me bury my husband. You can expect us this evening.” She did not wait for a response before ending the call. Hearing her son’s voice left no question in her mind of where she was going next. She had to look forward or she would lose herself in the trauma of the previous day. It was so unfair that the world continued without recognizing Scott’s death. Why did Lucas Jarrett get to go on and he did not? Valerie laid back down on the bed and closed her eyes. She cried until she fell back to sleep.

Hyka pushed the door open and it slammed against the wall, causing Aaron to jump to his feet from the sofa bed, but Valerie did not move. She knew she was no longer being hunted. They could not take anything else from her.

“You up?” Hyka asked Aaron who was caught off guard and could not articulate his anger at being woken up. He huffed trying to find the words.

“Everyone is waiting at that France place downstairs.” Valerie got up from the bed and walked past Hyka out the door to the balcony. There were about fifty college aged kids assembled at the restaurant with a few smaller children. One girl held a tiny baby.

“We gathered everyone in the hotel. The power surge took their age, or whatever, so they all look like that. There is about seven others, not including ours. We collected the casualties in one area to say some nice words.” Hyka tried to be as sensitive with the facts as her vocabulary would allow.

“Where is Scott?”

“They are still in the room. We laid him on the other bed. We knew you would not want us to move him without you knowing.” Valerie nodded and was satisfied with the answer. She remembered how Hyka used to scare her, but now she found her to be something steady in her life that she could count on.

“Dad wants to give Scott and Griff military honors. It won’t be one hundred percent protocol but it would mean a lot to him. Also, there is a backhoe out in the far south parking lot. If you could help us out with that, it would save us hours of digging.” Hyka was the best person to handle these details, and Valerie was thankful someone had taken the lead. Despite sleeping hard, she still did not feel like herself. She had horrible vertigo and she felt weak. She gave an approving nod to Hyka to proceed with all plans for the deceased. She looked again to the group gathered at the restaurant wondering how she was going to rally these people to action so soon after many of them where hurting from loss. Valerie turned to address her friends who were exchanging whispers of their own. Valerie lost her balance and fell backward hitting her back on the balcony before falling to the floor. Aaron caught her head and guided it to the ground as her eyes rolled back.

When she came to, she was in the room Aaron had taken her to the night before. She had been stripped of her robe, but dry blankets were pulled up to her chin and she had an IV hung next to the bed.

“You feeling alright? You got dehydrated and passed out. I am disappointed that three little shooters would knock a DiaZem on her ass,” Hyka joked trying to keep the mood light.

“I’m so sorry,” Valerie began to cry. Just when she needed to lead them to vengeance and victory, she could hardly keep her eyes open. She was broken.

“You need to rest. There is no hurry.” Aaron spoke up from the other side of the room.

“If you help me outside, I can help with digging. Not physically obviously, but I could probably keep it going. I need some air. This place is so humid.” Valerie needed to occupy her mind. Sitting in a room, unstimulated let her thoughts wander back to Scott and the fact he was gone. She also needed to talk to Aaron outside and away from any surveillance the CDC had access to. There might not be anywhere safe, but being around heavy machinery could offer a better environment for secrecy.

“No,” Aaron said with a paternal authority. “You’ve been out for two hours and frankly you look horrible. There were a few volunteers from the group to help outside. No one needs to see you like this. Just rest.”

Anger welled up in Valerie’s throat. She understood what he meant but denying her human emotion in front of the masses was infuriating. All things considered, she felt her current state to be easily justified.

“I am going outside. Someone will drive that truck thing and we all need to talk. Get my clothes from the truck, and something to eat. I am starving.” Valerie felt a tinge of guilt for being so demanding, but she did not want to divulge too much of her suspicions. She had told Dr. Jarrett they would be there by the evening, but at the rate things were going, they would not make on time.

Outside, the air was notably cooler and refreshing compared to the dank humid air of the resort. The sky was the same overcast as the day before, but evidence of a past rain still covered the ground. Valerie walked independently to the area where the backhoe was and where they would say good bye to their loved ones. Five young men were already working in the area, three digging and two breaking down furniture to fashion wooden crosses to mark each plot. They rotated these jobs before noticing her approach.

The backhoe’s engine turned over with ease, but startled the workers out of their focused tasks. Aaron gave a thumbs up to one of the workers who took up a position in the driver seat of the truck and wasted no time getting started.

“Dr. Jarrett called last night. He has Caleb and is expecting us to arrive this evening. He knew exactly where I was and what had happened to Scott. I imagine he is tapped into the hotel surveillance. I’m going to just air on the side of caution and just assume that he can see and hear everything, regardless of where we are.” Valerie stopped and took a seat on a parking curb close enough to the running machine that her three companions had to strain to hear her. “The only way to face this is to face it head on. We have to go in. But aside from that, I have no idea how to fight this.”

Austin exhaled hard and rubbed his brow. “I’m not going with you. Someone needs to stay back and gather reinforcements. If you can’t fix things from inside someone has to figure out a different angle. Valerie, I do not doubt your ability to see this through, but you might find yourself in need of pocket Aces.”

Aaron nodded in agreement which helped Valerie. She did not have the energy to argue. She understood Austin was looking out for her.

“I’m going in.” Hyka said in case anyone wondered where she stood on the matter. Valerie smiled and nodded.

“I’m coming,” Aaron said next. “I’ll meet up with your old man and brother, try to pull others into our cause. Once they know the fate of everyone they left behind, it should be easy to host a revolt from the inside. Then all you have to do, Val, is play the game.”

“How long do you think all this will take?” Valerie asked motioning to the men making progress on the make-shift cemetery.

“As long as you’re up to it, a couple of hours. Once we get two or three done on this side, we can move down the way and dig more. Give people room to pay their respects while they’re still working. We’ll do Scott, Griff and Gia’s last before we leave, but it’s going to be late. We should wait until morning to move,” Aaron suggested. His expression was that of concern.

Valerie shrugged, “Dr. Jarrett knows where to find me if I’m late.  What else could they do?”

It started to rain.

The Personality Book Tag

I follow a blog called Trice Read that posted this tag today. I use Meyers Briggs personality types to help me develop characters.

If you want you can do this tag, I’m not going to tag a bunch of people but I’m curious to see what your personality is!

Get your free MBTI personality test at Sixteen Personalities or Personality Page.

All pictures in this post were borrowed from the Sixteen Personalities website.


What is your MBTI personality type?

So I retake this test often. I thought that the INFJ fit me to a T, but T must stand for “today” because after taking the test it says I am an ENFJ, but in my defense  extrovert and introvert are pretty split down the middle. So I’ll play the game today. I have the “Protagonist” personality which I absolutely love.

“Protagonists are natural-born leaders, full of passion and charisma. Forming around two percent of the population, they are oftentimes our politicians, our coaches and our teachers, reaching out and inspiring others to achieve and to do good in the world.”

What is your personality like?

I’m basically not shy and have a strong personality. I radiate authenticity, concern and altruism. I am genuine to a fault. I never have a hidden agenda because I find secrets and animosity exhausting. I am self aware of my own feelings “but if they get too caught up in another person’s plight, they can develop a sort of emotional hypochondria, seeing other people’s problems in themselves, trying to fix something in themselves that isn’t wrong.”

If you were a character in a book, what would be some of you character strengths and flaws?

Fluctuating self-esteem is a common theme for me. I only feel validated when I have reached the standard of outstanding that I know is my best work. Mediocrity makes me nervous and often causes me to question my abilities in everything versus just the one area that I succeeded at but was not my best work.

I am also super sensitive to my own emotions. I do act emotionally but I make this ridiculous attempt to make logical plans in response to my extreme emotional reactions.

Do any authors share your personality type?

Barack Obama, Oprah, MLK, Johnny Depp.

What fictional characters share your personality type?

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I’m not overly excited about any of these.

If you were a character in a book, what job would you have?

“This attitude, alongside their social skills, emotional intelligence and tendency to be “that person who knows everybody”, can be adapted to quite a range of other careers as well, making Protagonists natural HR administrators, event coordinators, and politicians – anything that helps a community or organization to operate more smoothly.”

What personality type would complete your OTP?

Some one with a lot of patience and the ability to work through things for the ultimate goal of being happy and work toward that goal continuously. If at any point I feel that I am the only one trying to make it work, or the other person does something to hurt me, I immediately wonder if my efforts will even make a difference.

Who are some fictional characters that would complete your OTP?

Jon Snow. Easy. (He’s an INFJ)

What do you guys think? Would your personality match up with mine?

A Snap Shot of Life on the Extra Board.

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Photo Credit: Ales Krivec

This super-short is in response to a writing prompt that is very dear to my heart. You can find the original post at What Inspires Your Writing?

Twelve hours had come way too slow. He had been stopped in the middle of nowhere with no one else but the engineer for ten hours of the day. Not moving. Just waiting for dispatch to give them a green light. Instead they will deadhead in a van with a sketchy driver to their destination: a dirty hotel without consistent wifi. Bored and tired, he was ready for the day to be over.

Ten hours had come way too fast. She really felt she could use a few more hours in the day. By the time dinner for the kids was finished, hers was cold. She did the dishes while she ate, with the baby chatting in her high chair and son playing Mouse Trap upstairs. Bottles washed, diaper bag and back pack ready for the next day. Her own lunch prepped and ready to grab for the morning, she takes a few more minutes to clean up the living room before scooping up the baby and carrying dirty clothes with her upstairs. Then baths, PJs, teeth brushed, stories told, milk refilled, bedtime snack given, cuddling the babe back to sleep, more milk, and finally she is able to take off her shoes and work clothes. Laying in bed, she keeps the TV on for light and mindlessly looks at her phone until sleep arrives. She can hardly make it to 9pm, exhausted. 12am a little boy appears and snuggles until she is able to wake up enough to return him to bed and fulfill his requests. 2am a sleepy girl cries for milk. Twenty minutes to satisfy her hunger and then back to bed. She glances at the clock. 3 more hours until her alarm goes off. She doesn’t even know what day it is.

 

 

What Do I Say When…?

 

As an introvert, I do not often mix work and my personal life. At work, I am “on”. I enjoy the people I work with and give as much of myself as I can. At home, I put up a protective barrier and little gets through, maybe aside from Social Media. But then there are certain people that also give of their energy instead of taking.

I have a dear friend that has such a wonderful and eloquent way with words. She is such a positive light, even in her own hurt. I sometimes joke when I introduce her to people, that she could tell you about a dog taking a poop in a way that would make you WANT to pick up that poop. She finds, identifies, and celebrates the good in people and situations. She is truly amazing in the way she breathes life into people.

So it absolutely broke my heart when I learned that this awesome woman lost her father. I am really horrible at condolences and often just give space to the grieving. But as we both are very articulate of our feelings, I simply asked if I could share her gift of word with the world.

“Nearly 15 years passed after his first stroke, but his tenacity never wavered. That ogre called stroke suppressed his body, but not his will. Today, he unexpectedly surrendered to the daily plight endured, cast hemiparesis aside, and walked into heaven’s gates unbroken. While dense fog permeates our midst, we have been lavished with an outpouring of love.”

She wrote an email upon her return from the service:

“I return to work today still feeling afflicted and emotionally bankrupt, but at the same time, attempting to find gratitude for the small lights of love in my midst. Those came by way of a multitude of messages and expressions of kindness.

I kindly accept warm embraces and must add, those have sustained me in the past week. While I will readily accept all hugs, I do ask that all refrain from questions. I know that any conversation about my dad will erupt in a flood of tears.

My dad’s services honored his life and highlighted his will to serve. I hope to continue carrying the torch he so readily upheld.

I wrote the following piece, printed 50 copies, and had all our family read along during a dove release ceremony. Thought I’d share below:

Your soul is released to a place on high;

Where trumpets sound in the celestial sky.

Those left behind your hand wish to hold;

We trust in God and will rely on one another, further cementing our bond as if cloaked in gold.

We promise to band together, to forge and cinch our allegiance and unity;

To honor your life and remember you for all eternity. ”

 

She told me that a conversation with her niece sparked her inspiration for this poem. She felt the need to pull her family together. Time had waned the urgency of family and life took priority of making memories. We talked about coming of age where we leave much behind to work hard and make it on our own, that sometimes we no longer make time for those outside of immediate day to day life. My friend did not want her family to feel regret, or dwell in a place of division or seclusion. But she wanted to honor her father in the way that memorialized who he was.

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My dad loved to spend time on the water, so we spent the weekend at Grand Lake sharing stories and honoring his life.

She went on to tell me that her father had the gift of word. That he had a way of speaking life, hope, and happiness into anyone. Something she wanted to carry in his legacy.

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“You left my world unexpectedly;

without notice or advisory, you were taken from me.

While I cannot comprehend why you are no longer here,

I try to hold on to reason and rationalize my fears.

Many of us want to rewind the clock, to hug you one more time,

and feel your embrace, hear you try to make rhymes.

Sometimes your words were poetic to me.

You were gifted and talented in prose, with a God-given ability to speak.

When inspiration knocked, a flood would emit

and the end resulted in persuasive words that yielded significance.

I will honor your legacy by appealing to others with your gift of word,

And continue your tradition of inspiring others with purpose to serve.

Your words infused conviction for all humanity.

You manifested God’s love, showcasing a life of integrity.

Thank you for the gifts bestowed along the way,

For establishing a bedrock of truth, for that and more we honor your life today.”

 

My heart is so full of this woman. Her words are always so heavy with love, encouragement and praise. It was no wonder then when she described her father’s gift of word, where she had gotten it from. She spoke of him in a way that made me wish I had known him. There is no doubt that everyone that had that privilege was a much better person because of it.

 

Dear My Sweet Friend,

I cannot fathom the emptiness left by the physical absence of your father. The hunger and thirst to hear his voice, and receive his words that would pick you back up and set you on track. You have worked so diligently to ensure that your family is able to feel warmth and love in a time when otherwise would feel cold and regretful. I also can see that this is the constructive way that you have chosen to heal. You have strength beyond measure and his light and gifts shine through you every single day. You honored him even while he lived and you continue to do so. You are allowed to be emotionally taxed. You are allowed to cry. You are allowed to set those boundaries for yourself. But know that you are supported by people that admire and love you. Thank you for letting me share you, your father, and your story with the world.

Hold the Phone, I am an Author!!

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OMG Mom, You’re AMAZING!!

My writing and novel are being show cased!! Please hop over to What Inspires Your Writing to check it out!! Follow the links to my novel and make it #1 on the charts (I’m currently #2!!)

 

The Up Hill

 

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The thing about depression is there is no black and white. No yes or no. It’s a journey. Some days the going is hard and other days just treading water is a success.

5 days shy of 8 months and I finally feel like things are on the up for me. You see, getting better does not really start at getting help. Some times it gets significantly worse after that. Getting help is like clawing at the sides of the hole you are in to slow down the rate at which you are falling. You are either going find something that saves you, or you’ll hit the bottom. And for some, that is the only time they are able to climb out.

For me, I did not quite get to the bottom. I am adult enough to know that things could have been far worse. For me, reaching out meant a small dose of medication, counseling and a ton of support from the people around me. I am not embarrassed about postpartum depression. I have a ton of friends that are pregnant. If they start having symptoms, they know exactly who to talk to.

My PPD was not a disconnect from my children. It was different. It was not even triggered by pregnancy and birth, but exasperated due to the hormone changes that go along with it. I’m depressed because I hate the way I look after these beautiful creations clawed their way out of me like Ace Ventura out of a rhino butt..

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I am sad because I will never be 20 again. I will probably NEVER fit any of those jeans in the blue tote in my basement. And I will NEVER reach my fitness goal of wearing my old bras again either.. I have so many cute ones, this in itself is depressing. You can tell me I am ridiculous and to go easy on myself because I just had a baby. But when have you ever known me to go easy on myself? It’s one of my quirks and everyone secretly loves me for it. If I was not so hard on myself, people would not get paid, and my son would smell like farts. All.The.Time. So you are welcome for me holding myself to high standards.

Back to what I was saying. I am glad you think I am beautiful. My husband is still attracted to me after this transformation, but I am not attracted to me. Nope. I struggle with the state of things. I know how to fix them, but I have not been able to sleep because babe wakes up at least every two hours to nurse, I work full time and I solo parent a lot of the time.

And I have been so tired that I would cry when my alarm went off. It was bad.

This week has actually felt like I consistently kept my head above water. I was even faced with something that would have completely derailed me, but it did not. In the past and with everything I have been through, I thought I was pretty resilient, and I guess I still am. I did not stop fighting to be happy. I knew that if I was unhappy, my children would be effected. My marriage had already taken a huge hit. But I made it through. We made it through. I could not have done it with out them.

But you know what the big turning point was? Moving the baby to her own room and sleep training. I stopped nursing in the middle of the night. She protests adamantly in the beginning but no more than an hour of crying and falling asleep and crying again cycle. After one week, I am a brand new person. I could, and plan to, conquer the world. Now I can enjoy my coffee instead of survive on it. Maybe it is selfish of me not to want my baby close at night, and I have noticed that as I get older, I am less and less willing to compromise on things like sleep. Selfish? Fine. I will own that. But I am also getting back to a personal state of better health. Which is far more important to both of my children at this point.

So thank you darling. I know when you grow up and read what your mama wrote about you, you might not like it. But if we could help others by sharing our experiences, then I’d say we’re already a pretty darn good team.

 

via Daily Prompt: Better

5 Reasons YOU Should Be Crafting (Or Know Someone That Does)

Get your hands dirty

I have always been a quick learner, fairly crafty, and extremely cheap. So when I met my good friend Jasmine of The Jaybird’s Nest, I knew she was my people. Through the years she has taught me some very valuable things. Not only that, but she helps me raise my kids. For this, I am indebted to her forever. lol So let me tell you some fun things she has taught me about crafting.

  1. It’s a marketable skill. If you decide you are done working and ready to “stick it to the man”, you have a means by which to support yourself. Now I’m not a HUGE dooms day prepper, but let’s face it, if you can make things then you can trade things. People need clothes. If you can crochet, knit, or sew then BAM, you’re a valuable asset.
  1. Signs, Signs, and more SIGNS!!! Nothing boosts your mood like a well-placed snarky sign. The possibilities are endless. Christmas, Halloween, even spring!! They make me happy, they make you happy. Everyone needs more happy. PLUS you save a bazillion dollars on decorating your home. Find some ugly furniture with good bones at a yard sale, and wha-la! You can transform it to match your décor without dropping a few hundred dollars at ikea.
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Picture by The Jaybird’s Nest- Mass production underway.

  1. OMG kids are much cuter in something that was custom made for them. This should actually be its own post. I am fighting the urge to just not leave an explanation and flood the rest of this with adorable pictures of children and homemade stuffs.
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My Little Miss. Her shirt, the sheet, and the frame were made by The Jaybird’s Nest.

  1. Cheaper than therapy- Plus emotions BLECK! There is something about finishing a project that really teaches you a lot about yourself. Whether that “finish” means you return it to the trash where you got it, or it ends up as the beautiful piece you envisioned all along, you learn how much patience you have, how much coffee you can consume, and how long you can actually ignore your children whining about “She’s touching meeeee” Seriously, she can’t even crawl. Just scoot 5 more inches and you are safe from your octopus-banshee sister. Sheesh!

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  1. Supporting small business. For some crafters, your support could help them buy yet another pair of cleats because the ones they bought last week no longer fit. For others (like me) it saved me money on having to BUY you a Christmas present so that I could buy my guy another Stay Puft Marshmellow Man because he lost his at the doctor’s office.
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The Jay Bird’s Nest “Before”

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The Jaybird’s Nest “After”

I make things because I have a driving need to be creative as most crafters do. It is a healthy outlet, plus power tools make me feel… Powerful? lol And when that one project turns out so good, you want everyone to see it when they come over, there is nothing like that feeling of accomplishment. Or you could just be happy you finished something before starting a fifth project.

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I did this yesterday. It was the cushioned backing of an UGLY bench. Now it’s a beautiful photo board 😀

I asked my mister yesterday (while I was painting in the kitchen and MAYBE i got a little paint on the counter) if he was annoyed with my crafting. He said no, not at all, but he just wishes that I would finish my projects before starting them so I don’t have a dresser hanging out in the garage, taking up space for a couple of years before I ultimately abandon it anyway. But hey, you win some, you lose some.

Why do you craft???