There Once Was a Girl From Wisconsin
Who loved nothing more than a hot, dark espresso drink, a good book, and a laptop to write...
Throw in a 5-year-old who's more than ready for a stint at Kindergarten, a 5-month-old with a love for her mother's arms, and a husband who's had a hard few months of tragedy. What do you get? A wife-mother-woman in Wisconsin who's pretty damn tired. And today? Sicker than a dog without a spot to piss (is that even a saying?).
But here I sit, working the day job, bouncing the infant on my knee, and coughing my way through a pretty ordinary day in the life of me. Laundry tumbling in the dryer a room away, and the television blaring some home reality show to add to the various white noise of the house in hopes that the baby will fall asleep sooner rather than later. Granted if this were a Monday or a Friday you could throw in the adventures of a Super Hero into the mix, because The Kiddo would be galloping through the house causing a bit more white noise and a lot more chaos.
It sounds sorta awful doesn't it? The chaos. The multitudes of multitasking, the possibilities of one activity interrupting another or completely taking over another. Let me be the first to say, yes, it does happen and it ain't pretty. But today? Today it is sorta nice. The normality of it all means things are finally getting a bit... normal. And that is very much a good thing.
It also reminds me that I am lucky. Lucky to have a job I enjoy (for the most part). Extremely lucky to have my family who I completely adore (even on bad days). And even more fortunately to have dreams I am striving to make happen for myself (and yep, even on the bad days). And this post is sounding more and more like a Lifetime Movie event (or those Hallmark After-School Specials). But it's the truth (damn it!), so bear with me...
What I am really getting at, is that I am an ambitious soul. One who gives up nothing to become what I want to be in life. I keep churning, moving, reacting, pushing, and even sometimes bombarding my way to what I call a "better" life. Along the way I take great pride in not stepping on toes or walking over anyone to get where I am at. But, being that I am not perfect, I am sure it has happened. And will happen.
I'm afraid, it could very well happen with the project I am currently going to shop around. See, it is a bit of a memoir. About my life in one specific part of parenting. The book is true, from the heart, and honestly, one of my best writing (if I say so myself). But.... there is always a but... it does sorta imply (if not directly state) that some family members hurt me. Believe me when I tell you it isn't the "bad stuff" (as in physical or mental abuse), but little things. Some comments. Brief but fleeting actions. And some small minuscule stuff that... hurt. And here, I am going to publish it for the world to read (maybe if the stars and moon align correctly).
How do memoirists deal with this? How am I going to deal with this?
Yes, the story does need to be written. Because the idea, the thoughts, the topic--whenever I have brought it up to others like me--it's been to rousing applause. Even to strangers. People love the idea. Love the memoir quality. And can relate to the (mis)adventures, comments, and situations. All of which, could, how can I say this, hurt my family member's feelings. Or at the very least they might take a little offense. Because, really, they were only trying to help. I know that in my heart.
I'm a Midwest girl true and true. Born, raised, and now living on my own here. We don't mess with our family members. We keep peace in the family. And most of all, we don't accuse anyone of doing anything wrong (well not to their face). With this book, I feel like I am spilling some family dirt. When in reality, I am sharing a normal Thanksgiving meal conversation. Or what happened last week while we were visiting the farm. Or last summer's vacation. Nothing serious. Nothing deep. Definitely not something detrimental. Just a little something that hit a nerve with me. And apparently with other mothers that are around my age.
Well, let's open the flood gates! Because, the time has come to face the facts. Books about real things, hit home. And hit where the heart aches. Let's hope this book has what it takes to break out my writing... and opens the eyes to my family and friends.
Throw in a 5-year-old who's more than ready for a stint at Kindergarten, a 5-month-old with a love for her mother's arms, and a husband who's had a hard few months of tragedy. What do you get? A wife-mother-woman in Wisconsin who's pretty damn tired. And today? Sicker than a dog without a spot to piss (is that even a saying?).
But here I sit, working the day job, bouncing the infant on my knee, and coughing my way through a pretty ordinary day in the life of me. Laundry tumbling in the dryer a room away, and the television blaring some home reality show to add to the various white noise of the house in hopes that the baby will fall asleep sooner rather than later. Granted if this were a Monday or a Friday you could throw in the adventures of a Super Hero into the mix, because The Kiddo would be galloping through the house causing a bit more white noise and a lot more chaos.
It sounds sorta awful doesn't it? The chaos. The multitudes of multitasking, the possibilities of one activity interrupting another or completely taking over another. Let me be the first to say, yes, it does happen and it ain't pretty. But today? Today it is sorta nice. The normality of it all means things are finally getting a bit... normal. And that is very much a good thing.
It also reminds me that I am lucky. Lucky to have a job I enjoy (for the most part). Extremely lucky to have my family who I completely adore (even on bad days). And even more fortunately to have dreams I am striving to make happen for myself (and yep, even on the bad days). And this post is sounding more and more like a Lifetime Movie event (or those Hallmark After-School Specials). But it's the truth (damn it!), so bear with me...
What I am really getting at, is that I am an ambitious soul. One who gives up nothing to become what I want to be in life. I keep churning, moving, reacting, pushing, and even sometimes bombarding my way to what I call a "better" life. Along the way I take great pride in not stepping on toes or walking over anyone to get where I am at. But, being that I am not perfect, I am sure it has happened. And will happen.
I'm afraid, it could very well happen with the project I am currently going to shop around. See, it is a bit of a memoir. About my life in one specific part of parenting. The book is true, from the heart, and honestly, one of my best writing (if I say so myself). But.... there is always a but... it does sorta imply (if not directly state) that some family members hurt me. Believe me when I tell you it isn't the "bad stuff" (as in physical or mental abuse), but little things. Some comments. Brief but fleeting actions. And some small minuscule stuff that... hurt. And here, I am going to publish it for the world to read (maybe if the stars and moon align correctly).
How do memoirists deal with this? How am I going to deal with this?
Yes, the story does need to be written. Because the idea, the thoughts, the topic--whenever I have brought it up to others like me--it's been to rousing applause. Even to strangers. People love the idea. Love the memoir quality. And can relate to the (mis)adventures, comments, and situations. All of which, could, how can I say this, hurt my family member's feelings. Or at the very least they might take a little offense. Because, really, they were only trying to help. I know that in my heart.
I'm a Midwest girl true and true. Born, raised, and now living on my own here. We don't mess with our family members. We keep peace in the family. And most of all, we don't accuse anyone of doing anything wrong (well not to their face). With this book, I feel like I am spilling some family dirt. When in reality, I am sharing a normal Thanksgiving meal conversation. Or what happened last week while we were visiting the farm. Or last summer's vacation. Nothing serious. Nothing deep. Definitely not something detrimental. Just a little something that hit a nerve with me. And apparently with other mothers that are around my age.
Well, let's open the flood gates! Because, the time has come to face the facts. Books about real things, hit home. And hit where the heart aches. Let's hope this book has what it takes to break out my writing... and opens the eyes to my family and friends.
