A Typical Morning

The Marimba alarm on my Iphone goes off at 6:00 am and I think again of how annoying it is.  Maybe I should change it… Nope too lazy.  Instead of turning it off, I hit the snooze, but plan to get up at the next alarm nine minutes from now.  I need to shower and I need to do it before my son is up.  I want to have a few moments to myself to try and shower in a small shower stall with a 6 month pregnant belly that makes it hard to even wash my feet now.

That’s when I hear the telltale sound of water running.

Hubby has not left at 6 like he planned.  He is instead showering at six, when I shower so my mom can shower when she gets home from the gym. 

I groan and silently curse him and wonder if I can get away with skipping the shower today.  I don’t want to.  It’s Tuesday and the last shower was Sunday.  Not bad considering in third world countries they don’t even have showers, but not everyone would necessarily agree with me.  I don’t think I smell, but when do we really ever smell what we really smell like?

Maybe if he hurries, I can hurry and get in before my mom gets back from the gym.  He just had to mess with the system.  Only a few more weeks and we won’t have to worry about the system.  I can shower when I want, because we won’t have to live with my parents anymore.  I mull on that a bit and I think about all the help I won’t have when that happens and wonder if I can convince everyone that we can deal with this system a little bit longer?  Maybe till I’m done work?

He’s finally out of the shower and I find it even harder to get out of bed and try and shower like I planned.  He comes over and kisses me good bye tell me he’ll  see me tomorrow.  He’s staying overnight in Calgary tonight, so he won’t be back.  It will be me versus the two monsters, I mean children that I adore.

I finally push myself out of bed, gritting my teeth at the pain of rolling and sitting up that wasn’t supposed to happen for another month or two.  I go through my clothes trying to find something that is suitable for work and comfortable too.  Nothing fits right anymore.  I know that’s supposed to be normal, but this pregnancy is so weird that a lot of clothes that fit me in the previous pregnancies don’t fit right anymore.  Clothes have a way of making you feel like crap before you even put them on.  The capri’s and baby doll top will have to do. 

I head into the bathroom to finally shower at who knows what time, and then I hear it again.

Water running upstairs.

Shoot!  She’s not supposed to be home yet, and I realize it’s not mom, it’s dad in the shower.

Thump, thump, thump, thump.

Now Caleb is up.  I sigh, pick up my clothes and open the bathroom door to find Caleb standing there.  He startles me and I can’t be mad because he’s just getting up like he always done.  I tell him good morning and he greets me sleepily.  We jump into mommy and daddy’s bed for a quick cuddle and he climbs on top of my growing stomach and gives me a big smile and hug.  He tells me this brief story of how I apparently bent his neck funny and that was a silly thing for mommy to do.

Okay, not sure how I did that or what really happened, but we move on and I suggest a movie.  I’m still determined to try a shower because thankfully my dad has quick showers and I no longer hear the water running.

Caleb jumps out of the bed and I drag myself out of the bed for the second time wondering why I bothered getting back in to make myself suffer this pain a second time.  Caleb is already turning on lights and asking to help turn the movie on. 

Of course you can, I tell him.  It’s not worth fighting him because it’s just easier if I do it.  It’s actually easier if I let him help because then I don’t argue with him for ten min about it, when it will only take him 5 minutes to help me.  I help him choose the right buttons to push and “Toy Story 2” starts where we left off yesterday.  I think again that I’m letting him watch too much, but how much is too much really?

Then he drops the bomb and tells me this isn’t the right “Toy Story”.  Oh brother, here we go again.  He opens the DVD player while the movie is still playing and tries to spin the tray of other movies.  I cringe and tell him not to do that and ask him which “Toy Story” does he want to watch, if not this one or the first one?

“I want the one with Buzz flying.”

Right…Buzz flying?  Then I realize he just wants this Toy Story to start at the beginning.  Because I now know it as well as my three old and remember that it starts off with a Buzz Lightyear game where Buzz is flying….Okay, start the movie at the beginning….

Shower please?

Nope, I better check to see if he wants Cheerios and milk, which of course he does.  So I grab my phone to plug in upstairs and walk what feels like the mile long stairs to get him some cheerios and milk.  I head back down the stairs already dreading going up them again and give him his cheerios and milk.

Now I can shower.  Finally.

He stays watching his movie, and I manage to shower without being interrupted.  Success!

I dry off and hold on to the counter and wall trying not fall as I get dressed.  I wonder how I managed to stand on one foot at yoga, yet I fall over four times trying to put pants on.

I brush out my matted mess of hair, and realize that yes, Meghan does get her bed head from me.  No wonder she cries when I brush her hair.  My scalp is numb, and hers is not.  Better brush her hair more to help the numbing process happen quicker.

I laugh at the thought, and wonder if that makes me a bad mother.  Oh well, she has to brush her hair sometime. 

That’s when I hear her hollering for me.  She knows already that I’m around and not daddy.  It’s amazing what kids can pickup on just by having a routine.

I leave the bathroom and go open the door to her “room”.  I really should take a picture of her so called room so I can show her when she’s older how we made her sleep in the storage room while daddy renovated our new house.  I still want to try putting her in a toddler bed, but I’m afraid of what she’ll get into.  It’s a storage room, she’ll get into everything.

She blinks at me sleepily and I greet her cheerfully even though I haven’t had my coffee that will help wake me up but make me feel worse.  She of course doesn’t want me to change her.  Sitting in a dirty diaper is actually really fun, is what I think she’s trying to convince me of.  Yeah right, you might think its fun little girl, but I am NOT smelling you all morning.

I’m relieved her rash is better, but still concerned at the spots I see on her poor bum.  The poor girl has chronic diaper rash.  Maybe we should try a little harder with potty training instead of continually putting it off.

I really want to get her dressed too, but I know we still have lots of time to get ready.  I don’t want to fight with her either this morning.  So I put her jammies back on and she again can’t decide if she wants her baby and her blankets.  I grab everything knowing she will want them once I sit her down next to her brother.

I plop her on the couch next to him and she is already asking for the same cheerios and milk Caleb has.  Yes, Meghan I will go get you some too.  I cringe at climbing those damn stairs again.  But I do it anyway, breathing heavily like I’ve run a mile instead of going up about 10 stairs. 

I make it back down and hand her cheerios and milk.  I escape back upstairs to eat breakfast by myself.  They are distracted with a movie and I forget about all the guilt of letting them watch a movie again, because it’s worth it to eat in quiet. 

I have bread and honey because it’s the best thing ever, and I sip my coffee while I play Candy Crush.  It is now seven, and I still have lots of time before I need to feed them breakfast and get them dressed.  I start planning in the back of my mind the best way to do it once I’m done my breakfast.  Should I wait till they are done eating, or should I get them dressed before they eat?  What will require me going up and down those stairs the least?

My hair is still wet, and I really don’t want to do those stairs more than I have to, so I decide to finish drying my hair first and then I will get Meghan dressed and then I will take them upstairs, get Caleb dressed and then feed them. 

So I head down the stairs in time to see Meghan coming towards them.  She trips on her own feet, I assume, and starts to cry after she lands on her face.  I tell her it’s okay and to brush it off.  You’re fine.  Its carpet, and you didn’t fall that hard.

I pick her up and give her a hug.  She tells me she’s scared which is why she was running to the stairs and I cannot convince her to keep watching with her brother, so she comes with me to the bathroom while I dry my hair.  She’s not impressed when I pull out the hair dryer and I reassure her that I won’t use it on her. 

She’s apparently still traumatized by whatever scared her because she usually thinks the hair dryer is pretty fun.  So I distract her with brushing her teeth, but she wants to use my toothbrush. 

No way.

You have your own tooth brush Meghan. 

So I finally get her using her own by letting her have a little bit of Caleb’s tooth paste.  She sucks it off just as I thought she would, which is why I don’t usually give it to her, but she’s distracted enough that she finally starts brushing and I start drying.   Thirty seconds later she’s whining and crying for who knows what reason.  I keep drying my hair or I will never get it done.  I just keep telling her she’s fine and it’s okay.  Maybe she’s cursing me like I sometimes curse her.

“It’s not fine mommy!  I’m upset at something!  I don’t know what I’m upset about, but I just want you to pick me up!”

I finish drying my hair and pick her up.  We give each other a big hug and I ask her if she wants to get dressed.

No!

Everything is no.  I take her to her “room” to get dressed anyway, telling her she can pick out what she wants to wear.  This seems to work and she starts pulling open drawers as soon as I set her down.  I think she’s going for shorts first, but then closes that drawer and opens her jammie drawer.  I close it and tell her no, you can’t wear jammies.   So I try the shirt drawer and she closes it and goes for the drawer above it that just has socks and sweaters.  I tell her that’s just socks.  She nods and says, “socks!”  Okay fine, I guess you want to wear socks today.  She pulls out three or four different pairs before she finally decides on one of the many pink pairs to wear.  I convince her to try and pick out a shirt next.  She lifts each one up and says ‘no” then puts it back.  She does this to every shirt in her drawer, and ends up not picking one to wear.  So we try shorts again, and she finally picks out a pair of purple shorts.

Yes! Success! 

We go for the shirt again, and I try to play along with her when really I’m just going to pick one for her.  I finally get a pink shirt with flip flops on it for her to wear and I pick her up, set her on top of her change table and finally get her dressed.  She tries to put on her socks on by herself, which she ends up letting me do for her, and I quickly get the shirt and shorts on and carry her to the couch to convince Caleb it’s his turn.

The fight begins….

“Can you carry me mommy?”

“No, you need to help me out by climbing the stairs yourself.”

He screams, “My legs are broken!”

“No they aren’t, please climb the stairs yourself.”

“Nooo!!”

“Fine, see you upstairs.”

“No Mommy wait!  Whah!” (yes my son sounds like a baby sometimes)

I’m also trying to get Meghan to climb the stairs because I really don’t want to carry her and climb the devil stairs, but now she’s crying too, and I just want to get them up the stairs.  So I take a deep breath and scoop her up and manage to “hurry” up the stairs.

My dad rescues me and takes Meghan to put her in her high chair, while I break the news to Caleb that he needs to go get dressed.

Fight #2.

“No, I don’t want to get dressed.” 

“Yes Caleb, I want you to come get dressed.”

“No!”

I walk over to him take his hand and say, come with me.  We make it to the hallway before he realizes I’m taking him to his room (which is a real room by the way) to get dressed.  He lets go and runs away.

“No, I don’t want to get dressed!”

 I go and pick him up thinking he’s won already because I told him downstairs I can’t carry him, and here I am carrying him to his room to get dressed.

I pick out his clothes while explaining to him, it’s better for him to get dressed now so he doesn’t have to after breakfast and he can take his time eating his breakfast.  He says something very interesting, but now I can’t remember thanks to Child #3 taking all my brain cells.

I come back into the kitchen with him and manage to smile at Grandpa feeding Meghan yogurt.  He likes to help her eat, but boy does she have him wrapped around her little finger.  What a turkey.

The chaos of making Caleb breakfast continues.  He wants waffles again and I manage to forget that he didn’t even finish one of them yesterday and yet I put two in the toaster (thank God for Eggos).  Grandma gets involved and lets him decide to have a “glass” plate and a green plastic plate.  What are thinking Grandma??  He’s been happily eating off the bigger grown up plates and now you’re telling him he can have two plates for two waffles?  I lecture her, and she laughs.  I try to laugh, but the morning is starting to wear on me.  She knows she’s in trouble and I’m not really that mad at her, just tired of catering to a very picky three year old, who has a very demanding 2 year old sister (I cried a little admitting she’s two).

Finally he is eating, and so is Meghan.  I try to start making my lunch.  I’m interrupted several times as Caleb miraculously finishes one waffle and now wants yogurt, then he will have his second waffle, or so he tells me.  He finishes the yogurt and actually does want the second waffle.  I’ve managed to finish making half of my sandwich.

I finish the sandwich while he works on his second waffle and asks me how much time he has to eat his breakfast.

Lots, I tell him, which is true, but don’t worry about it.  The day before he worried about it and didn’t end up eating much of anything by the time we had to go.

I start washing fruit, waiting for them to notice and also ask for some grapes.  They of course do, so I give them both some grapes.  Meghan eats one then decides to start smashing them.  It’s more fun.  Grandpa takes them away, and she is officially done breakfast.  Apparently so is Caleb.  He didn’t finish his second waffle, but it was his second and he did have yogurt too.  Pretty good considering he doesn’t eat much supper.  Then I notice the full glass of milk on the table that he asked for.  I sigh, and put it in a sippy cup so it doesn’t spill in the fridge.  We waste so much milk because they change their mind.  Now they are actually playing, so I escape down the devil stairs to straighten my hair.  The hair dryer didn’t work so well, and before I can plug in the straightener both kids are coming down the stairs.   Meghan cries when I scare her, I laugh and give her a hug.  Why is it so much fun scaring the crap out of my kids?  Probably because it helps release the frustration.

Caleb climbs onto the stool, while I plug in the straightener, and he brushes his teeth while I straighten my hair.  He asks me every so often if his teeth are shiny yet.  I tell him he missed a spot to keep him brushing, until I magically decide that yes, his teeth are shiny.

Meghan is playing in the corner with the toilet paper stand trying to crush bugs I assume.

We’re done and I have to climb the devil stairs again.  Why can’t they put an elevator in the house?

I grab an elastic for Meghan planning to do something with her hair.  I know it won’t last, but I love pretending to do something and thinking it will stay.  I like getting the hair out of her face, because I think she’s gorgeous.

She actually sits for me, and doesn’t cry once.  She even looks at herself in the mirror and makes a saucy little face that only Meghan can.  We now race Caleb to put our shoes on, because racing is sometimes the only way to get him to do something.  Like any three year old, he loves to win.

We almost have another meltdown when he realizes we aren’t going to soccer, we’re going to day care. 
“But you said we were going to soccer!”  He says.

“No, I said we’re going to soccer tonight, after daycare.  No one will be there if we go now.”

“But can we just go see?”

Deep breath, sympathetic sigh ( or annoyed?) “No Caleb, we cannot go see.  We need to go to Daycare.”

After much convincing and a successful race where he won getting his shoes on first, we are heading out the door to day care.  One more trip inside because I forgot my sunglasses, and we are finally on our way.

I’m tired again just writing about a typical morningJ

P.S. I later discovered that the pants I had laboured to put on, I managed to put on backwards.

Brick Walls

I just finished reading about 6 books in the last two weeks.  It’s kind of a low number for me, not to brag or anything.  I think I need to renew my library card so my wallet doesn’t feel the pain quite so much, or my bookshelves considering I still love to read a paperback instead of the new electronic versions.  I am warming up to the idea of those e-readers.

I needed a mental break from my writer’s block, which happens a lot.  I am not someone who can easily spit out a 5 novels in a year.  I am amazed at some of these authors that just continue to have series after series come out every year.  How do they finish them so quickly?  Considering how quickly I read, why can’t I keep up with them?  Granted it’s usually the wallet that can’t keep up, because I love to buy my books and read them over and over till it looks like they’ve gone through ten different households.  But still, how do they do it?  How do they keep the words flowing?  I don’t have a shortage of ideas, and sometimes I will start another idea before I’ve finished thinking through the previous one and as a result, I probably have at least ten book ideas that I would love to write, but know realistically will probably never happen.

I do tend to notice trends in these authors books.  They have a slightly different story line, but the trend is the same.  So I’ve been focusing on pulling my inspiration from authors that give realistic but unlikely stories and responses.  One of the books I finished reading was by Kristen Heitzmann, “Breath of Dawn”.  I love her books.  They have layers upon layers in her stories and I fall in love with her characters every time.  I was hesitant to read this one book because of what I read on the back.  It was a sequel to my favourite book she had written and I didn’t like the idea of where she was going with it.  I won’t spoil it, whether you read her books or not, but I gave in and I read it.  I found myself enjoying it regardless that I didn’t want to.  I didn’t want to like how she drastically changed the life of one my favourite characters she has created, and then she surprised me even more.  She threw a hook into the book that I did not see coming, not just for the story but for her style of writing too.  It seemed to come from left field this hook she threw in, but as I thought about how ridiculous it was, I realized that it still had the possibility of happening.  That’s what I love about her books.  She gives unlikely, realistic stories that have you hoping and waiting for more.  She creates characters full of depth and mystery that you still wonder at the end if there was even more to them then she revealed in her book.

It’s discouraging sometimes reading her books, because I don’t feel like I could ever compare.  Yes, I know that I’m not going to be writing the next great American novel, but I still want to write something with depth that will touch someone else’s heart and soul.  I look at my current novel “Storms” and feel it falls short of everything I wanted and hoped it to be.  I’m even questioning the title right now, and all I can see right now is the big brick wall in front of me taunting me to climb over it and make this book what I dream it will be.  The wall is telling me to just forget about it, you won’t get it published and it sure won’t change anyone’s life. 

Do those authors who release five books or more a year ever struggle with that same wall?  How do they overcome it?  I don’t know, and I don’t know how I will overcome it, but I am going to throw a rope or a ladder up that wall and try and scale it one step at a time.  Who knows, maybe I’ll make it the top and see the other side of a finished story that I can feel proud to call my own.

Meet Holly King

A Character Profile from the book I’m working on.

Holly has just recently moved to Hamilton, Ontario, but we don’t know from where as she is constantly travelling and running from her past.  The curly, blonde hair spitfire ran away from home when she was only fifteen, and Hamilton is the first place she’s moved to where she started to feel safe.  She has let her childish fears of her father chase her and push from place to place, and she finally reached a point where she was tired of running, and was ready to call this place home, and put down roots.

Despite her rocky past and dysfunctional family, she did grow up in a Christian home, and she has always clung to her faith through all the hard years of being in foster care, and she has never let go of her faith.

She is strong willed, independent and is someone you remember for a long time after you meet her.  She leaves a huge impression on everyone she meets, and the more you talk to her the more you want to get to know her and you hope that she will want to be your friend too.

At 32 she still has not made decision of what to do with her life, but has always been drawn to the law and social services considering her own past in foster care and dealing with judges finding her a home to stay in. 

She works when she needs to, and doesn’t have trouble finding or keeping a job.  Her personality gets her hired every time, and her piercing green eyes and model looks have probably helped the process as well.

The only thing average about Holly is her height.  But with such a big personality and her wildly curly hair, most would guess her to be taller than her 5’7”.

I’ll continue to share character profiles from my book, and I’d love to hear any feedback.  Check out this post here.  It’s an excerpt from my book, and will give you an even better look at some of the characters.  I’ve since edited this scene, but it’s still pretty much the same.

Why I’m a Hermit Part II

Yes, there is more to the story.  There is two parts, because not only did we sell our house, we are also trying to buy a house.  Key word, trying.  The stories overlap, but it was easier to tell the sale story separately from the purchase story.

While our house was for sale, we started looking at properties because we knew we wanted to move out of the city, and we wanted an acreage.  So we started looking at acreages outside of my hometown so we could be closer to my parents and other family.  We came across this great 5 acre property just 20-25 min from my parents, and only about 5 min to the closest town.  It was close to the highway, so it was easy to get to, and it had a house on the land instead of a mobile home.  It was the dream property we’ve been dreaming of and praying for all these years.

The catch?

It’s a foreclosure.  We prepared ourselves to look at a house that would need a lot of work, but the bonus was that it was the size of land we wanted and within our price range.  Well, we were right; it does need a lot of work.  But, the work is mostly cosmetic.  The foundation and bones of the house was good.  It just needed to be updated and several minor things fixed.  It was awesome going into the house and seeing that someone had a party after the previous tenants had been evicted.  Some of their things were left behind, and someone decided it would be fun to break all the remaining dishes and push the fridge over.  The perfectly good working fridge that now needs a new door or be replaced.  They even broke the lock on the back door.  The good news is the management company hired to look after the property cleaned all their junk out for us.  One less thing to do.

No big deal,  we can handle the renovations.  The property already has fencing and a barn which will save us a lot of money.  But because it’s a foreclosure it has to go through the courts.  Before we sold our house, we thought we had lost our chance.  Someone had made an offer and our place still hadn’t sold so we couldn’t try and compete with them.  It was just too risky.  Finally our house sells and we notice that the property is still listed.  So we call our realtor to have him check, just in case.  Turns out, the previous offer had backed out,because they wanted a financing condition or something similar.  It wasn’t going to work for them, which was perfect for us.  So we made an offer and it went to the courts.  The courts approved and gave us a possession date of May 24.  Notice that today is June 11 and we still do not have our house…

So we start to jump through hoops with the bank.  We are approved, but there are some reservations and concerns about the property itself.  We are getting the mortgage insured, so they have to approve the application as well. 

They want an appraisal.  We wait for them to get the appraisal and then we get the news that the appraisal came back at $10 000 less than the purchase price, and they don’t want to touch the property.  The answer was a big fat NO.  So now we try another mortgage insurance company, because that appraisal was a joke.   Thankfully the new company is a little more flexible, or so we thought. 

They want the house inspected.  Okay, but remember people, this is a foreclosure deal through the courts.  It is an UNCONDITIONAL offer.  So backing out isn’t really an option.  I can’t count how many time we had to say this over and over. 

We get the house inspected by someone my dad knows and trusts.  I warn the bank that it’s going to come back with a list of things wrong.  The house is old and needs work.  Are you going to freak out at all the little things that need to be done?  They assure me that they are mostly looking for big things like foundation, mold, leaks and roof.  The big stuff.  So I warn them again, the roof needs to be done.  We plan to do it right away, but other than that, that should be the only big thing.

The inspection comes back.   Exactly what we expected it to come back us.  A lot of little things, which we are prepared to fix, it was a relief.  Except they get more worried.  Whose going to fix everything?  How will you pay to fix it?  Blah, Blah Blah.  Now we want you to get a quote of what it will cost to have everything under the defective part of the report.

*sigh

Ok. 

At this point I believe we were at one or two days till our possession date.  So we are also trying to get an extension from the bank selling the property.  Their lawyers agree to give us until the following Tuesday or they will start charging us interest.  Ok, fine, fair enough.  So we get the quote done.  Hubby does it, because he’s qualified, and plans to do the work himself.  The plan is now to do a mortgage plus improvements.

We give the quote to the bank and they share it with the mortgage insurer.   A lot of silence with us being told that there is now a lot of back and forth within the bank, instead of the insurer, because the insurer  wants the bank to guarantee the property, that it will be up to code and marketable.  This puts the risk back on the bank, which kind of defeats the purpose of getting an insured mortgage.

We are now past our possession date, and we get the news.  Go to the bank that owns the property and have them finance it.  We no longer want the risk of the property, and if we tried to go any further it would just be more of a headache for you.  Just go somewhere else. ( they were also concerned that if hubby was going to do all the renos, what happens if he breaks his leg or something?  Then who will do it?  It was hard not to reply, “What if the world ends tomorrow??  Or we die in a freak storm or car accident??”)

You’re KIDDING…

After all that, and we are now past the possession date, we were pushed out the door.  This is also happening the same week we are getting out of our current house.  Awesome.  We don’t even know the name of the bank that does own the property.  So we decide to go through a broker our realtor recommends (the good one, not the one who sold our house).  She starts the application and we go to the lawyers to sign papers for the sale.  They tell us that the bank that owns it is some trust company in another province. 

Even better!  Not even one of the big 5?  That would have been too easy.

So we start the process all over with the broker, and it is dragging…  We try to go through the same mortgage insurer again.  Things are going well with the new bank.  They are wondering why the property is priced so low. 

We know!  That’s what we’ve been saying!  The first appraisal was in no way close to what this place is worth.  It’s not a dump or anything, just needs some TLC.

Now this mortgage insurer wants another appraisal done.  Another one…Seriously I’m hiding under my bed covers at this point not wanting to ever join the world again.  Right I have two kids.  Still have to take care of them.

Appraisal comes back and we are informed they won’t support the purchase price anymore unless it gets lowered by at least $10000.  (Insert scream and bad words here)

The good news though is we recently learned that the selling bank was willing to lower the price if that would help us get financing.  Something our realtor has never seen or heard of happening.  So we are still fortunate.  I guess….

This is where we are at now.  We now have to go back through the courts to lower the price.  Lawyers are trying to go to court today and push for a possession date of June 21, 5 weeks after our original possession date.  The other good news, we know the bank and the mortgage insurer will back up the lowered price and approve it all, so we should get our funding on time this time.  We just need an amended purchase agreement from the courts.

This is why I want to be a hermit, and just hide from the world.  I’ve been doing a pretty good job too.  If I ignore you, don’t take it personally.  Just means you are the tenth person to ask if we have a house yet.  Nope, but I will tell the world when we do, because maybe I’ll feel like joining the world again.

 I feel ten times better after writing these two posts, and even feel a little inspiration happening.  Maybe I will get some writing done and can share more of my book that I finished editing yesterday!  Well spell check at least.

Why I’m a Hermit. Part I

I’ve been a hermit.  No, I am a hermit, and have been for the last week and half.  Why?  Because all I can think of is just how crappy life is and how crappy I feel.  If I don’t get some of it off my chest, maybe I’ll never be able to break free of this rut and constant funk that has me hiding from everyone, and not writing.  I ignore messages and texts, because I don’t have good news and I’m tired of not having good news.  When did it all start?  Well I would say it started back in March when we decided to put our home up for sale.  We made it through the constant showings and the decision to not list privately and go through a realtor.  Then all hell broke loose.  If you don’t want to hear me vent, then just skip this post, cause that’s what I’m going to do.  I’m tired and I have to get this off my chest.

Once we switched to a realtor we thought it would be easier and at least the stress would hopefully decrease. 

Nope…

People were still showing up when we weren’t expecting them.  Some would show up at 8:00 at night while our kids are sleeping.  No! you cannot come in and look at my house, my kids are sleeping!  Who told you it was ok?  Our realtor? What?  Oh you are showing up half an hour early for your showing.  Well at least the kids are up, but we aren’t leaving. You’ll have to deal with us being in the house.  Maybe next time you shouldn’t show up early to a house that clearly has two children living in it and a dog. 

I stopped caring at one point.  It wasn’t going well. The realtor couldn’t keep his days straight so we still constantly had random people showing up when we weren’t expecting it.  I may have even left the dog loose for one showing, but didn’t really care.  He didn’t eat them or anything.  He probably would have even gone home with them if they had tried.  He did look pretty sheepish though when I got home, as if he felt he should have kept the intruders out of our home.  Poor puppy.

Well, finally the house sold.  But they weren’t the right buyers.  They backed out after the home inspection because of some ridiculous excuse of the windows being original (I think there was another reason too).  Well duh!  It’s an older home and you didn’t notice that the three times you came to look at the house??  Whatever, house back on market again, let’s escape and go visit my parents.  Let the realtor deal with everyone who still wants to see the house on the weekend, and they can come whenever they want because we won’t be there!

Another offer comes in about two days after the other fell through.  Awesome, what a relief!  They seem more serious, so we negotiate and get the price we want. 

Perfect, next home inspection. 

I’m nervous.  What if they pull the same thing the other people did?  It’s an older home.  It’s not going to be perfect, but we did our best to price it for the improvements that were still needed.  I really wanted to add something in about the windows , anything to prevent them from coming back like the other people.  “No, it will look like you are hiding something,” says our realtor.  No it won’t!  It means I’m telling them the house is priced at market value!  You are going to have to do some work to it!  If you don’t want to do the work, then go buy a new house, and stop yanking us around!

Well, they do come back and want us to lower the price because of the bathroom, blah, blah, blah.  Their realtor was nice though and gave us back some of their commission so we only went down $500 in price.  Fine whatever.  Hold on…you want it professionally cleaned before you move in?  And you want the fire place inspected?  Are you kidding me??  First time home buyers…pfft.  I throw a fit and get our realtor to pay for the cleaning.  He just asks us to be out the day before possession so they can come in and clean.  OK, deal, we will do that.  We even get the fireplace inspected.  I won’t go into the wonderful inspector he was, but just remember what he said…”this is one of the cleanest fireplaces I have seen.”  Remember that…

Have I mentioned that I’m pregnant, nauseated, and having crazy stomach pains while all this is going on?

So moving weekend is here.  We have some wonderful friends come help us move.  I get the kids out of the way and we go to a birthday party.  It went pretty well, although when I came home several things were missing or out of place and hard to find, which was a tad frustrating as I had two very tired kiddos to put to bed.  You see, we thought it was a good idea to stay in the house for another couple of days, since possession wasn’t until Thursday.  I wonder about the wisdom of that decision now, but I can’t change that.  So we still needed to leave some things in the house, because we still had to live in it for a few days.  Things like say…pillows?

Finally hubby and I get everything out the day before possession like we promised our realtor, and we stay with friends while kids stay with daycare.  Phew!  We are out of the house, it’s almost over.  I finish work and hubby informs me that the cleaners tried to come the day before, when we were still in the house, to clean.  Ummm, they aren’t supposed to come until today, the day before possession.  Oh right, realtor screwed up his days again…It’s okay though, he says, he’ll get them in tomorrow to clean.  Right, tomorrow is possession day.  They’re going to have it cleaned by noon??  Once again he still can’t get the days right.

The house gets cleaned, they take possession it’s all over…Or so we think.  “There is ash in the bottom of the fireplace.  Come clean it out or we’ll hold back $100 and go to our lawyers,” say the new owners of our home. 

What the h*ll! 

Remember what the fire place inspector said?  “cleanest fireplace he’d seen”.  $100? Really?  Long story short (haha, this is so not a short post) hubby goes back to clean it out, because he is super nice.  But not until he gets 100% confirmation that he can go back.  He was more worried about them charging him with trespassing if he went back at the rate we were going with these people.  But the sale is done.  It’s not our house, and now we live with my parents.  The next part of why I’m a hermit, not writing and hiding from the world.

My Inspiration

Music plays a huge part in my writing.  I can’t write unless I have music playing in the background, and surprisingly I am writing this without music.  My biggest inspiration comes from country music.  I love the stories behind the songs and to me it feels like they have more depth to them then a lot of the other mainstream music.  That’s a generalization of course, there are lots of great songs that are not country.

The two main songs that really struck a chord with me was the Dixie Chick’s song, “Travelling Soldier”, and Carrie Underwood “Just a Dream”.  I can’t listen to them without thinking about the sacrifice so many Canadian soldiers have made.  I remember listening to “Just a Dream” about six years ago, when my parents phoned to tell me that my cousin Anthony Klumpenhouwer had died while serving in Afghanistan.  I was devastated.  I wanted so much to fly to Ontario and be with my cousins and Aunt and Uncle, but it just wasn’t meant to be.

I admit didn’t know Anthony well.  He grew up in Ontario with his 12 other siblings (yes 12), while I grew up in Alberta with my mere two siblings.  But we visited the family occasionally over the years, and there was always the game of trying to remember all their names.  My dad comes from a big family too, so I have a lot of cousins and aunts and uncles that had a hard time keeping track of us out west , just as we had a hard time keeping track of them out east.  But he was still my cousin, and his house, his family’s house was the one I remembered most because they always opened their home to us whenever we visited.

It was the strangest thing to see his name on the news, and his picture too.  I had never felt connected much to what was going on in the war over seas, but suddenly I was apart of it, regardless of how well I knew Anthony.  He was still family.

So as I’m listening to “Just a Dream” an idea for a story comes.  The story of a soldier’s wife.  Yes it’s been done before, but it didn’t matter.  I wanted to try and write it anyways, for my family.

I’ve started it but it is no where near finished.  Another story took over and and it went on the back burner.  I was overwhelmed by the amount of research I needed to do, because I really don’t know much about being a soldier, or the wife of one for that matter.  All I know is what I’ve read or seen on T.V.  But I wanted the story to be so much deeper than that.

I was listening to my writing playlist tonight, it’s mostly a playlist of favourite music, and music that inspires me, and “Travelling Soldier” comes on.  It reminded me how the idea for this story started,and how much I still want to finish it.  I will continue to work on it, because in my heart I still want to write it and finish it for my family.

**For those who didn’t know Anthony, here is an amazing clip of Don Cherry recognizing my cousin on Coaches corner.  It was so awesome and amazing to see him taking the time to recognize the soldiers that died during this time.  \http://www.cbc.ca/sports/hockey/hnic/coachscorner/2007/04/calgary_should_be_fired_up_for.html

I hope the link works…It was giving me trouble.

The Hardest Thing I had to Admit to Myself

I watch my daughter playing on the floor happily and I’m thankful she is playing happily on her own. It won’t last. I know that and she knows that.

Resting my head in my hands I wonder when the switch will flip, and will I be able to handle it this time? She really is a good baby, but I can’t seem to escape these feelings that I’ve been having about her. I think I need help, but I’m probably ok.  I’m overreacting, everything is going to be okay.

But everything isn’t ok.

I can’t go to sleep at night, because I’m plagued with these negative thoughts and feelings and I have to get them out of my head somehow. So I grab my journal and begin to write.

But I can’t do it. I can’t write the words let alone admit them to myself in just my thoughts. These words that will make me the worst
mother in the world are right there at the edge of mind and the tip of my pen.

So, I take I deep breath and write the words anyway. The words that brought all the walls I’d put up crashing down around me.

“I think I resent my daughter”

The awfulness of seeing those words in print cause me to sob, and everything I’ve been feeling and thinking comes out. How can I resent her??  She’s my daughter and I love her, but I can’t do this anymore.

I close my journal and head to the computer. Maybe I can find something that will help. You can find just about anything on google, but instead I find myself on my moms group message board and my heart stops at the most recent post another mom put up.

PPD

Is that what I think it stands for? What are the chances? I open the link and I begin to read her story, that sounds so much like my own.  She got help, and can remember the day she looked at her daughter and realized those negative feelings had disappeared and the love for her daughter overshadowed everything else and overwhelmed her. I wanted that too.

They always tell you that lots of people suffer the same way, but still no one talks about it. I could barely write those awful words and I still couldn’t admit to myself that I needed help and to give what I was feeling a name. That would make it real, and it would mean I failed. I always said I would get help.  I know better. My mom and sister both suffered, I should know better. But I didn’t.

I went on facebook and found more random posts about PPD, and I couldn’t escape that feeling that I was being pursued by Someone. Someone who saw my pain even when it seemed like no one else did. He saw and He was pushing me to admit it to myself, and to get help.  God was carrying me through that difficult time.

So I finally did.

I read those awful words over and over, and finally admitted to myself that I am suffering from post partum depression. I tried every day to over come it, but I couldn’t do it on my own anymore.

I finally told my husband and he said he knew. Of course he knew. He is more observant than I give him credit for, but a part of me still wanted him to say something, rather than wait for me to say something. We agreed that at Meghan’s next checkup we would talk to the doctor, and get the help I needed.

It was her 6 month checkup when I finally told the doctor that I was not doing well.  6 months of suffering and trying to fix myself.

She prescribed me anti-depressants and within a few weeks I noticed a difference. Similar to the other mom’s story I was finding myself falling in love with my daughter all over again.  I loved her during those first 6 months, but it wasn’t enough to escape or overcome the depression and resentment I felt.

Now Meghan manages to help me heal even more every day, with her smile, and her crazy antics.  She still drives us crazy, but my love for her continues to grow.

So, don’t wait 6 months, and if you think someone else is struggling, don’t hesitate to say something. They will probably deny it, but maybe you saying something to them and wanting to make sure they are okay, will help push them to get the right help for them too. Just because someone else cared enough to notice, and to do something about it.

I love my girl so very much, and I still struggled, but I found ways to cope, and I’m happy to say that I am almost completely off of the
anti depressants.

The hardest thing about Post Partum Depression is admitting it to yourself. Once you can do that, the rest seems to fall into place, and you’ll look back and know that you made the right decision.

I did it for Meghan, and I did it for Caleb. They needed their mommy back and my husband needed his wife back.  It was the hardest and the best decision I made, and I have no regrets getting the help I needed and going on anti-depressants.  Just that I didn’t get help sooner.

Now I look at her face and wonder how I could ever feel like that, but it happens.  Maybe it happened to you.  I hope you had the strength to get help, and I hope my story helps you.

Are We A Little Crazy? Probably.

  With one picture, all our secrets are out.  Not that they are very big secrets, some of you knew, some of you didn’t. So here is the truth. Yes, we are moving, and yes Barnim baby #3 is on …

What I Write About

I think the best advice I’ve heard in books, movies and just researching on how to write, is to write what you know.  I’m more comfortable writing what I know, but I try to expand, by writing about a situation or experience I’ve had, but the characters are in jobs I know nothing about or I’m not that familiar with.  But I understand what they are feeling, so I write about that and research what I can on what they do, to try and understand why my character would choose it.

I love writing what I know, because what I know, I love.  My first novel was about horseback riding.  That’s what I knew, so that’s what I wrote about.  The most recent novel I finished I wrote about family, pregnancy, and faith issues.  I even explored a world I’m not a stranger to, but haven’t experienced first hand.

Adultery.

It started out one way, and the story ended in a way I didn’t expect.  I won’t tell you what that is, you’ll have to read it one day to find out.  It’s done, but needs a lot of editing.  I still struggle with some portions of it.  With questions like, do I really believe this?  Is this really what I would want to share with someone if they were struggling with the same thing as these characters?  I was very emotional when I wrote some of this book, and when I look back I see that emotion and that situation I was going through in my own characters.  I can’t help it.  Parts of me always end up in my stories, who I am and decisions I make end up becoming a part of my characters too.  Every character has a small piece of me in them.  That’s scary to me, because then I wonder would anyone notice that?  Would those that know me best see me in my books?  Or do they not know me as well as they or I think they do?

Learning to write has become a very emotional experience for me.  I think it’s because of the life change of becoming a mom.  You change when you have a child.  It just happens.  But it’s for the better.  You certainly look at life differently, and I think it’s helped me grow in my writing and I think it’s made it better.

Here’s an excerpt from my finished novel Storms.  If you’re interested in reading it, once I feel it’s been edited and is ready, I’ll share it with a few, and hopefully it’ll get published and anyone can read it.

Prologue

I found what seemed to be the last available parking spot in the church’s parking lot.  I paused to watch other church goers mingle and come in and out of the building.

The website had claimed the church was large and popular.

It looked like the perfect place to hide and lose myself among the crowd.  A petite brunette stood at the entrance doing her best to greet every person entering the church.  A tall man stood beside her.  He must be her husband.  He seemed very protective of her, but he never missed an opportunity shake someone’s hand or give a high five to any age willing to give one back.

It was time to put on a smile, and go make some new friends.  I did wonder if this was it.  If this was finally the place I could put down roots, and feel like I didn’t have to move away.  I tucked a curly blonde strand of hair behind my ear, took one more look in the rear view mirror and stepped out of my car, ready to embrace whatever this new life would hold for me.

My heels clicked on the pavement, and I smiled at the sound.  There was something about that sound that always made me smile and make me glad to be a woman and a confident woman too. 

Unfortunately I wasn’t always so graceful in my favourite shoes, and to prove it, I tripped on the curb right in front of the church.

I could feel my face heat up in color that I’m sure was a bright crimson red.  Thankfully it seemed no one had noticed, until I felt someone touch my elbow to steady me.  I startled and turned to look at the one person who had seen my gracefulness.  My gaze fell on the most beautiful brown eyes I had ever seen.  He was ruggedly handsome, and I could feel myself ready to trip over myself all over again.

“Are you alright?”  He asked, breaking me out of the trance his gaze had put me in.

“Fine thank you,” I was finally able to say.  An even smaller black haired woman appeared out of nowhere, took his hand raising her eyebrows at him and this predicament the two of us were in.  I quickly stepped back, not wanting to give her the wrong impression.  They were obviously together.

He turned to this woman smiling and patted her hand reassuring, “Hello Janine.  This young woman tripped on her way into our church.  I was just making sure she was okay.”  He looked back at me smiling a devastating smile and I found myself jealous of Janine instantly.  “This is my wife Janine, and you are?”

I shook myself, trying to remember manners and polite conversation.  “I’m Holly,” I managed to say, deciding in the last moment to use my real name.  “I just moved here and heard this was the place to be for church.”

“Well Holly, it’s nice to meet you.  I’m the pastor of this church, Phil Wright.  Welcome, I hope you enjoy the service today.”

“Thank you,” I said, and decided now was the time to make my exit before I embarrassed myself anymore.

The beautiful day was quickly turning gloomy, as I felt raindrops hit my nose and then feet.  I hurried inside quickly before the downpour would soak through my clothes.

__________________________

                Phil watched as Holly hurried away, still somewhat overwhelmed by her.  He felt Janine’s hand tighten around his, and he knew he’d been watching Holly for too long.  He immediately turned to his wife, and gave her a quick kiss of reassurance.  She was his wife, he was attracted to her.  Not this Holly woman.  He pulled Janine quickly behind him, as the beautiful day turned stormy and thunder sounded off in the distance.

_____________________________

We were having coffee in my house.  Everything about the situation screamed it was wrong, but it felt so right.

                The phone rang, saving me from what felt like a trap for my vulnerable emotions.  I paused when the lawyer used my real name, after I answered the phone.  It was still hard to get used to.  Phil was watching me concerned, and I felt nervous under his gaze.

                Wait…what did the lawyer say?  Dad was dead?  What about Mandy?  Is she ok?

                After confirming Mandy was okay, I hung up the phone quickly and sat down slowly not sure what this news really meant to me.  I sensed him move towards me and froze.

                Please don’t, I thought.  I’m not strong enough.  You’re too perfect.

                But instead of reading my thoughts he gently placed his hand on my shoulder and knelt down in front of me, forcing me to look into those gorgeous eyes.

                “What happened?” he asked gently.

                I sniffed.  This wasn’t right, but who else could I go to?  “My dad died,” I finally replied.

                “Oh Holly, I’m so sorry.”  Before I could even think of resisting he had pulled me into his arms, hugging me and destroying any and all defences that I thought I had. 

                His defences were gone too.  Could he still feel how wrong this was, even though it felt so right?

                Then he kissed me, and that was it.  I was hooked and there was no going back.

Thunder rumbled in the background, and lightning lit up my living room as I melted into his kiss and soon everything seemed to disappear.  No one was around anymore, not dad, not Janine, not anyone.

                Oh God, what have we done?

A New Venture

I am someone who likes to change her mind a lot.  It’s probably why my son does it so often to us.  I get why he does it, and now I get why it can drive other people crazy.  Well I’m changing my mind again.  I haven’t been posting, because I haven’t wanted to, and because by the end of this month I’m not going to be a Creative Memories consultant anymore.    It just didn’t work out how I expected it and that’s ok.  I’m good with that.  I’ll miss my discount, but I won’t miss the stress of trying to reach sales goals.  I’m not really a sales person.  I’m a behind the scenes, how can I help you kind of person.

So, I have decided that I’m going to use this blog for another passion that you may or may not know about me.  You probably know that I love to read, well, I also love to write.  I am not the next great Canadian Novelist, but I do enjoy it.  I have always thought it would be amazing to get published.  So that’s the goal of this blog, to practise writing and share my journey of trying to get published.  I’ll practise my writing by writing about life as mom, wife and family girl.  I’ll also share snips of my stories, my ideas and other passions.  Its practise so that I keep writing and hopefully it will help me get better, and maybe it will help me get published.  I might just do a happy dance if that happens.

Have a shocked you?  I don’t know, maybe, maybe not.  Not very many people know that I like to write.  Do you also know that I have started several novels, but have only actually finished two?  I think that’s all I’ve finished, not counting the short stories I wrote for school.  I’ve only ever shared one with two people, and have heard feedback from one.  It was surprisingly good.  Guaranteed, you will not all like my work.  Everyone has books they like and don’t like.  I can’t please everyone, but I can at least try to write the stories that are in my heart.  That’s all I want to do, and if someone likes it, and maybe even learns something from it, I will consider it a success.

I expect constructive criticism, even if you don’t like it.  Let’s just keep it clean and nice.  Fair?  I will respect you if you don’t like my work, so I ask that you respect my goals and keep it constructive and not mean.

I still can’t believe I’m doing this, I feel like I’m putting myself out there for the whole world to see, but if I do manage to publish a book I guess that’s what will happen too.

It won’t just be writing and books, it will be life.  I plan to share plans, stories, the ups and downs of parenting, and hopefully I will entertain, make you cry and maybe even make you mad.  Here’s to the writing journey ahead!

P.S.  To have a peek at what I have done, just click on the “fiction press” link.  It’s an old account I set up in high school, so it’s old writing and a profile I haven’t updated in a while.  Check it out, and hopefully you can compare with more recent work and see an improvement!