08.28.06
Posted in Me at 6:08 am by Administrator
My brother’s words rang through my cell phone and echoed hollowly in my ears for a second. Then outrage swept up and replaced the echo.
“I’m NOT acting like a soccer mom. I am acting like a MOM!” Righteous indignation oozed out of every word.
I was watching my son play his very first soccer game on Saturday. He was wonderful, of course, and zigged and zagged through the field, dribbling the ball expertly. Until, that is, “The Incident.”
I was not aware of the exact nature of “The Incident” until after the game. I simply knew something had occurred. And whatever it was, it had royally ticked off my precious angel boy. He turned into “ornery not-so-angel” boy. He stood on the field. He ignored his coach’s repeated cries of, “TJ! Run down the field! Come on, buddy!” He ignored the pack of boys scurrying by. The penultimate moment, however, came when the ball (I am not exaggerating one iota) literally rolled up to him, over his shoe and rested next to his foot. He simply stood and stared at it, his arms across his chest, pout at full attention.
We all hollered and screamed and suddenly the gaggle of soccer boys hurtled up to him, swept by him and the ball was gone. TJ remained stolidly in his place. At that moment, I hollered, “Get in the game now!” To which my brother replied, “Don’t be a soccer mom.”
It was hard not to do that very thing. My husband almost had to restrain me from running out onto the field in the middle of the game, swooping up my son and taking him to a private location to “discuss” his behavior. He was in sore need of AA: Attitude Adjustment. Of course, that might have caused a scene (“Did you see that crazy, lunatic woman running across the field, hollering at her son? Poor kid…stuck with a real soccer mom.”), so I refrained.
Until we got to the car.
No Nintendo for the rest of the weekend (“Waaaahhhh”) and if appropriate behavior modification does not occur, no Nintendo for…well, FOREVER!
My husband, always the more calm, rational one, explained the importance of “team playing” and listening to the coach and cooperating even when seemingly unjustly accused of some misdeed. That happens frequently in sports, and as TJ loves to play sports, it’s an important lesson to learn and learn early.
Sigh. At least we got his attention.
I’m still wondering if the Soccer Mom is paying attention as well.
MOTHER’S DISCLAIMER: Please help me out. If you read any stories about my children and know me and my children, please don’t mention any of these stories to my kids or in front of my kids. They are easily embarrassed by these stories and although one day they will enjoy and appreciate them, I’m sure, I do not want them to feel foolish or less of a person because of them right now. Adults can appreciate the humor in these situations, but the kids, as yet cannot. I believe they are of an age where I will now have to ask their permission before publishing any stories, which may reduce the number of great tales to be shared, but it will certainly keep my kids’ self esteem in tact…at least for now.
Permalink
08.26.06
Posted in Me at 10:39 pm by Administrator
Here we go again…only this time I am watching from afar.
After the unlikely, and, at the time, unusually active hurricane season of 2004, the norm is not to be surprised by a hurricane, but rather to anticipate multiple hurricanes. I sit here and look at the map and projections of Ernesto, the latest storm, and I am amazed.
My amazement stems from the fact that I am not shocked, surprised, or any such emotions. In fact, I should feel nothing but relief. My recent move has taken me far out of hurricane-harm’s way. Instead, I feel the now familiar and newly usual emotions of fear, dread, resignation to the situation, and the first stirrings of planning: “where will we go, where will it go, what will we need, how long will we be without power this time, will it hit anyone but us?”
Orlando was in the cross-hairs of three hurricanes and one tropical storm between August and October in 2004. I think it was 1 hurricane about every 3 weeks that year, plus the whole “Crazy Ivan” thing (that one devastated the panhandle, went up through Georgia, out the Carolinas, did a loop and came back as a tropical storm and hit Orlando…just for good measure).
Last year we only had one brush…Wilma, at the end of the season and she merely graced us with lots of rain. Little or no wind. No fear of falling trees on houses. No fear of power outages. Just…more resignation.
But I guess what is truly amazing me is that here I sit, so far removed from it all, and still the impact of that first season is deep and far-reaching. I still shudder and slightly tremble from the uncertainty of it all. Post traumatic stress syndrome? Perhaps. And I am ashamed to admit that. I have never lost anything, anyone or been even slightly inconvenienced compared with those in south Florida, New Orleans, Alabama and Mississippi. I’m lucky.
But I’m still resigned. And not a little bit afraid.
Here we go again….
Permalink
08.18.06
Posted in Me at 10:06 am by Administrator
In the course of researching the history of women’s suffrage in the United States for my latest project, I have come across amazing information. I have read pamphlets by women who dedicated their entire life to securing a woman’s legal right to vote. And I have read the words of women who thought voting foolish, frightening and dangerous, and spoke out accordingly in their own attempts to staunch the tide. I am grateful the latter were unsuccessful.
So many women were instrumental in this process, especially in the early 1900s. Besides Susan B. Anthony, there was Carrie Chapman Catt, Elizabeth Cady Stanton, and Ida Husted Harper, an Indiana woman who bucked all convention, and her husband’s wishes, by becoming a newspaper correspondent. Many, many, many thousand others whose names may never have been written down by anyone also devoted their time to the cause.
One group, called the “Silent Sentinels” set up a perpetual protest in front of the White House in 1917 and did not stop for eighteen months until at last, President Woodrow Wilson publicly supported the issue and it was at last put before Congress.
These women went against everything society told them was true, proper and correct. And they did it willingly.
Ida Husted Harper helped organize Indiana’s state women’s suffrage society. Eventually, her skill in dealing with public relations and the press, captured Susan B. Anthony’s attention. At Mrs. Anthony’s request, Mrs. Harper then became the official reporter and historian for the National American Woman Suffrage Association.
Mrs. Harper eventually went on to pen a very large work chronicling the life and times of Susan B. Anthony, which resulted in a six volume publication and included some contributions from Susan B. herself.
The more I researched and drilled down in various online libraries, the more awed I became. At one point, I discovered this picture:
Look closely at this woman. She is literally standing in a sea of men. 
In New York. On Wall Street. Speaking for all the world to hear. Talk about vulnerability! She doesn’t look frightened to me, however. No. She looks passionate, empowered and ready to do battle with every man there, if need be.
As the fight for women’s suffrage reached its apex, a bill was introduced to congress, appropriately named “The Anthony Bill.” it took some time, but at last, women were successful. The fight did not begin in just the first two decades of the 20th century. It began over a hundred years earlier when American women were facing issues never before faced by any modern woman of the day. And unrest that probably had sat in the chest of every woman since the beginning of time began to fester and build and grow, until no longer could women deny the fact that their “unalienable rights” were, in fact, being abused.
I have developed a great new respect for these women and their long, arduous battle. For without their sacrifices, without their dedication and true grit, I would likely be unable to sit here and freely publish any words I wished and put my name, my female name, next to them.
So I leave you with this picture, to mark a day most momentous in the history of American womankind. And I applaud women everywhere who stand up for themselves and fight persecution and true oppression.
Note: I found these photos at the following website, which has a fantastic collection of other suffrage-related photographs and document copies. http://www.loc.gov/rr/print/list/076_vfw.html#scenes
Permalink
08.17.06
Posted in Me at 4:00 am by Administrator
Apparently, I am failing the masses (ahem) who read my blog daily. They are hanging on my words as if they are drips of nourishing honey.
Or…
I am just not blogging like I should.
But as I have already stated in a previous blog (see “Where Does The Time Go?”), I am actually busy. Working, editing, writing, creating. Oh, and getting my kids on their very first school bus ride to their first day at a new school, entertaining my in-laws for two weeks, my parents for two weeks and preparing for my brother (who is coming in two weeks) and my sister-in-law who will be here the week before I leave for Dallas and the ACFW conference. Did I mention Bunco in there anywhere? And soccer practice and cheerleading practice? I’m tired just thinking about all I have to do.
And I still want to write a 45,000 word novel by the time I get to Dallas. So far, my word count is at 552.
In the midst of all this, I had the very great pleasure to attend my local Romance Writers of America chapter’s monthly meeting last weekend. Colleen Coble, author of the Rock Harbor Series, the Aloha Series and many other books (I believe her next release makes it number 30), was the guest speaker. She was entertaining, informative and exceedingly friendly.
She offered a long list of suggestions for how to focus your writing in the proper direction. My favorite quote from her was, “write what you are passionate about. Me? I just enjoy killing people!” Can you guess what she writes?
I had the chance to chat with her outside the meeting and she informed me that her best friend is none other than Kristen Billerbeck who I have been hoping to meet. Colleen told me that she and Kristen, along with two other authors, have a blog they write together and have a great time doing it. It made me wonder if that is something I should propose to Rita (my critique partner).
Regardless, Colleen graciously offered to introduce me to Kristen Billerbeck at the conference in Dallas in September, and told me to find Colleen so she could do just that. I plan to take her up on the offer. As it happens, I am taking a course at the conference taught by Colleen, Kristen and the two authors with whom they blog.
Enough for today…kids need to get up, parents need to be entertained, and books need to be written.
That’s all I can do for anyone today.
Permalink
08.12.06
Posted in Me at 12:46 pm by Administrator
No one ever wants to hear bad news. Ever. In fact, I believe some people (I would be one of them) live their lives with great precision just to avoid hearing bad news. Not always, though, are they (me) successful.
Today I learned sad news about a friend’s marriage. It ripped out my gut. My heart is aching and tears threaten. And that’s just what I’m going through. What about her?
I sit here, pondering my own marriage. Is my relationship strong? Do my husband & I talk enough? Do we talk enough about the right things? What’s out there right now between us that doesn’t have a name yet, or that we maybe are not even aware of? It unsettles me.
I question everything. I look at him differently. I wonder, “is there something he’s not telling me?”
I hate bad news.
I mourn for my friend. For her, life will never, ever be the same. Fifteen year old memories of my sister’s similar experience are now shockingly new and fresh. The person my sister is today most assuredly is not the person she would have been had her marriage remained in tact. For my sister, rebirth came through fire. The ashes smoldered for years, and even now, all these years later, occasionally flare up and make life miserable again for a while. I see my friend standing at the precipice to that rebirth, and I mourn for her.
Instead of questioning my marriage, I am going to run to my husband and lock my arms around his slightly pudgy waist, all the while telling him how much I adore him.
And then I will pray, and mourn some more, for my friend.
Permalink
« Previous entries Next Page » Next Page »
