Potty Training

I’m leaving Aurora and writing behind for this entry. My first priority in life is my son, Henry. He is how I start my day and usually how I end my day with all the worries of the next day on my mind before I drift off into (cross your fingers) a miraculous full nights sleep. I’m going to broach our latest Henry milestone, the very scary potty training months. I was completely against potty training Henry before two and was hoping to push it even further than that. For one reason, I was sure it was going to be HELL! For another, he is my baby and although changing a diaper several times a day sucks I was certain this was another stage ending his babyhood.

My husband insisted we try. He believed Henry was ready. I wasn’t on board! He finally tricked me into it by telling me we couldn’t have another baby until Henry was potty trained. Well that perked me right up and as I always tend to do with Henry, I threw myself in full force and never looked back. I started with the seat that fits on the big potty but that wasn’t steady enough and my first attempt to put Henry on the potty ended with him screaming and throwing himself from the potty into my arms. Lets just say that day did not continue well and I put his training on pause until I was able to get him a portable potty that night. I got the potty, bought an Elmo book on potty training and tried everything to make this new potty look like the most awesome adventure he was going to have. He liked it! I was happy, he was happy, so now all I needed to do was teach him how to use it.

On a side note, I am a nanny and work about forty minutes away from my home. I take Henry with me so I am still with him 24/7. Mornings in my house are the hardest! There are so many things that I have to do to get out the door and I’m sure if I woke up just a little bit earlier it wouldn’t be a problem, but that is never going to happen. So I have to pack my “bags” every night and then load them up in the morning. I have the grocery bag (containing all our food for the day or week) the toy bag (holding any number of things but mostly the twenty-five figurines he can’t live without) and lastly the diaper bag (two sets of clothes, pull-ups, any medicine, diaper cream, sunblock, my wallet and nook). I load all those and Henry into the car. This is after we wake him up, get him to go potty, give him his milk and pray he doesn’t cry when we take away the binkie. On top of all that I added a potable potty to the list of things I needed to get in the car every morning. On this particular day everything was in, Henry was holding his lovey (known as brown dog or doggie) and we were off to work. It wasn’t until I got there an hour later and five minutes late that while unloading all that crap I noticed I forgot the potty! I had a small panic attack and decided to just deal with it. I refused to put him in diapers for the day so I was just going to have to make the big potty work. First potty attempt he cried for his “lil” potty and then went on the big one. Second time he didn’t make it. He stood right in the middle of the rug and peed. I tried to get him to stop and make it to the big one and that only resulted in a trail of pee through the house. The little girl I watch decided to crawl through the trail in an attempt to follow us. I got them both clean, came back and tried to clean the massive mess. During all this I stayed calm remembered it was only the first week and went about my day. It wasn’t until I sat down to play with the kids that I noticed I hadn’t cleaned the rug. I spent the rest of the day with a huge, wet pee stain on my butt.  

As you might imagine it took several mornings of “naked time” and lots of drama to get things right. Henry loved “naked time” and was over the moon to run around the house all morning with no diaper and no pants. Henry would go pee no problem! It was the pooping that became an issue. He’s a pretty regular guy and I always knew when he had to go. It was now a matter of getting him to the potty in time. This resulted in many piles of poop on the floor. It was not pretty. I was certain it would never happen and then a week of some intense training, Henry was going no problem!!! A month later we were accident free and I felt and still do like the luckiest Mom in the world to have such a smart little man.  

Current status: still no accidents and have escalated training to getting clothes off and on the potty by himself. My patience is seriously being tested but every time he does it all by himself he gets the sweetest smile and the last fifteen minutes don’t seem so wasted. 

I Heart Writing

The thing that I love most about writing is the ability to create something that would have never existed if not for the fact that I thought it up and put it down on paper. Aurora was only a reality in my mind and then in the people that I have allowed to read it and further more now apart of those who are reading this blog. It’s amazing to me, because I love writing her and hope that one day everyone will get to know her.

What surprises me the most is how easy I find it to sit down and just write. Sometimes I have an idea but mostly I start typing and my every thought spills out. There is nothing better than creating a character. Starting with how they look to who they are and the way I can have them accomplish anything with the tap of a key. I also have to admit that there is nothing more satisfying than creating someone you can hate or dragging a relationship out for as long as you like, continually taunting the reader with the first kiss and then destroying the relationship completely. It may sound mean but no one wants to read a happy ending in twenty pages, it’s the struggle of getting a character (that someone has come to love) to their final destination. Imagining their pain and frustration and then rooting for them to succeed. Every time a character gets knocked down you want the reader to fight for them. This is what I hope to create, the relationship that I feel every time I fall in love with a book. It is the build up that keeps you intrigued and I love to do it.

What I hate is editing. You may have notice I am not one to reread or catch my mistakes. I often have misspellings and other grammatical errors but I am so bored with the idea of editing that I can’t bring myself to care. Between my sister-in-law and myself, we have edited my book three different times (pure torture)! I still don’t think it’s ready to be read or to even look into getting published. But I love the fact that every time I read it I am still happy with every character, plot line and ultimately the ending and favorite part. It is my favorite part mostly because it leads to the second book.

I have written the second book but only in my head, besides a few notes. The reason? I have forbid myself to write it until I decide what to do with the first book. I’m certain I will write it one day, but for now I am content with the idea of continuing my favorite characters and creating some new ones all in my mind.

   

Aurora

Aurora and I, is probably the best description of myself I could ever give. We are one and the same and yet could not be further from each other. I always knew that writing this book was going to become a way for me to move on from the miscarriage. I didn’t realize that I would put so much of myself into Aurora, or by doing that it would become a therapy for me to get any pain I had ever experienced out, to maybe explain myself through her. It wasn’t until my sister read the book and said “So, you’re Aurora.” that I started to wonder. She further asked who the other characters were and who she was and I couldn’t answer. I hadn’t notice that I was writing myself let alone other people in my life. As I thought about what she said, I went back and started to read over some of my first chapters. I began to slowly recognize bits and pieces of everyone I knew coming out on the pages. No one character was a single person; but the person’s habits, mannerisms or annoyances all became a part of the book. In a way it’s amazing to think that everyone I love is in the book and one day it might even be interesting for them to guess who they are, because I will never tell.

I started to notice myself in Aurora through the simplest things-my eye color, how I have motion sickness, the miscarriage, things I love, things I hate. However I still felt she was her own in many way, it was just getting harder for me to see where I ended and Aurora began. If the pain and problems Aurora was having were really hers or my way of working through things I didn’t even know about. Aurora’s many family issues caused me pause, although I created her and gave her these problems it scared the crap out of me to think I might have them. So for now I will live in ignorant bliss and believe that they are all hers.

I began to really dig myself out from under Aurora, I didn’t want to be her, I didn’t want to think I was really that troubled. Then I finally found our one profound difference, Aurora’s love life (and the tiny fact that she is a vampire and although I have translucent skin and on occasion want to bite someone who pisses me off, I am not). She can never decide what she wants or who she wants or if she is even capable of love. Aurora’s trust issues keep her from believing in the most important person- herself. If you can’t trust how you feel and what you know then how can you be proficient enough to trust someone else. I can trust and do trust to my own detriment but the one thing I did right was to trust the man I love. We found each other young and have never second-guessed the choice to be together. Our love has brought us through some pretty hard times but we made it and are stronger for it. I am simply obsessed with my man and although some find our interest in each other annoying (how often we talk, text and spend all our extra time together) I am delighted in our constant attentiveness. It’s been eight years and I love him as much as that first sunny day in a Starbucks coffee house.

I am not a patient person...

You might think that I had been writing for a while before I dove into starting a book or that maybe I even liked writing or was at the very least good at it. If you did, you would be wrong. I started college and stopped just as fast. I have never pursued anything but my husband and the life we have created together. I do not like being challenged or doing things that I have no interest in and I am not in the least bit competitive in any aspect of my life. I am just me, and that is boring as hell.

So instead of changing who I am and maybe being a little adventurous, such as trying any number of things that people have suggested over the years. I decided to take one person's advice and write a book. You may also think that it progressed slowly and I might have thought about it for a while since I am prone to ignoring most helpful ideas. However, I didn’t wait a second. I ended the phone call, picked up a pen and never looked back. As if the words were already inside me, just waiting to get out, I couldn’t seem to write fast enough. In a matter of minutes I had several characters, plot lines, events and then the whole book outlined. I couldn’t wait to start writing the actual book, so I didn’t. I sat at our computer and just started writing. Words, dialog, and descriptions came at me so fast I started carrying a pad and pen with me wherever I went. I would pull over and write notes, start watching TV and suddenly have the best idea, end a conversation or task just to get something down. It was madness and it went on for months.

I’m not sure my husband meant it as a challenge, but he told me I wouldn’t get past the fifth chapter. (I have to interject that he was further very supportive and went out and bought me a laptop that very week.) I felt instantly that I had to do it, not only write those five chapters but finish the book. And I did. Only it took me longer than I had originally planned. Mostly because once I get something in my head I can’t let it go and I am the most impatient person. I have to do it now, get it now, and go there NOW! (My husband loves this about me) So there were two things that I wanted and I never realized that one might derail the other or at the least make it a little harder to achieve them both.

The first thing I wanted, a baby. It had been three months since my miscarriage and we wanted to try again. Some thought it was too soon but it didn’t matter because we felt ready. Well, a month later I was pregnant. This time I kept my mouth shut and waited. Twelve weeks later it was Easter and we made our big announcement. Those three months were hell! I never thought it would affect my writing but just looking at the screen made me want to puke. So it became a hobby instead of an actual book and that was okay. I was living high with my pregnancy and enjoying the last few months of time with just my husband. The second thing I wanted, to finish the book. I never stopped thinking about it and before I knew it I was feeling better and writing. To only get derailed once again! As fate would have it I delivered my son on the same day that I lost our first baby. I prayed that whole weekend that I wouldn’t go into labor. I was six days away from my due date so I never really imagined that it would happen. One year later on the exact same day that God took our little girl we got to hold our baby boy. I still think about her daily and don’t believe there will be a day that I don’t. But the truth is, if I had had her then we wouldn’t have our son and I can’t begin to imagine that.

The little man was perfect and still is! He continues to put a cramp in my writing time but he will always come first. I will only have this time with him once. Too soon he will hate spending to with his Mom and do whatever he can to be with his friends. For now I am enjoying being the center if his small world and knowing that I will always find time to write. 

Sometimes I feel more me sitting in front of a computer than doing anything else. Maybe because it is only me, and there is a freedom in being who you are and doing what you love. However I will never be a Writer, I will always be a Mom and a Wife in my eyes. My world only exists with my family in it. My son is my heart and soul and there will never be another Henry.

Taking it back to 2008

I’m actually sitting here typing this with butterflies in my stomach. Why? I am extremely nervous! I hate it when people go on and on about something of no interest and then I figured, maybe someone would be interested. With that thought in mind I decided to write a blog.

By no means do I presume to think that I can write or that there will be anyone finding this interesting but I am hoping to get something very important to me out into the world or at least claim what happened and how it got me here. 

This is how it all started. My first pregnancy was not what I had expected. My husband and I had been trying for a month and there it was a perfect plus sign! I went to the store, bought a bib embroidered with, I love daddy, put it in a bag (under his favorite candy) and thrust it into his hands as soon as he got home. I honestly cannot remember his expression for I was far too caught up in my own bliss. However he was elated and his first thoughts were to tell his parents. Which we promptly did that evening. It was no surprise to them; they had guessed it as soon as we asked to come over for an impromptu dinner. We then spent the evening happily chatting about our future child and grandchild. 

It killed me waiting the week for my first prenatal appointment, but when it came I couldn’t have been happier to see my perfect little one on the monitor. Of course all we saw was a small speck, but that speck was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen and I was utterly in love. I was already certain it was a girl and had instantly referred to the baby as “she” or “her” instead of “it” (which I hate). My husband and I picked a name and had decided to keep it secret until the baby was born. Everything was going great except for one small detail, I wasn’t as far along as they had thought. I didn’t think anything of it at the time, not even when the doctor wanted to see me the next week. I thought this is great I get to come see my baby again.

It became a joke after my next few visits that every time I went to the doctor I was less pregnant. I was always a week behind where I should have been, until my final appointment when it was clear there was no heartbeat. I couldn’t believe it at first. I was young, health, nothing had gone wrong and yet there was a baby and now there wasn’t. I had a D&C the next day, which I can’t even begin to describe. Heartbroken and empty I walked out of the doctors office, with my husband holding me up and I was never the same.

I cried for what seemed like forever. The hardest part was telling people what happened. Every time I started to move on, a distant family friend would call to congratulate me, and the pain would seep back in. It might sound strange but I never felt more alive than after I lost her. Alive in the most horrific way, for I had never felt such acute pain in my life. I felt as if nothing had ever mattered more to me than that baby and I couldn’t have her. I would never have her. I tried a million things to feel as though I was moving on. Died my blond hair black, got a tattoo in memory of my late grandmother and shut out everyone and every feeling. It wasn’t until I started reading books on the paranormal and fantasy that I started to find interest in life (which is ironic since all the books I was reading were about anything but real life). I guess that was the point, to let my mind wonder into a state of impossible. That within those few hours of the day, people could become something so unbelievable I couldn’t help but want it to be real. I was hooked! I read every vampire, witch, wizard, ghost, werewolf and mythical book I could find. And then I wrote one…