Writing Prompt: surviving the summer

Writing Prompt:

"It’s hot, the kids are home and crazy, our pets are panting, the days are long…share your number one Summer Survival Tip."





If you know me at all, I know you can figure out what popped into my head when I read this one.

But interestingly, I posted a similar question on facebook a couple days ago. The kids were driving me nuts, I was tired of sitting home (though was feeling quite productive with the tween helping me keep an eye on the toddler), I needed a new perspective. So I asked my 244 closest friends, "parents: how are you keeping your kids entertained this summer?"

And here is what they said:

Jessica by locking them in the basement. 

Ericka I give her lots of candy then send her to grandma's. 

Rebecca G I let them play with matches, run in the street, and babysit themselves. it's really working well. 

Lisa I'm with Jess. I tie my kids up, then read all day, eat bon bons and watch soap operas!  

Me I was just going to slip them some vodka and turn the radio up really loud - dance party at our house! It's my vacation too, right? 

Becky H Duct tape works well I have heard :) 

Jeff waterboarding.....they hate it!

Do you see how I surround myself with like minded people?

So after a brief deliberation, I have decided that my answer is the same.

I use vodka to survive my summers. The good stuff, in case you are looking to help me out. 100 proof Stoli - the blue label.

How about you? 

Cracking my chamber of secrets

“One need not be a chamber to be haunted, one need not be a house. The brain has corridors surpassing material place”. -Emily Dickinson

What haunts you? This question intrigued me on the list of prompts this week. But I was also grooving on the six word memoir (write about a significant time in your life in just six words). For some reason, both of these prompts brought me to the same topic, which is a little strange because its not something I think about on a daily basis. But it's what popped into my head, and that is what prompts are all about - triggering a thought process you can write about.

So what is it that haunts me?

My first love.

Not my first boyfriend, because I loved him in that cute teenager way. My first true, all consuming, I-will-do-anything-for-you sort of love. It was love in its most raw form. I fell hard for this guy. Had it been a longer relationship, I could have totally and completely lost myself in that love; I would have sacrificed everything for him. It wasn't one sided, he loved me too. Just not enough.

I realize as I look back on it that it wasn't healthy, the way I felt. The way I would have given up anything for him still freaks me out, makes me worried for my younger self. Its the way my life would be different now if it hadn't ended, that is what haunts me.

The thing I try and remember, when thoughts of him surface, is the strength it took to walk away at the end, the strength it took to survive it. Moving on was hard, it took me years to really trust anyone again. But when it all ended there was that moment of truth, the moment I try and hold on to, when it didn't occur to me that I could do anything but tell him to leave. Even though it hurt, even though I'd never had to do anything so hard, even though it just about killed me to do it, I watched him walk away without a thought of chasing after him.

And I survived it.

I hated him him with a passion that surprises me still. I can remember thinking over and over again that if he didn't come back to me, if he didn't want me, there wasn't a chance in hell I was ever going to speak to him again. I deserved better. I am proud of the fact that when I had to walk away I was able to. That I found the strength not to beg, not to be 'that girl', the one who keeps calling, who keeps coming back for more hurt. I cried and I hurt and I crumbled, but I survived. I need to hold on to that.

As I reflect on this short but powerful relationship, the thought that truly haunts me is not so much the guy. It is that without this experience, without the heartache and the hurt, I would not be where I am today. Because of this hurt, because it ended at work and I couldn't stand the memories there anymore, I asked for a transfer. Because of this hurt, I walked in to that new job and met the men that would change my life forever. I met the man I would later marry.

I am thankful that it ended. And that because of that ending, because I had the strength and the foresight to make some changes, remove the reminders and start a new chapter, because of all these things, I got to start over. I got to start a new, healthier chapter in my life.

The past does haunt me, because for so long I wanted to go back to the good times before the hurt, before I had to grow up.

As I have sat here drafting and redrafting and trying to sort out my thoughts, I am determined to refocus that memory, to remember only the lessons. It's time to allow myself to rest easy knowing that I made the right choice. I hurt for my younger self, but realize too that without that hurt I wouldn't be where I am today. And I like where I am, and who I am here with. My husband. My kids. My family and friends. The ups and downs I have now are survivable. They don't break me because I am not in it alone, and I know that buried inside me is a reserve of strength that I sometimes forget that I have.

My six words? What doesn't kill you makes you stronger.

Okay, that's seven. But who's counting?

My favorite child

My mother-in-law once told me that each of her children were her favorite, but for different reasons. My husband was her favorite one to just curl up with, watch a movie, veg out, the one she loved to relax with. The other two she had equally awesome reasons for classifying as her favorite. I’ve always loved this and now that I have three of my own I totally get it, more so than just with the two boys.

My oldest is my favorite because for a while it was just the two of us. There’s a special bond between a single parent and child and you will be hard pressed to come between us. He keeps me on my toes, keeps me thinking. He’s always been easy to be around (well, except for the teenager part, but he’ll grow out of that), he’s full of personality with a drive to be his own person. We like to say that he was born 40; he’s just always been a little adult. He’s always been someone who questions and analyzes everything until he is satisfied with the answer. He will immerse himself completely in his latest passion until he knows everything there is to know about it, and then he wants to share it with the world. His drive impresses me, even when it annoys the sh*t out of me. I can be real with him (you know, with parent boundaries), I can be honest with him and I appreciate, embrace and totally look forward to the adult he is becoming. Of my three kids, he is my rock. He keeps me grounded and stable and challenges me to be the best that I can be.

My middle one is my favorite because he makes me feel loved every day. He is my cuddler. He wakes me up with hugs and I love yous and that is sometimes the best part of my day. He’s sensitive, compassionate and empathetic. He wants the world to be a happy place and genuinely hurts when he finds reason to believe it isn’t. He’s the one I can curl up on the couch with, or I can grab a ball and play outside with; he helps me relax, sends me positive vibes and gives me the motivation to make it through the worst of days. There is nothing but love and fun and chill coming from him and I can’t get enough of it. He is the only ‘planned’ one of the group, and because it was an actual conversation to try and create him, because I wanted him and loved him before he was even conceived, the special place in my heart for him is solid and whole and filled with a love I can’t describe.

The younger one, she is my princess. She is my favorite because she is my last; an unexpected, wonderful surprise. And because she is my girl. She is the last baby we will have and from her I’ve learned to slow down, embrace the moments and enjoy day to day life. I get to learn and explore our world through toddler eyes again. This time, with the perspective of a mom with kids getting ready to spread their wings, I get it. I get that, even though this particular phase she is in sucks, even though I sometimes struggle to find the joy in parenting when I can’t get her to actually pee in the toilet, I get that I need to stop and take a deep breath and belly laugh with her. Twirl around the kitchen. Dance to the music. Don’t sweat the small stuff. She teaches me to find the happy and the positive at my most frustrated moments.

I love each of my kids with equal passion and fervor, but I also love them each very differently. I embrace their personalities and I love them for who they are, and I love them for the good and the positive that they bring out in me. They have taught me that you can passionately and wholeheartedly love more than one person unconditionally, that you can learn and be inspired by your kids. They are each my favorite child and sometimes that thought makes me so proud I could burst because I have created people that I truly enjoy being around; I am proud of them and they have given me the strength to be proud of me too.

My First Job

Today, the two year old has been much better behaved and allowing me to get some actual writing done. So in lieu of a life update, I am giving another writing prompt a try. Let me know what you think.

My first foray into the working world pretty much rocked. It wasn’t so much the job – though working at a movie theater totally had its perks – it was the people I worked with.

In high school, I never really fit in. I never felt I had that ‘best friend’ experience, or a place where I felt comfortable and liked for who I was. I never felt my true personality come out; I spent too much time trying to impress people who were totally not interested in being impressed by me.

Then, at the movies, I met the “archgeeks” (check it, we even have a facebook group). These were my people. A little geeky, a little theatrical, a lot of freakin fun, and most importantly, they liked me. They really liked me! Working at the movies, I made my best friends, had my most teenage experiences.


Playing freezetag in the back of one of the theaters.
As people clocked out for the evening they would come join in the geeky fun.


I had my first boyfriend – a pastry chef who made me the most amazing lemon meringue pie I’ve ever tasted (even still!). I fell in love with my best guy friend and broke the heart of the aforementioned boyfriend (teenage girls are mean, but I found him on myspace a few years ago and totally apologized). I had my first Rocky Horror experience. I rode on the back of motorcycles for the first time with some really hot boys (I still have a love for them – the bikes, I mean). We partied together, we played together. We had some serious fun.

It was such an amazing time in all our lives that one of my friends, the writer in the group, published a book about it. It pretty much rocks to have my teenage experiences memorialized in print. From an actual publisher!! Go Wade!!

Twenty some years later, it’s fun to catch up with these people who really brought out my personality - my flirty, slightly obnoxious, crazy personality - and taught me that being me was a good thing. It’s fun to randomly find them on facebook chat and spend an hour rehashing the “if only’s” and the “I can’t believe I never knew that” sort of things. It’s fun to get together and reminisce, to bring them into my adult life, to step into theirs, and create new memories with those who were such an important part of my teens.

I look back on these days with so much love and fondness. When I think of high school and my teenage years, I don’t flash immediately back to my alma matter, I go first to my days at the movies, to my closest friends. I wonder where some of them are now, wish we could reunite for one amazingly fun evening; I hope they are all happy. Mostly I’m thankful that I knew them, that they made an impressionable part of my life so much fun, that they helped me find the confidence to be (and to like) me.



It's since been demolished and replaced by a Kohl's. Sad.



A memorable sleeper

When my son was around 12 months old, he used to wake up screaming. Not in an “I’m having a nightmare” sort of way, but in a “someone is trying to kill me and it hurts really bad” sort of way. We had no idea what was happening to him.

The first time it happened it was terrifying. We couldn’t wake him up. Half of his face was frozen into a frown, while the other half was that screaming red crying face. He was stiff as a board and immovable when I picked him up. It was heartbreaking and we didn’t know what to do. We called 911, but by the time the EMT’s got there to check him out, he was sleeping happily and everything was back to normal. We ended up at the local Children’s Hospital, waited for several hours (it was a busy night) and about 3 in the morning, after watching him sleep happily the whole time we were there, decided to just go home and keep an eye on him.

The second time it happened, we called our regular doctors after hours line. When the screaming and terror eventually subsided, he again went back to a normal sleep. We went to the doctor the next day to have him looked at, but again, everything was fine. She didn’t really have any suggestions as to the problem, but told us to keep her posted.

I started doing research, but didn’t really know what I was looking for. I was hoping it would just go away, but obviously that wasn’t realistic.

It happened a few more times and really had us freaked out. After each incident we'd head to the doctor, but we could never come up with a solution. One night, in an act of desperation, I called the nurses line from the local hospital. The nurse and I started brainstorming together and she said it sounded a lot like night terrors.

Night terrors?

I grabbed my “What to Expect the Toddler Years” book that was on my nightstand and looked it up.

“During a night terror your child seems to be awake, but is in fact asleep. You may see him sweating and breathing fast and even feel his little heart beating at a rapid rate. He's likely to appear scared and confused, even panicked, and may talk, cry, or scream. A night terror usually occurs early in the evening (one to four hours after he's fallen asleep, during very deep or non-REM sleep). Fortunately, your child will not remember any of this the next day (though you surely will!).”

Yes! This was exactly what we were experiencing! This woman, I loved this nurse. She was my saving grace. She solved what my doctor and the EMTs blew off. We finally had a reason. A diagnosis.

In our research we learned that lack of sleep can cause an incident of night terrors. We started tracking it and, sure enough, on days where we had to skip or shorten a nap for one reason or another, the night terrors happened.

After we figured this out, we were very diligent about his nap schedule and ensuring he had x amount of hours sleep every day. We made sure grandparents or anyone else taking care of him were just as diligent. Bed time was not flexible, nor were naps. Thankfully, we never had another incident.

Typically, toddlers outgrow night terrors and there are no lasting repercussions. Even still, nine years later, we pay a little more attention to his sleeping patterns and his behavior during the day. I don’t ever want to see that kind of pain or hear that kind of fear again. But I'll never forget it.