On: Being Alive

IT'S ALIVE! Oh, wait. I mean, I'm alive.

Yikes, you know life has changed when you realize you haven't blogged since September. That's a bad thing. I know.

In my defense my well structured life suddenly changed, and I'm still dealing with the aftermath. The Marine, Munchkin, Boy Wonder, and I no longer live in the land of sand and rocks. We're back in the PNW. The gray and rainy state of one of my favorite authors, Christina Dodd. Needless to say, it's been an adjustment. Though, thankfully, the weather has been mild and less rainy than it usually is. It's been easier to acclimate from constant sun when most days recently have at least had a glimmer of sunshine.

We survived the drive from California, and even survived the moving company misplacing our household goods for a week. Now we're in our new home. We're not settled, but that has a lot to do with my own OCD tendencies when it comes to organization.

I'm choosing to view this move as a good thing. I'm focusing on all the positives and all the new possibilities that are waiting ahead. I can't wait to be settled in so my little family and I can start living again.

How have things been with you, dear readers?

R.S.

On: Saying Goodbye

On Tuesday one of my closest friends checked into a new duty station. The Marines did this to prep him for his upcoming year long deployment to the Middle East. You would think, being married to the Marine, I would be used to this, but honestly, you never get used to it.

I've known my friend, the Captain, for a long time. Almost as long as I've been with the Marine. Our friendship has withstood living on different coasts and in different countries. In fact the last four months have been the only time, aside from when we first met, that we've even been in the same state.

It's funny how you can start relying on a person in a different way when they live down the street from you, and not a world away. His moving away, while not any different than the previous years of friendship, is harder this time. He won't be joining the Marine and I for late night Wii games, where we find out we're only smarter than a fifth grader when we work together. He won't be around for the Munchkin to chase and make funny faces at. In fact, not too long from now, he won't be just a text message away.

That's okay though, he's doing what he's supposed to do. What's he's meant to do, and I couldn't be more proud of him. This is who he is, and I wouldn't change that for anything.

Doesn't mean saying goodbye was easy, or that I won't miss him. I always will, because that's what being a friend often entails.

Have you ever had to say goodbye to a friend? I'd love to know your story.

R.S.

On: Class, Working Out, and Plotting

Once again, it's been a while since I posted. Over the past four weeks I've spent far too much time analyzing terrorist activity, studying Al Capone, and realizing that I'll never be a criminal analyst. I'll save that for people who can focus on one thing for longer than the time it takes to eat a cookie.

During that time if anyone had peeked in my windows they would have seen a person living in workout clothes, a messy ponytail, and most likely spots of burp-up on me. I would likely have been sitting on the couch, lap top beside me, Boy Wonder in my lap, feeding him and studying. I might even have been actually typing with one hand.

I wasn't sure I was going to survive, let alone finish the class. It was a close one. Especially when everything was do by one minute to midnight yesterday, and I still had a final counter-terrorism scenario to create as well as a twenty question short answer exam to do.

Luckily, I made it, and I couldn't be happier.

During the crazy last couple of weeks, my only 'relaxation' or 'me time' I took, was the twenty-five minutes a day it took to complete T-25 (and sometimes a shower--don't judge). It helped keep my sanity. I'm seven weeks down with only three more weeks left of the program. I'm not ashamed to admit, I'll miss it when I'm done, but I can always go back. I've also started Shaun T's Hip Hop Abs program (and no, I really don't think I'll ever be able to move like they do. Good thing I keep the curtains closed when I workout.) it's a lot of fun, and will help me reach my post-baby body goals.

I've also spent my quality shower time plotting. I refused to allow terrorist or Al into the shower with me. Instead I've been focusing on the books of essays I've been plotting. I've got some of them done, but I have a feeling they're going to take a different turn than I first imagined, and that's okay.

I hope this Labor Day has found you safe and happy. Best wishes,

R.S.

On: What I've Been Reading

Since I've been spending a lot of time on the couch, feeding Boy Wonder, and snuggling with him, I've run out of episodes of CSI: NY to watch on Netflix. I pulled out my trusty Kindle the other day and started catching up on my digital TBR pile.

Let's be honest.

I'll never catch up on my TBR pile, digital or otherwise. Why? Because I keep adding new books to it. In the last week I've read five Lori Foster books, a Brenda Novak book, and recently started reading (in paperback) the Chicken Soup for the Soul: Parenthood book.

It's true, it has made me cry more times than it has made me laugh, but I can't help but keep reading it.

What have you been reading? Inquiring minds want to know.


R.S.

On Recreating Myself. Again.

It's been almost two months since Boy Wonder was born, and during that time I've enjoyed the snuggles, grins, and warmth that comes from his little body while he sleeps in my arms. I've enjoyed watching him grow and change, and seeing the expressions on his face as he becomes more aware of the world around him.

 What I haven't enjoyed is feeling like I've lost myself somewhere. I'm not the same person I was when the Munchkin was born. At that time, my life was completely different than it is now. I hadn't started school yet (that happened when she was three months old), and I wasn't actively writing, blogging, or doing anything particularly crafty or time consuming.

 My world revolved around my daughter and keeping the house clean. Occasionally we would run errands or go hangout at a friend's house, but mostly we would spend time snuggled on the couch, or playing on the floor. No matter what it was, I wasn't stressed out. I didn't worry about some huge thing looming over my head, and because of this, I felt like I had the parenting thing down.

Things aren't quite so simple anymore. Even though I realize a lot of the issues I'm having currently, are of my own making, I seem helpless to walk away from them. I've got the self-imposed deadlines looming over me. Things that really aren't set in stone, that I feel like I'm falling behind on. It makes no sense, while at the same time making too much sense.

I've got homework for a class I can't drop, and I know that no matter what I'll make it through it, but still I stress about every second of the day. There are other things that could go by the wayside, and not doing them won't matter a bit in a day, a week, or a year, but they hang over me like a dark cloud. I just want to enjoy the time I have with my son before he grows up and these days are gone.

I need to find peace with myself.

 I've been told that each child changes you, that with each new life you create, they recreate you into a different (and hopefully) better version of yourself. I firmly believe this. The person I became after the birth of the Munchkin was one I was proud of. I know, given time and patience, the person my son will create out of the stressed out ashes of my previous self, will be awesome.

Until then, I need to focus on what is really important. Spending time with my children. Taking a few moments to put away what I've incorrectly decided was important, for what is truly important. Whether that is reading a book with the Munchkin or dancing around the living room with her; feeding Boy Wonder (who seems to be a bottomless pit just like the Marine), or comforting him while he screams in my ear and shakes his little fists angrily.

The creating of art for myself and to sell, can take a backseat until a time when my children need me just a little less. The writing of the hundreds of books running through my head, can wait until Boy Wonder doesn't need to eat every two hours, and the Munchkin doesn't want to show me what new dance step she just created when she was supposed to be brushing her teeth.

It's time to sit back and let the re-creating begin, without the fight I've been giving it, because in my heart I know it's time for that change, I'm just having a hard time letting go of the old me for an uncertain future with a new me.

Have you ever had experiences like this? I really would love to know your stories.

R.S.

On: CSI NY

I've spent the last couple of days snuggled on the couch with Boy Wonder, working on posts for my various blogs, and watching CSI:NY on Netflix.

First it was Miami, now it's NY. I'm addicted.

Maybe there's a twelve step program I should look into.

A couple years ago I actually met Gary Senise when he and the Lt. Dan Band came to our base for a concert. He's actually a really nice guy who came off as being very quiet. After posing for the typical fan photo, he asked me to thank The Marine for his service to the country.

What are your favorite shows?

The Finish Line: Boy Wonder Arrives

It was a typical sunny day in the desert, and the weather man promised excessive heat for the next four days. I was thirty-eight weeks pregnant, and like every other day of the past nine months my stomach dictated what I wanted to eat. That’s what brought me to the base’s Starbucks at 1107. Before I’d reached the door I could taste the delicious brownie I had my heart set on.

Then my water broke.

In front of six Marines who barely looked old enough to shave.

If things happened the way Hollywood portrayed them, those Marines would have had a story to tell their buddies when they got back to work. Luckily for me, when my water broke, nature took its course and the water was more of a trickle than a gush.

Knowing what was important, I still got my brownie.

The drive to the hospital took six minutes--an eternity when every bump and stop caused a fresh gush of fluid to escape. When my sister and I secured a coveted ‘expectant mother’ parking spot we hustled, or in my case, waddled with a sense of urgency, to the labor and delivery floor.

Labor and delivery at the base hospital is a lot like any other place in the military. A lot of hurry up and wait. Once I was secured into a room and strapped into an uncomfortable bed with monitors and IVs, the real fun started. 

By fun, I mean the lying around waiting for the contractions to actually start doing something.

Five hours after I arrived, the doctor pushed Pitocin into my IV, in an attempt to move my labor along. Every hour a nurse came in and upped the amount of the drug dripping into my body, and every hour was the same. A lot of waiting without change. 

It wasn’t until nine hours and half a season of Veronica Mars later, something finally happened. My contractions stopped playing nice and sent a pain through my body so intense the world went black. It felt like something had broken. The Marine later told me it was probably his wrist cracking when I put him in a wrist lock.

I rode the pain of each contraction, silently for the next hour. Veronica Mars was still playing on the television, but I couldn’t focus on what was happening. I no longer cared whether she was with Logan or some other guy. With each contraction, the pain escalated. By the time I was ready to give up on the idea of a pain medication free birth, the doctor informed me I was too far along. My son would arrive within the next two hours.

For those of you who have never experienced child birth, two hours is an interminable amount of time. It might as well be nine months. I didn’t want to contemplate another two hours of my insides being torn apart by Edward Scissorhands or my own personal torturer--Freddy from Nightmare on Elm Street.  

As it turns out, Boy Wonder wasn’t interested in hanging out that long either.

 Thirty minutes later I demanded, to the room at large, to get the doctor, because the baby was coming. I’m not sure who went for the doctor, or hit the call button, because at that moment I was hoping to go numb from the waist down. Blacking out would have been okay too.

Within moments the room was packed like a frat house on a Friday night after finals. Aside from my three person morale team that included the Marine, my sister, and my dear friend (and work husband), Corpsman K, there was a fleet of medical personnel: A doctor, a nurse, and three Navy Corpsmen. The perfect beginning to a joke.

It was a regular party, and I was the girl on the table.

I pushed for thirty minutes, and during that time I realized some very important things.

 I’m stronger than I gave myself credit for.

 It is possible to silence an entire delivery room with a single look directed at Corpsman K when he made a comment about his arms being sore from fanning me off with a clipboard.

The song Ring of Fire has a whole new meaning to me now.

At 2215 on June 6, 2013 Boy Wonder came into the world. Six hours shy of nine years to the day his brother was born an angel. On the anniversary of D-Day. To the sound of Taps playing across the base.

For the third time in my life, I experienced love at first sight.  

On: The Final Stretch

I've become the worst type of writer and blogger. You know the type. The one who hasn't bothered blogging. To be honest, until a few moments ago I didn't realize it had been quite so long. The days are all blending together.

That might have something to do with the day to day life of a pregnant woman. There just aren't enough hours in the day, enough energy in the body, or enough motivation to keep up with anything more than the basics of living.

There is a light at the end of the tunnel though! I'm nearly there. Boy Wonder is due June 10th, but there is just as much chance he'll be born earlier, because he's showing signs of being more than ready to make his appearance. After spending a delightful day hooked up to monitors in Labor and Delivery last week, the doctor told me she'd be surprised if he didn't come much sooner. It really all depends on him.

Now, I haven't been completely away from the writing bug. I have been working on a new project. Different from my usual writings, but hopefully just as good. If only I could find the motivation to work on it more. Even my motivation to do all the crafty things I've been doing in preparation for my son's arrival, have waned. Luckily, this happened after I finished the diaper bag, the changing pad, the burp cloths, the blankets, and the car seat wrap.

Everything is ready. I'm just waiting on him.

How have you all been?

R.S.

On: Days Off

Today, the Munchkin has off from school. Something about it being a teacher day. I don't really know. I do know, that she seems to have these free days every month.

Maybe it's just me, but I never had this many days off from school growing up.
So, instead of staying home today with her climbing off the walls, we are making a trip to Palm Springs to pick up things for the Belly Munchkin's arrival.

I've decided this time around two things: 1) Children don't need as much as a new mother might think, and 2) I'm making as much of the stuff that is needed, by hand. Since I'm teaching myself to sew, this is both fun and a challenge.

What do you do on days when your children have off from school?

R.S.

On: Reading

I'm usually an incredibly fast reader, but recently I haven't been able to concentrate long enough to actually start a book, let alone finish one.  This is depressing to me.

I love reading, but my brain keeps bouncing from thought to thought. Maybe I need to find something new to read.

I enjoy romantic suspense and murder. Any suggestions on awesome books to read?

R.S.

On: Friday Tidbits

Life is moving along in my world. I haven't sat down to write recently, not something that a writer should admit.

I've been splitting my focus between school, Munchkin, and an uncontrollable need to create things with my hands.

Crocheted baby blankets, hats, scarves.

Plus, I've recently become the proud owner of a sewing machine, so I'm slowly learning the ropes on that.

I keep telling myself to sit and write, but it hasn't worked. I feel like I've got the attention span of a gnat on crack.

Soon, right?

What about you?

R.S.

On: Baby News

So, the Marine and I found out we are going to be the proud parents of a baby boy come June. The Munchkin is excited to welcome her brother, and is looking forward to being a big sister.

Now to just get through the next few months.

What things are you looking forward to in the coming months?

R.S.

On: Jimmy's World

* This was meant to go out at 0600 Friday, but some how I forgot to actually publish it. I blame pregnancy brain.

I don't know if many of you ever read the article "Jimmy's World", in the Washington Post on September 28, 1980. It won a Pulitzer Prize, that was later returned when the truth of the article came to light. Click here for the article.

Maybe it’s because I write fiction myself that the first half of the article actually sounded like the beginning of a story, not of an article in a well respected newspaper. The details were too flowery for me to not question the legitimacy of it. I’m not saying journalist don’t have a way with words, but there tends to be a more clinical feel to every article I’ve ever read. 

Whereas, a lot of people wouldn’t believe it, because the thought of a child being shot up by an adult, and none of the adults doing anything about it, seems too horrible and farfetched, that isn’t what rings false for me. Granted, that could be, because I’ve seen the track marks first hand on a child who was much younger than eight (the daughter of a neighbor who, thanks to police intervention no longer has access to the poor child). This world is a horrible and terrifying place a lot of the time.

Which does bring me to another thing I found questionable, and had I not already suspected the article of being a mostly well done work of fiction, would have made me (especially if I was an editor) wonder about the authenticity of the article. Where was the police intervention? Where was the school or CPS? I realize in the 80’s things weren’t like they are now, but even then, as a child in San Diego, I remember my teacher showing up on my doorstep with my homework when I missed more than one day of class.  

What are you thoughts and insights into this article? I'd love to know. 

R.S.

On: Soup On A Cold Desert Night

I know, it isn't much of a picture, but what can be expected from a cell phone. ;)

It's been a bit chilly here in the desert, so I thought I'd try out my new crockpot. The old one died a few weeks ago while I was making beef stew. That was a sad day.

Anyway, I grabbed the leftover turkey from Christmas, some carrots, mushrooms, onion and celery, and tossed it into the pot along with a can of of chicken broth and a can of cream of mushroom chicken soup. Did I mention the 'splash' of wine? ;)

Anyway after eight hours it was divine, and we'll have leftovers again tomorrow.

What is your favorite soup on a day like this?

R.S.

On Thanksgiving

Have a wonderful and happy Turkey Day. Full of friends, family, and endless amounts of food.

R.S.

On My Weekend

On Saturday the Marine and I attended Lexa's memorial. It was both heartbreaking and healing, but I guess that is the point, right?

So many people came out to say good-bye to the young girl who'd made their lives better. Outside on the green lawn that was scattered with leaves, people told their stories. Doves were released, and people laughed when the doves decided to do their own thing--something we're sure Lexa was responsible for.

I won't lie and say I'm healed from the pain, but I'm not as angry as I was. The sadness isn't taking up as much of my soul as it did in the beginning. Lexa never wanted people to be sad. She believed in happiness and living. Following dreams and attaining goals.

It's time for me to get back to that.

And I've started.

Sunday we joined some friends at the Olive Garden to celebrate Veteran's Day. It was nice to get out, eat delicious food, and laugh. People who know me well, realize if I don't get out of the house once in a while, I'll fall into a pattern of living, much like a hermit.

I like being a hermit. Things get done when I stay home.

Usually.

Okay, not much has gotten done since I started staying home after working at the pool. I've been taking it easy. Spending time with my family, helping the Munchkin with homework, and catching up on all the hours of snuggling I missed out on.

Housework can wait.

How did you celebrate Veteran's Day? Did you thank a Veteran for his or her sacrifices?

R.S.

On Remembering 9/11/01

Everyone seems to remember where they were and what they were doing when the planes crashed into the towers. I know where I was (at home) and what I was doing (sleeping).

Every year we focus on the fateful day, on the people who were sacrificed, and who have sacrificed everything since then.

It was our darkest day, and now we strive for the light.

Being close to the military brings an added layer to the memories. All day today I was surrounded by the men and women who have fought on the front lines. The men and women who proudly sacrifice not only their personal lives and their time, but are willing to make the ultimate sacrifice so the rest of us don't have to--in the hopes we never again experience such tragedy.

I wasn't in New York, Pennsylvania, or D.C. that day, and I don't personally know anyone who was, but here is a link to a blog from Meg Cabot, the best selling author of the Princess Diaries, and a person who was there when it happened. It's a touching and emotional story that should be read and shared every year.

Today isn't completely about the past. It's about the present and the future. Each of those 3000+ people who lost their lives on 9/11/01 had dreams. Dreams that will never come true. We have that chance--the chance to make our dreams come true.

The question is, what are you going to dream?

R.S.

On Kindergarten is Tough.

On Monday, the Munchkin started Kindergarten.

I had no problem when she went to Preschool, and didn't even have much of a problem with the idea of dropping her off at the public school for her first day of Kindergarten.

Then the first day came.

The public school is nothing like her private preschool, and I suddenly want to rob a bank to afford to send her back to private school.

The level of connection is non-existent at her public school, the teacher is standoffish and gruff (not to mention NOTHING like the teachers I had in elementary school).

 I have fond memories of the first six years of school. What if the Munchkin doesn't?

The upside, after a questionable start to the week, the Munchkin seems to be adjusting to her new daily schedule.

And passing out everyday when she comes home.

Kindergarten is Tough!

R.S.

What are your experiences with sending your little ones to school? Private or Public?

On Getting Back in the Saddle

Since my decision to apply, train for, and become a lifeguard in early June, my life has not been my own. In fact, I barely recognize myself.

I'm TAN!

This is a huge deal, since I've never--not once--in my entire life, tanned. In fact, Casper had more pigmentation than I did.

Now, I'm a pretty caramel color that glistens nicely in the sun.

I'm also really toned, and find all of my pants are too big. It's getting hard to find pants to fit too. A huge personal goal has been reached here!

However, no matter how great those things are, what isn't as great--the real thing that causes me pause--is how little I've done in my chosen profession.

My profession isn't being a lifeguard. That's just something I chose to do for shits and giggles.

I'm a writer, and I'm an artist.

In the last two months, I've lost that. I've spent hardly any time doing what I actually NEED to do to be happy, or successful. During this time, my new novel, Murphy's Law came out, and I barely blinked. I sure haven't done the type of pimping I should have.

So, now that my body has forced me to take a break and slow down, it's time to get back in the saddle. It's time to remember that lifeguarding is just a small step in my life, not a permanent fixture. It's time R.S. Emeline got back to the basics.

With that in mind, have you purchased your copy of Murphy's Law yet? Go...go forth and read!

You know you want to read me! 

On Changing My Name to Grace...

Last Monday, while swimming my daily thousand meters, I got what felt like a cramp in the arch of my right foot. It wasn't a bad enough cramp to keep me from swimming, so I continued on--finishing the last six hundred meters.

That night I went to pick my sister up at the airport, and while driving home I realized my foot hurt, but didn't connect it to the pain from earlier (I'm just focused like that).

 In fact, I didn't think anything of the lingering pain until Wednesday, when after spending two days on my feet, moving large poolside equipment, I found I couldn't walk.

Turns out, I'm so graceful, I managed to get a stress fracture in my foot--without doing anything.

Usually, I'm obviously graceful. Doing things like, dropping an aqua-treadmill on my toe--on dry land, running over that same toe with a heavy guard stand, and separating that toe nail from the bed of my big toe with a rolling pool cart.

It's official, I'm changing my name to Grace.

On the upside?

The required downtime given to me by the doctor and being enforced by my employer, may give me time to get some real (AKA, writing) work done.

What are some of your graceful moments?

R.S.