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 Working

The other day someone I was once close to told me I knew nothing about working, because I hadn't worked in over four years.

She smiled when she said this, like it was just two friends talking.

Like she wasn't cutting down what I do.

I beg to differ.

My schedule doesn't follow a typical nine to five, Monday through Friday work week. It also doesn't fit into a swing schedule.

I work twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, and slave down many different paths.

Unlike her work history, I don't get vacations, holidays, or time off.

I'm on call all the time.

I also don't do just one thing. I'm not just a waitress. I'm not just a manager. I'm not just an office drone. I'm not just a taxi driver, legal adviser, or psychologist.

I'm that and so much more.

I'm sure by now you're probably assuming I'm speaking of motherhood.

You'd be wrong.

Yes, I'm a stay at home mom, and that too is a full time job. One I'm proud of, and work hard at. It also encompasses everything I just listed, and more.

It's still not what I'm referring to though.

No, I'm a writer.

Every minute of my day I'm at work.

My characters don't sleep, and often times they keep me from sleeping as well.

After all, who needs sleep?

Whenever I meet a person, I'm working.

Whenever I read a book, I'm working.

Whenever I see another tragedy in the news, I'm working.

Everything I write about, I learn.

Each character has their own life, their own problems, and their own knowledge.

Because I create them, and I'm responsible for them, I have all that too.

Writing isn't easy.

It's not a cake walk, and it's not for the weak.

Being told I don't understand the working world, because I haven't been in it in four years is crass and uneducated.

Writing is work, and it's just as much a business as any restaurant, hospital, or office.

The major difference? As a writer I'm responsible for all of it. I don't have someone cutting me a paycheck each week, or notifying the IRS of my income.

I don't come home after a hard day and shut it all off.

I don't get time off for special events, or because it's required.

Imagination doesn't get days off, and neither does commitment or drive.

Here's a tip: If writing isn't working... well, you can put it on your tray, and serve it.



Thoughts?

R.S.

On Today's Happiness

I find that I spend a lot of time thinking about what I want to blog about, and half the time nothing I come up with seems interesting enough.

Today, while I was contemplating a topic, I realized something.

 I'm happy.

 Yes, it's still relatively early to most people, though I've been awake since six--just like everyday when my three year old daughter/personal alarm clock, wakes up, but to me it's well toward 'mid-day'.

I'm feeling good about myself, and with myself (and yes, there is a difference).

 

I have an amazing daughter who even when she's driving me batty, is  still the most amazing person in my life. I've got great friends who love me, even though they're hundreds of miles away; family who loves me--both those who live with me, and those who also live their daily lives in various states across the country.

I'm happy.

I'm happy, because I realized all the choices in my life have led me here.

Right here.

To this day.

To this blog post.

To this city in the middle of the desert that most people have never even heard of, let alone visited.

Every bad decision, painful experience, emotionally dark period, and wonderful highlight, has led me to the person I am today.

A mother, a wife, a writer, a photographer, a friend, and a confidant.

I'm not the world traveler I someday want to be, and I haven't been published...yet, but all of those are on my personal horizon.

If I had a chance to go back and change anything in my past... any of the horrible experiences, the loss of innocence, the dark days after the death of my son, the heartbreak I wasn't sure I'd survive... I wouldn't change it.

Why?

Because I wouldn't be where I am, who I am, or what I am today.

Today wouldn't be... today.

Life is a precious, precious thing. Don't take it for granted, and don't regret the experiences in your past. Always remember who you were, where you came from, and who was there to help you along...

R.S.