Friday, December 28, 2012

What Kind of Blog Is This, Anyway?

Ever since I hit "publish" on that first introductory post, I've been stewing over what it is that I  really am doing here.

And now I think I know.

As much as I cringe at the title, I think I am a Mommy Blogger.  My kids are aged 21, 20, and 12, so I don't exactly fit the typical Mommy Blogger profile. Any stories I tell of adorable preschool hijinks will be from ancient history.

What I do have, though, is LOTS of experience.  Besides raising these three amazing kids, I did spend the past two decades working in child development.  I've worked with some remarkable people.  Studied with the folks who wrote some of the textbooks.  Found myself in the right place at the right time more than once. Turns out, I have some pretty nifty street cred when it comes to talking about giving our kids the best possible shot at life.  Who knew?

So I've got that going for me.

I also have all these other stories about living that I hinted at in my earlier post.  I did learn many lessons about loss.  I did maneuver my way through complicated health care and mental health care systems on behalf of my own family and for many others. And, yes, guys, I went to Africa!  Guess what? I was a mother the whole time.  Imagine?

So, that's what you can expect from me.  Stories about my family and the families I've worked with over the years.  Stories of bravery and anguish and joy and sheer chutzpah.  More than a few stories that are inappropriate, but really funny.  You know, Mommy Stories.

Peace & Joy!

Wednesday, December 26, 2012

My First Blog Post at The Prodigal Son’s Mother.  January 1, 2013

Hey now!  Welcome to the first day of my scariest New Year’s Revolution*  ever. 

For as long as I can remember, I have been a writer.  I have decades’ worth of journals, reams of short stories, a file folder of partially outlined novels, and a notebook or two of really awful poetry.  I even took a few semesters of writing classes.   Only thing is nobody besides those few exceptionally tolerant writing professors (and that one soul-sucking, nasty one) has ever actually seen anything I’ve ever written.

I have filled my life with really great story-tellers and artists. There more than a few professional writers—authors, poets, communications experts and the like--who consider me their friend.  They are brilliant and talented and awe-inspiring.  They are also annoyingly consistent about pushing me to write for actual readers.  In the past two years, my response to this encouragement has been to basically stop writing altogether.  

These past two years have also been filled with some major life events that have tipped my world upside-down.  I battled—still battle—a chronic illness.  I lost too many people I love—some to illness, some to old age, one to a senseless murder.  For a while there, my social life revolved around hospital visits and funerals.   There's more, but it wasn’t all struggle and sadness.  I also celebrated, BIG:  Birthdays, weddings, holidays, new babies, old friendships, graduations, Ground Hog’s Day, Tuesday.  I even had a wildest dream come true when I got to spend three weeks in Africa last winter.

As 2012 has been winding down, I have decided that I am finally ready to write again.  I’m going to write about those events.   I am going to post those stories here for other folks to read them. Whether I am ready or not.  I’m still not clear why that terrifies me so.  Yet, it does.  Right now, though, I don’t care.  I’m doing it anyway.

Hopefully, you will be amused or inspired or provoked by something I write.  Hopefully, you will keep reading.  Hopefully, you will respond to things I’ve written and we will connect---the writer and the reader.

What revolutions have you made this year?  
Revolutions made or not, peace & joy for a Happy New Year!


*New Year's Revolutions are what my Evil Genius Son assumed they were when he was a preschooler.  Resolve was not nearly as interesting to him as revolution.  Still isn't.  One day this kid is going to rule the world. Don't say I didn't warn you.