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Showing posts with label moms. Show all posts
Showing posts with label moms. Show all posts

Monday, May 13, 2019

Every Day Should Be Mother's Day


I know it's the day after, but I think we all need to pay more attention to the women in our lives.

When I first started writing, I wrote a romcom with four kids at home. They inspired me. I put four kids in a book and someone said, "You can't put kids in romantic comedy." I laughed because I'd just sold a book with five kids. So many of my stories have mothers and their kids. All the how-to-write books say write what you know. I have four kids so...well, let's just say I've got kids in many, many of my books!

But I also write powerful moms in their stories. I've been lucky to have so many strong women in my life. My daughters, my mother, my mother-in-law, my grandmother, my friends and my readers. They've shared so much with me—from fortitude, to resilience, to unconditional love. They've allowed me to be a part of their stories, and they've shared their stories that came before me. Stories of their lives—some where happy, some not so much, but all of those stories taught me—are teaching me—who I want to be.  These amazing women were mothers, grandmothers, friends, Rosie Riveters, secretaries, teachers, nurses, pharmacists, cooks and comics...  

I know how lucky I am to have my live to have lived a life with so many amazing women populating it.  They're each why I love writing moms, grandmas and strong women!

If you're a mom, I hope you had a wonderful day (if you're not a momI hope you had a wonderful one, too)! And if you're looking for a new story (whether or not your a mother), I have a few Mom books for you!

Thanks, as always, for letting me a part of your stories!

Holly

Saturday, February 04, 2017

Nicole Locke: Are You Settled Yet?


Are you settled yet?

I can’t say how many times I’ve been asked this question since arriving in the US on the 17th of December. I'm sure people are simply being friendly and making idle chat. I'm sure they don't truly mean it.

Do they mean it!?  Because that sentence is equivalent to asking a new mother if she’s sleeping through the night. Isn’t it just assumed she isn’t sleeping through the night?

There is no way I am settled. What does that even mean? That I have a routine, that I’ve formed habits?

Because I don’t…I haven’t. I’m sleeping, I’m not. The kids are getting to school on time…they’re not. I don’t even leave my bedroom the same way yet.  I can go straight or turn right to get to the kitchen. Which way should I go? Which is faster, convenient, more scenic?

Does being settled mean my house is furnished because let me share some pictures with you. One is of the living room, and the other of my daughter's room.

These pictures are of the house right now. This is after copious amounts of shopping. Way more shopping than I ever care to do. Going to any store once a month is too much for me. Now I have to go food shopping two times a week, plus the hardware store, and the paint store. Don’t get me started on the online purchases. This is…this is death by shopping for me. And what do I have to show for it? Three mattresses, some bed frames, and a few rugs. Oh, I may have bought some bath towels, too.

But that’s all that people are going to see when they come in. They’re not going to see that I had to change my daughter’s rug three times only to realize none of them worked, so her floor is still bare. That her bed frame came, but the feet were all broken and I've been waiting weeks for replacements.
People aren’t going to come into my house and say: 'Nice paperclips and envelopes!' Or: 'Wow, you really agonized over that toothpaste brand didn’t you?'

Because I did. Absolutely. And that’s a story I’ll share another day when my shudders have lessened, and the store clerks aren’t alarmed anymore by the mumbling.

Quite simply, I can’t seem to have a routine if there’s nothing to routine with. My house is bare.

The horror of it is, you don’t know what you need until you don’t have it. Get out of the bath? Need a bath mat. Want to make fried rice? Buy every ingredient except… soy sauce. Have something stuck in your teeth? Well…you get the picture.

We left some things here in our old home, and are now using our new things, but this doesn’t help at all. There are no habits here. This isn’t the same spoon I’ve been using every day for a decade. I’m not turning on the same hob I’ve used for the last eleven years.

And how am I dealing with the fact I seem to have nothing and yet I’m shopping all the time? Not very well.  In fact, I resent it, am frustrated at it. Just want to set fire and start again. Except, I am starting again and have to buy a laundry basket. 

Does being settled mean what I fear it means. That I feel at home?  Because I don’t. Not at all. Not…yet. But I know something is beginning to happen. I found everyday cheese the family likes. And I think for now, that’ll have to be enough.

In the meantime, I'll keep battling and reporting from the trenches of moving house. Has anyone else moved home? Would love to know how you survived!

-- Nicole :-)

To find out more about Nicole Locke, visit her website, and follow her on Twitter.


The fourth book in the Lovers and Legends series, In Debt to the Enemy Lord, is out now! 




Chapter 1, excerpt
 



























 








Saturday, September 20, 2014

That's Life by Jenny Gardiner

We recently ran into friends whose daughter is now working a "real job" in Manhattan. They mentioned how tough it was for her to leave summer vacation and return to the grind — made all the harder because they never worked conventional 9-5 jobs while raising her, thus didn't model the way most of the country works. This is the same for our family: my husband runs his own business, which has given him the wonderful flexibility to devote extra time to family when needed, while also being able to earn enough to support us all. This thankfully afforded me the chance to stay home with our children, and eventually write.

We wondered how growing up in a world where work hours were more malleable and in which it was rare to see anyone wearing business attire might affect our kids' career choices. When I was a kid, men (and it was usually men back then) often remained with one company for their entire careers. I would struggle to have faith nowadays in a company being there for you the way they once were. I've seen far too many people blindsided by their company's laying them off with no advance notice, or worse still, left with no pension despite promises to the contrary.

There's something to be said for going it on your own if you can, and I think that appeals more and more to this generation of young adults who are weary of the conventional (and these days, lackluster) job market. Even more intriguing is the concept of eschewing the expected route, and making your way by hook or crook.

My daughter spent the past two months backpacking in Australia, and now hopes to move there: all it took was holding a koala bear to seal the deal. ("You had me at koala," as Jerry Maguire might say.) She said it was "the Bonnaroo of countries", referring to the famed music festival, at which people actively practice kindness. Her plan is to return as soon as her bank account will allow. I guess even glorious Central Virginia can't compete with a big-hearted country populated with adorable creatures with intoxicating menthol breath (eating nothing but eucalyptus will do that to you).

I struggle with the idea of "losing" my daughter to a land so far away, particularly when she was poised to enter the work force armed with enviable skills and potential. But I'd rather she be happy 10,000 miles from here waiting tables than be chained to a job that sucks the soul from her. To be young and commitment-free and able to carve your way in an unconventional way is enviable, and certainly brazen.

As Kendall traveled through Australia, I couldn't help but appreciate why she wanted to stay. Never have I seen such beautiful countryside as in her photographs. Plus, where else could you find unique animals carrying such cute babies in their pockets? And the Aussie accent? That alone is enough to keep you there. I'd have to take a pass on the Vegemite, though.

An American writer friend married to an Australian couldn't resist driving home the point on the glories of Oz, saying it was truly the best place to live for overall lifestyle. He said it's an egalitarian country with extremely friendly people, living wages, no guns, (no guns!), fantastic food, a month off annually for starting employees, six off (paid!) if you're with a company for a decade, and free medical care. He summed Aussie life up this way: sailing, drinking, surfing, cafes, drinking, and dodging sharks. Sounds like Shangri-La to me (minus the sharks).
It's like the anti-U.S., where there's a culture of some perverse pride in working non-stop till you drop dead. Or where a frightening majority of the population can't even afford to take vacation. And a frightening minority wield the Oz-banned guns like a badge of unearned entitlement. Yep, I can see the appeal to Australia. Besides, what a salve to the insane American academic arms race she just spent her childhood navigating. Who could blame her? Especially as she sees friends taking jobs in which they are so miserable they go home and cry at night.
I read an article recently about a Swedish study on "collective restoration", the idea that if everyone took vacation at the same time we'd all be happier and healthier. It referred to a woman who heads up a university's work/life balance center, who herself refused vacations for ten years. What at work is so important that you can't give yourself the gift of a little getaway?

I'd heard of young graduates being lured by consulting and Wall Street firms with huge vacation packages. Yet those "in the know" say such packages are really just a test: employees who actually use the vacation time would pay for it by not being promoted. I asked my brother, a high-level muckity-muck of lord knows what at some consulting firm, if this was true.

"I'm the wrong one to ask," he said from his office on a Sunday. "I worked on Christmas day. I hardly ever take vacation."

Meaning: you want to get ahead, don't take care of yourself. Be a cog in the wheel and turn and grind and don't poop out. There's a term for it: the work martyr complex. Granted, this was coined by the US Travel Association, in an attempt to encourage more travel, less work. But it is indeed a condition plaguing too many in our country. Of course the irony is the ones who need vacation most, those working two and three minimum wage jobs just to get by, well, they aren't going to get vacation any time soon, sadly.

I heard Daimler has instituted an email-free vacation rule: life will go on at Daimler while employees decompress and restore themselves. What a novel idea whose time has come.

As a mom, I'll hate to have my daughter about as far away as possible from me, especially knowing there's a good chance she'll end up settling there. But I'll also take solace that she's chosen a place that speaks to her soul, where she's likely to find a healthy life balance. And what parent wouldn't be happy to see her child have the wisdom to follow that bliss?

Jenny Gardiner will be saving her pennies to visit her girl some day Down Unduh. Find her at www.jennygardiner.net
Accidentally on Purpose (written as Erin Delany)
Compromising Positions (written as Erin Delany)
find me on Facebook: fan page
find me on twitter here
find me on my website

Wednesday, February 20, 2013

When the Parent Becomes the Student by Jenny Gardiner

I find that as a parent it’s easy to get caught up in being the teacher. While raising children for such an extended period of time, we have long been the ones in charge, the ones to impart lessons learned from our own hard-fought experiences (lessons our kids usually want nothing to do with learning). Moms and dads become habituated into being right, which isn't actually the best of habits, when it comes down to it.

But now that my kids are grown, more and more I'm finding that they've become the teachers, and I their student (sometimes willing, sometimes not so much). It's an interesting twist on the relationship but in many ways things seem to come full circle, which is nice role reversal.

Take for instance my son, who watched his peers signing on for big bucks jobs during the end of his senior year of college, and opted against that himself. Back when I was in college, that was pretty much what you did. (Well, except for those of us with degrees in Liberal Arts, who watched all of our peers making gobs of cash while we practically lived in cardboard boxes beneath bridge spans and begged for our supper). But nowadays I think our kids are learning that there's more to being happy than making lots of money. You're likely to be far more content when following your passion than filling your wallet.

My son did just that, instead choosing to travel for a while after working hard in college. And in so doing, was able to grow so much as a human being, immerse himself in vastly different cultures, learn a new language, and find inner peace under fairy Spartan living conditions. He reveled in being able to go with the flow, to be happy in the moment, and really grew to understand the importance of hard work. Such essential lessons to learn at such a young age, and I envy him that he was able to do that before becoming entrenched in the have-to's of life.

But not only did he do that, he also did it with a great level of fearlessness. So much of what holds us back in life is our fears: we need to arm our teachers for fear of random shooters, we practically strip naked (and remove our shoes) for fear of terrorists on planes, we need to live a life of fear in order to have a false sense of security. It's really a rather twisted way of living, when you think of it. At the end of the day, none of us has much control over our lives, and to spend so much of our waking hours trying to control things so that they don't go badly can end up being very self-defeating. You lose the true zest for life that way.

And speaking of fears, my older daughter teaches me often how important it is to not let worries win the day. Despite overwhelming fear of the unknown in going off to live in another country for a semester, she sucked it up and did it. And then proceeded to jump out of an airplane over the Swiss Alps, travel alone, staying in sketchy hostels at times, and even camp in the Sahara desert in Morocco despite not speaking a word of the language, which made travel there challenging. She shunned her anxieties and allowed herself the gift of going off to quite literally explore the world. It's not an easy thing to do; it's far simpler to be paralyzed with fear, which is what so many people opt for.

In addition, she has taught me so much about facing down adversity. In dealing with various medical problems over which she had no control, she has powered through hard times and kept a brave face going. It's more than many adults could do.

My younger daughter has shown me what strength and determination and hard work will get you. She worked hard enough to gain admission to an Ivy League school, no small feat. But then she had the maturity to decide the massive debt accrued by enrolling in such a school made little sense, and instead knew she would be perfectly happy at a highly-respected but more affordable school.

And she regularly proves to me that if you keep chipping away at a problem, a solution will be found. She has shown me time and again that if you fight through it, you will succeed.

Unfortunately, sometimes reflected off my children are my own vast shortcomings -- those things I desperately need to improve upon. It's my kids who will call me to task for being intolerant or critical or shrill. They're the ones who will remind me to not be impatient, or nosy, or annoying. And they'll gladly wince while telling me my jokes are painfully bad. They're sometimes too quick to find my faults but that's okay, because it's honest. I may not like what I see in the mirror they're holding up to me, but what better way to know what to prove upon? I don't know, maybe I'm just inherently quite flawed and they're wise to it. But I'd like to think this is just how the world works, and I'm at the tipping point now. It's their turn to get even, in a good way.

I've spent more than 20 years imparting my dubious wisdom on my kids, but it's abundantly clear they have much more to teach me: to follow your dreams, to do what makes you happy and happiness will follow, to struggle through adversity, to prove them all wrong.

I have become the Grasshopper to their Master Po (Forgive my bad Kung Fu reference), and I'm honored to be learning at their feet now.

Jenny Gardiner is mulling whether she has the courage to skydive too. Until then, you can find her at www.jennygardiner.net


Sleeping with Ward Cleaver





Slim to None










Winging It: A Memoir of Caring for a Vengeful Parrot Who's Determined to Kill Me









Accidentally on Purpose (written as Erin Delany)


















Compromising Positions (written as Erin Delany)

















I'm Not the Biggest Bitch in this Relationship (I'm a contributor)



















And these shorts:
Idol Worship: A Lost Week with the Weirdos and Wannabes at American Idol Auditions


















The Gall of It All: And None of the Three F's Rhymes with Duck

















Naked Man On Main Street
find me on Facebook: fan page
 find me on twitter here
 find me on my website