What Is a Real Mom?

Linda tagged me so here is my response to "What is a real mom?"

As every mother knows, there's more to being a mom than giving birth. Being a mom to me means:
1. Telling them no sometimes. No, you can't have a tv. in your room. No, you can't have your own cell phone. No, I am not your friend; I am your mom.
2. Teaching them that good manners don't cost anything.
3. Checking the closet for scary monsters before bedtime.
4. Helping them with their homework even after you've worked all day and you're tired and your body is screaming for a nap.
5. Reading Sylvester and the Magic Pebble - again. Or The Little House - again. Or Goodnight Moon - again.
6. Giving up your free time to take them to cello lessons, soccer practice, Cub Scouts, the spring concert, the holiday concert, violin lessons, the library etc.
7. Using a diaper bag in place of a purse for the first few years.
8. Finding it hard to watch your son's wrestling match, even when he's winning.
9. Having a game of catch on a soft summer afternoon.
10. Getting up in the middle of the night to clean up vomit.
11. Worrying when they get their driver's license.
12. Sending them care packages when they go away to college.
13. Never forgetting the moment you held their tiny bodies in your arms for the first time and marveled at how perfect and beautiful they were.

These are just a few of the things that came to my mind -- things I won't forget about being a mom.

A Night On Bald Mountain and the Trail Angel

My mountain man, Derek, called this morning from Erwin, Tennessee. Two nights ago he'd hiked up to a shelter near the top of Bald Mountain (elevation 5500 ft.). The temperature, he said, had plummeted to about zero and so his water had frozen and his shoes -- and even his Snickers bars -- were blocks of ice. He had to hike a lot of miles before he finally warmed up.

While at the shelter, he looked at the log book. Sometimes the hikers leave messages for one another or comments about the scenery, weather conditions, things to look for, thoughts to ponder etc. There, spread across an entire page, was a message about an Easter Dinner that a so-called "trail angel" was hosting for the AT hikers. It was all you can eat- for free! So, Derek copied down the phone number and, when he came to a place with good phone reception, gave the kind angel a call. She picked him up in her truck and brought him to the church where he and about 60 other hikers had gathered for dinner. And eat they did! When you're hiking 12-20 miles a day, you work up a healthy appetite.

Apparently there are many trail angels along the route, people who pass out sandwiches, fruit salad, and even omelettes to the hikers passing through. What a generous thing to do. In a world crowded with too many ugly stories about war, hunger, savagery and neglect it's nice to hear of people performing selfless acts of kindness for total strangers.

Angels don't necessarily wear wings or halos. Sometimes they can look like our next door neighbors.

Procrastination

I believe I've taken the art of procrastination to a new level. It's amazing how many things I can find to distract myself from my writing. Here are just a few, I'm sorry to say.

1. Play game of online Scrabble. Lose to Maven (but at Master level).
2. Check email.
3. Complete NY Times crossword puzzle, except for 3 spaces in lower left hand corner.
4. Read friends' blogs.
5. Throw load of dirty laundry into washer.
6. Stare at last Mallomar in package and wonder if should eat it now or save it for dessert.
7. Fiddle with blog layout.
8. Play another game of Scrabble. Lose again to Maven, sigh.
9. Read another chapter of novel.
10. Throw laundry into dryer.
11. Make cup of tea.
12. Check email again.
13. Take recyclables out to curb.
14. Check Blue Boards.
15. Check SCBWI boards.
16. Look up weather in different parts of country. Then world.
17. Decide what the heck. Eat last Mallomar.
Problem: Husband has already eaten it.
Lesson: Don't procrastinate.

Don't be surprised if the next time you look up procrastinate in the dictionary, you find my picture alongside it. So, how do you while away the time? I know I'm not alone here.

Appalachian Trail Update

My son, Derek, has finished his trek through the Smoky Mountains and is now winding his way through North Carolina and Tennessee (the Appalachian Trail meanders through both states for a while). So far, he's acquired lots of blisters, eaten his way through boxes of food, met some interesting people and taken in some startling beautiful scenery, he says. After hiking 40 miles over two days, yesterday he took a day off to shower at a hostel and email his article to our local newspaper.

The thru-hikers give each other trail names. One guy, a lawyer, is nicknamed Not Guilty and another, a Brit, has the moniker Father Christmas. Derek's nickname is Caterpillar. Not because he moves like one, but because somebody said he looked like a caterpillar threshing around in his sleeping bag. Okay, so maybe he does move a little bit like a caterpillar.

My husband, Dennis and his friend, Matt, drove down to North Carolina yesterday to meet up with Derek and hike part of the trail with him. They left the house at the ungodly hour of four a.m. (to avoid traffic in New York City). So far, so good but for Derek, so many miles and months away from Mt Katahdin, Maine - the end of the journey.

Writing and Painting

The painting above of a vase and a mango is one of my most recent. It's a small portion of a much larger set up. We went through a lot of mangoes before we finally finished. That's one of the problems with painting directly from life - fresh fruit, veggies and flowers soon spoil.

When I get stuck with my writing, I find it therapeutic to paint. Painting allows me to turn off those voices in my brain for a while - the voices of my characters nagging me to please do something, anything to help them out of the predicaments I left them in. Take my character, Lottie, for instance. Ever since I left her as a mouse in a tool shed, she's been pleading with me to turn her back into a human. Her fate is in my hands, after all. I'm thinking about it. It's just that my other characters have also been nagging me to get on with their stories. A little at a time, guys. I do have a day job you know.

Sometimes, despite my best intentions, the words don't flow from me like water from a spigot. Or I get stuck and need to step away from plot lines and characters for a while so I can take a fresh look at everything later. Then I turn to painting or drawing. In addition, every Saturday I take an oil painting class out in Riverhead with Robert Armetta - a wonderful painter and teacher. He looks more like a boxer than an artist but those 3-5 hours I spend painting in the studio every week are, for the most part, an oasis of quiet and relaxation. Even if my painting doesn't always turn out the way I want, I learn something in the process. After a few hours of painting or drawing I feel better prepared to take on the world of my characters and their dilemmas.

The Road Less Traveled

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

So concludes Frost's poem, "The Road Not Taken", one of my favorites.

Why do I want to be an author of children's books, of all things? When I tell people my plans, they often look at me and say, "Better stick to being a librarian" or "Yeah, maybe one day I'll write a kid's book, too" as though nothing could be easier. In reality, writing a book that will captivate a child's imagination is a daunting task. Trying to get one published seems nearly impossible. Where to begin?

Well, as I told my son when he began questioning the feasibility of thru-hiking the Appalachian Trail, you start at the beginning and take one small step at a time. If you stop to think about how long it will take to cover over 2,100 miles, you'll be overwhelmed and perhaps never finish. In my quest to become an author, that is, after all, what I do; I take one step at a time.

For Derek, the beginning started long before the drive down to the approach trail in Georgia. It began months ago with some background reading. He researched the history of the trail, read thru-hiker's journals, took notes on the supplies he'd need, where to camp, how to deal with bears and what obstacles he might encounter. To get in shape, he started running. He made certain he bought lightweight, water resistant clothing and equipment. And he boxed and stockpiled loads of food for us to mail to various towns along the trail.

Becoming a writer requires self-education, too. Even though I write almost daily, I also read a great deal -- children's books, books about characterization, dialogue, plotting and thematic development, books about where to submit and how to get published. I subscribe to a professional writing journal and attend writing conferences from time to time. And I belong to a wonderful critique group who has helped me immensely. Still, I'm not there yet. Neither is Derek. But, with every day he spends on the trail, he gets closer to his goal. He knows, as well as I, that a lot of people begin the journey but few actually finish. It is, after all, an arduous undertaking.

Each of my tiny successes brings me closer to my goal too. How's that? Well, without them, I'd probably never have the will to keep plugging away. Every time I get something else published, I know I must be doing something right. So, I keep at it, one step at a time. Despite the rejections, the occasional feelings of unworthiness and, at times, the long upward climb, I keep at it.

Dylan Hears a What!

This certainly belongs in the Museum of the Hard To Believe. I love Dylan, but aw, give it up Mr. Zimmerman. Check it out.

http://dylanhearsawho.com/home.htm