Shane Bolks's Blog, page 14

A Visit from Our Former PBK Mom Elise Rome

Readers, please read all the way to the end before commenting, and please be kind. We know this is a hot-button topic.

First of all, I’m so excited to have a new post up at Peanut Butter on the Keyboard. How I’ve missed you ladies and this blog!

For those of you who might be wondering (from my last posts at PBK), I gave birth to a little boy named Ian Douglas on August 9, 2013 at 3:19am, and weighed 8lb14oz. Here is a picture of him when he was a newborn. =)

Now, on to what’s been on my mommy mind lately!

I have a funny (at least to me) story from two days ago. We’re watching our nephews for a few days while my in-laws are out of town, so my husband asked to clean the house (which I’m starting to think is code for “get the house to myself”) while I took the kids out. Since I’d rather take all three kids out than clean, I agreed.

Now, my 4yo, SuperGirl, has had a doll since right before she turned 1. Well, it used to be a doll—with hair. And a head. Legs and arms. A body. You know, the normal “doll”-ish requirements. Now all that’s left is part of her dress that’s so stained well-loved *cough* that the original blue and pink colors are mostly brown and gray.

Anyway, my daughter goes everywhere with this toy. EVERYWHERE. She puts her in her backpack to take to preschool. She sleeps with her at night. She takes her in the car. Etcetera.

…Except when she forgets her.

Yes, my daughter forgot her “Libby” on our three-kids-and-one-mama excursion two days ago. I didn’t notice, since I was busy getting everything and everyone in the car. And my daughter didn’t notice (immediately) because she had decided to take a toy purse in the car with her after she saw that my other daughter was taking a toy purse. When she did finally notice, we were almost to the interstate, about 15 minutes away from our house. Now, my husband would have turned the car around and driven all the way back to get the doll. He’d rather do that than deal with the ensuing freak-out that would come.

Me, however… Well, I guess I’m the stubborn parent. =)

So we drive 30 more minutes to the Butterfly Pavilion, and SuperGirl is screaming/crying the ENTIRE WAY. I’m not a nice mama, it’s not fair, I need to stop the car now, etc. (Confession: I feel really bad the longer this goes on. She’s pretty hysterical.) I manage to keep calm through it all. Even when we get to the Butterfly Pavilion and I have to drag her out of the car and people in the parking lot are looking at us because she’s still screaming. (I knew my best bet was to get her inside where she’d be distracted.)

So I get all the kids out of the car, put HeroBoy (aka Ian) in his stroller, have WonderGirl (3yo) hold on to the stroller while I’m pushing it with one hand and pulling SuperGirl with the other.

She’s still screaming.

Then she kicks her sister, who’s in front of her.

And my calm goes away.

In the days beforehand, SuperGirl had been getting more physically aggressive with WonderGirl when she would do something SuperGirl didn’t want her to do, and we’d had MANY talks and time-outs, etc about how “it’s okay to be angry, but we never hit/bite/shove/kick/etc”. So she knew better.

So as soon as SuperGirl kicks WonderGirl, I pull my hand back and spank her on the bottom. She hits me. I tell her it’s not okay to hit.

She screams and kicks WonderGirl again. I spank her again. She hits me.

Finally, some rational voice inside my head speaks up and gives me the idea to move her to the other side of the stroller, away from WonderGirl.

And inside, I laughed because I realized just how ludicrous it was to try to discipline her by spanking when I’m disciplining her FOR physical aggression.

Right.

And here’s where I’ve been struggling recently. (Oh, and by the way, she was perfectly fine after a few minutes inside the Butterfly Pavilion. We agreed she wouldn’t hit anymore and I wouldn’t spank her for hitting.)

As a kid, I was spanked. And it worked. Yes, I resented my parents when they spanked me, but they always did it for a good reason and I always knew that I’d done something to deserve it. And really, more often than not just the THREAT of a spanking was enough to put me in line.

But I don’t know if I can continue with spanking as a form of discipline for my kids any longer. For one, it’s making less sense for me to spank my kids when I tell them not to hurt each other. Also, SuperGirl is what I would call a “sensitive” child and I think it hurts her on a deeper level than it does other kids.

(And I know so many people argue over the issue of spanking, but keep reading, because that’s not my question.)

In addition, some things I’ve read recently have made good arguments for no punishment whatsoever. I believe it’s called “gentle parenting”, and it focuses more on correction and engagement than discipline.

I’d like to try it out, but I’m struggling because part of me thinks like my parents thought: “There’s nothing wrong with spanking as long as you use it properly” and—beyond spanking—“Every child needs to learn there are consequences for their actions.”

And I’m struggling because sometimes, with three kids, especially when you’re going somewhere and you’re in a hurry or you’re out in public, it’s just not possible to engage in an emotionally meaningful way.

But then there are articles about how, after a child’s physical needs are met, their emotional needs are the most important (of course). And that they fear we will abandon them emotionally.

Isn’t that what I’m doing when I “punish” my kids? Whether through spanking (which actually is really rare in our household), time-outs, or taking away privileges?

Isn’t that how I felt as a child when I was punished? Isolated, resentful, unworthy? And yes, sometimes—unloved?

I certainly know how terrible I feel when I have to be the “mean mom”, and how much better I feel when I hold them when they’ve misbehaved instead, and wait until they’re calm enough for us to talk.

And I’ve seen how, when WonderGirl has been put in time-out recently, this actually pushes her into more negative behavior.

So I don’t know! Yes, I’m leaning toward trying a different way, but if I do go that route, I want to be consistent.

I’d like to know what you guys do. I know we all parent differently (which I think is a wonderful thing!), and so I’d love to hear why you believe that what you do (for discipline/punishment/correction) is right—even if you think it’s just right for your family.

And just because I love my kids and want to end with a positive note… =)

BABY!!!

This is so my life!

Because I have mommy brain I can’t remember if I’ve ever shared this on here, but I’m so excited that they’re continuing to make the videos and now we have Conversations With my 3-yr old Daughter! Woot.

BTW, if you haven’t watched these before, do yourself a favor and catch up. They’re short and all hilarious!

Advice: Let’s Be Kind

Have you ever been a recipient of unwanted advice? It happens to me sometimes. Not often enough that I’m prepared for it, but just often enough that when it does happen, it throws me. Most of this unwanted advice is from moms. Here’s a scenario I witnessed on the playground recently. These moms are not friends, just acquaintances who know each other because their kids go to the same school.

Mom #1: Johnny is still not potty-trained, and he’s four!

Mom #2: Mine was potty-trained at 22 months. You just have to take the diapers away. Be tough.

Mom #3: That will traumatize him. Just be supportive. He will get it eventually.

Okay, first of all, did this mom ask for advice? No. She was venting, just talking to moms she thought might “get it.” Secondly, was the advice at all helpful? No, because it was completely contradictory. Does she listen to Mom #2 or Mom #3?

What she really needs to hear is “It’s tough being a mom. You’re doing okay.” Because the truth is that none of us is in another mom’s home. We don’t know what their situation is. Maybe the husband and wife fight a lot, and the child is stressed from the conflict and taking longer than average to potty train because of it. Maybe this kid is the sort who, when pushed, regresses. Maybe this kid is the type who does really well when challenged to do something new.

I’m not perfect. I like to give advice too. We all do because it makes us feel smart. Sometimes when we’re giving advice we are, in effect, bragging about how our own kids didn’t have that problem (and are perfect) or how we were super mom (and a better mom than you) in solving it.

In other words, what’s wrong with you Mom #1 that your kid isn’t perfect? What’s wrong with you, Mom #1, that you have this problem? But maybe nothing is wrong with her. Maybe she’s doing the best she can without help from her husband, with a fulltime job, and with a high-maintenance child. Maybe she doesn’t need our advice, but our support.

A few months ago I was slammed on Facebook for something I posted related to my daughter. Again, hadn’t been asking for advice, but boy did I get it. People who don’t know me or my child in real life jumped all over me. It was my bad for posting what I did, and I took my medicine. I won’t make that mistake again. A friend of mine had the same thing happen to her a few weeks later. She asked if she should just delete the post. I said yes. We moms are vulnerable enough without being pummeled by “friends.”

So what I’ve been trying to do since that incident is to practice what I preach. When a mom says something, and I’m tempted to give advice, I don’t say anything right away. I let her keep talking, or I say something neutral. I try to be supportive, even if I don’t necessarily agree 100% with what the parent is doing. If a mom does ask me for advice, I give it but also try to support the mom working through the issue. She may not want to take my suggestion. That’s fine. I still support her.

Moms, is there anything you’re working on? Anything you want to put into practice in your daily lives?

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Announcement: It’s Twins!

As some of you may already know, I’m a mom again. It all happened very suddenly. Last Sunday, to be precise.

I’ve got another post planned about the “anchors” in our lives. Those things that make life feel secure and right, and that also make our homes feel like homes. Pets are one of my anchors.

In September, we lost our collie, Duke, to old age. He was our sweet boy. Our devoted Superdog! His passing hit us all very hard because he truly was a member of the family. He was the only dog we’d ever had, and afterward, we weren’t sure if we wanted to try and “replace” him. We have two affectionate cats (Lord Tango and Sir Oscar, if you’ve visited my website!) and we all agreed they were enough for us.

But recently, more and more we all found ourselves saying how much we missed having a dog in the house. We’d purchased Duke from a collie breeder, but this time we found ourselves looking over the website pictures on the SPCA and Humane Society websites, of adoptable dogs. There are so many of them that need homes, especially older, no-longer-puppy-cute dogs. But…we both work and the kids are in school every day. It just wasn’t the best time to bring a new dog into the home. Maybe summertime, we decided.

Last Sunday afternoon, while my husband and son were out of town, my daughter and I went to the SPCA. Just to look! My daughter fell in love with a big dog named Bella, but I was reluctant because Bella would hardly even lift her head off her pallet to look at us. Oh, and Bella had a brother too, and after a bit of discussion with the volunteer (interrogation on my part) we were told they got really depressed if separated.

This is where my kids ganged up on me. Big time. We couldn’t, they insisted, separate them. And if we didn’t adopt them, someone else would tear them apart. My son went so far as to try and pay for Bear’s adoption with his own money. Sooo…we took them into the Get To Know Each Other Room…

Surprise! We adopted Bella. Isn’t she sweet?

And yes, her brother, Bear, too!

The two dogs who barely showed any interest in anything at the shelter are now happy, smiling, loving dogs and are already members of the family we couldn’t imagine life without.

Are you a pet mom? Do you have one special pet, or…a herd like we do now? Did they come into your life by choice, or by chance?

Happy Monday All!

Kids are Weird

I think I say this at the end of every day. Kids are just WEIRD. At least, mine are.

The other day I was on Skype with my critique partner Jackie Ashenden, just voice Skype mind you (because if it was video chat I’d feel obligated to not be in my pajamas and maybe I’d have to do my hair and like look…human. So we’ve mutually, unspokenly agreed that neither of us need that kind of pressure in our lives, thanks) so anyway, all she can do is HEAR what’s happening.

“GET OUT OF THE WINDOWSILL! Right now. Get out of mommy’s windowsill!”

And I suddenly realized how weird that sounded out of context. “He was the in windowsill.” Then I realized context made it no better and it ended with me laughing and saying: Motherhood. The things we end up saying that we never thought we’d say.

This weekend we spent the days with a couple of painted ponies. Yes, our oldest and youngest were ponies all weekend. And they painted themselves like their favorite My Little Pony. Diva (4) refused to respond to any name other than Pinkie Pie. So we were very seriously speaking to Pinkie Pie for at least two days.

But you know, in this house, which boasts a paper scare crow who lives on our fridge and is called Philip, not much is that surprising.

Drama has a lot of ideas. He often pops into my office to say something like: I wish that things could come out of the TV. Could that happen? Or…If I were a magician, I would make things come out of my ipod.

If, in the future, there is some odd technology where you can buy items through the TV and pull them out and into your living room…my son is probably responsible.

Then we have the issue of the recurring Bear Nightmare.

Diva: I had a bad dream of bears last night.

Drama: Oh that’s too bad. Did they come in your room?

Diva: YES!

Drama: Did they carry you away into the woods?

Diva: YESS!

Drama: Did they pop your head off!??

Diva: O_O YESSSS!!!

So thanks for that, older brother. Now every morning we hear of the bears that ‘did pop her head off.’

There is something about that weirdness though. That childlike way of looking at the world where they seem to not acknowledge the ‘rules’. Where they see crazy random and wonderful possibilities in every little thing.

My oldest, who is 7 now, is always talking about making art. And building a museum for his art. And writing books. And teaching children French (he doesn’t speak French but he enjoys the language a lot). There’s something beautiful about that time of life when possibilities are endless and you have all the confidence in the world that you’ll achieve whatever you want to achieve.

I think it’s good to be around. It’s a reminder. To not take things too seriously. To swing for the fences. To care about things and want things and laugh at things.

Kids are weird. And I’m okay with that.

Got any weird kid stories for me? Lay them on me.

 

 

Exercise: it does a body, mind and soul good!

 

Okay, so I’m sure we’ve all heard something similar to the title of this blog at some point in our lives. Either a friend’s told us, or we’ve read a magazine article about it, or maybe even our family doctor has shared this sage advice.

 

We know the physical benefits of exercising—improve heart health, increase muscle strength, ward off disease, etc. But we often forget the mental benefits of exercising.

 

For me, going out for a run is usually a great way to unwind. It allows me time away from other distractions to think, or to plug into my music and let the worries slip away. I come home tired, yet energized. My mood is lifted. I feel empowered. I feel stronger—mentally and physically.

 

As a mom who’s been called “other-focused”, I admit that I have a tendency to take care of others before myself. Trying my best to ensure that others have what they need.

 

Just the other day someone tried to explain why it’s important for me to make sure I have what I need emotionally and physically, too. 

 

She said:

“It’s good for your health and well-being.”

“No one else will take care of you as well as you should take care of yourself.”

“It’s good for you to model for you daughters that taking care of yourself is important.”

 

My friend and I both chuckled when I admitted that if there’s one thing that would motivate me to do my best to be healthy, it’s that last reason she gave. I’ll do almost anything if it’ll benefit my girls. Of course, my friend smirked a little as she reminded me that with “other-focused” people, explaining how their actions might benefit someone else can be the best motivator.  :-)

 

So, this past weekend, I took some time for myself. Sure, it’s a little easier for me since I’m a single mom and my girls are all out of the house now. But my schedule is so jam-packed, I almost backed out of the weekend. Nearly convinced myself I had too much to do. Too many projects at work and at home to warrant going away for a long weekend.  But ultimately, I hit the road and the ocean.

 

I made the drive to Ft. Myers, Florida from my current home town, hopped the Key West Express ferry shuttle, and sailed to my old home town to run the Key West half marathon.

 

Mind you, I hadn’t trained since I spontaneously decided to register for the race less than a month ago when an old high school friend let me know she was running. Hence one of the arguments I tried to use during my “should I-shouldn’t I go” debate—13.1 miles without training, are you crazy?

 

But I challenged myself to compete, justifying it as a chance to set my benchmark for 2014. Let this race time be a starting time for 2014, with my goal being to improve by the end of the year. Just like I’ve set a 2014 goal to improve in other areas of life.

 

And guess what, not only did I finish, but I finished in one of my best race times ever! Granted, it wasn’t a personal record and I did finish a little less than an hour after the #1 female racer, but my time of 2 hours, 19 minutes, 43 seconds was definitely respectable. In my eyes anyway.

 

I finished that race much like I finish a regular run—feeling energized, empowered and stronger. What better example can I set for my daughters? What better example can I set for myself?

 

Two days earlier my girlfriend had met me at the ferry landing holding up a sign that read: Priscilla Awesome Runner.  We had laughed together as we hugged hello. Post-race, we grinned as she bragged about how prophetic her sign had proven to be.

 

Awesome Runner isn’t a bad title to have. For me though, it’s more important to be Awesome Mom or Awesome Person. Regular exercise, staying healthy allows me to constantly strive for both.

 

What about you? Is running your go-to exercise? Or what do you regularly do to help your physical and mental well-being?

Blogs I love…

I hope that most of you check in with us on a weekly basis so that you can see what we’re up to here at the Peanut Butter moms. Or better yet, maybe you subscribe and get out blogs delivered directly to your email. I have a handful of blogs that I’m a loyal follower of and can’t wait to read their posts when they pop into my inbox. Today I thought I’d share some of them with you…

I Heart Organizing – this blog is like the holy grail for all things organizing for your home. Seriously her project gallery is like porn for me. I just can’t get enough of her great ideas.

A Bowl Full of Lemons – this blog is pretty similar to I Heart Organizing though with a different flare. Toni, the woman who runs it, has great ideas for not only organizing stuff in your home, but also your finances. And she runs a FB group where you can see how other people are organizing their houses.

Modern Parents, Messy Kids – I love this woman’s sense of humor. She blogs about everything too, which is great, recipes, DIY, kid stuff, organization, etc.

Spring Cleaning365 – Seriously I never thought I’d follow a blog about cleaning, but I love the way she breaks projects down into bite-sized pieces. It’s so nice to think I only have to do this one thing today, I don’t have to clean an entire house.

So how about you? Do you have favorite blogs out there? If I were to peek at your Pinterest boards, what would I find? Mine are littered with organization ideas and recipes and some DIY stuff. Comment and you could win my entire Forbidden Love series. 

I’m Robyn DeHart, AKA Basket-Case Mama, but not because I’m crazy (though really, what mom isn’t?) but because I have a slight obsession with baskets, well containers really. I’m a bit of an organization nut and I love to containerize stuff. And yes, I’m authorized to use words like that because I am also a writer. But back to the kids, so I’m mom to two ridiculously beautiful little girls and I can say that without bragging because I didn’t actually make them. In 2011, my husband, The Professor, and I adopted said little lovelies from the foster-care system here in Texas and now we’re a big happy forever family. Busybee is five and so full of joy it just oozes from her. Babybee is three and is ridiculously smart and sassy. When I’m not trying to keep up with my two bundles of energy, you can usually find me on my laptop on Pinterest, no, that’s not right, um…you can find me writing, yes, that’s it, writing my latest historical romance. www.robyndehart.com

Friendship is Hard (Even When You’re A Grown-up)

I’m hoping that this post ends up making sense, and that it applied to people other than me. It’s something I’ve been thinking about a lot lately because…well, because life.

I’m in a weird place with friends. Sometimes I attribute it to being a writer, but I essentially think everyone experiences variants of this in their life. And probably repeatedly.

I’m twenty-seven, I’ll be twenty-eight in a couple months. This year it’s been ten years since I’ve graduated from high school, and in so many ways I feel like I’m still floundering with relationships as much now as I ever was. Unlike high school nothing is manifesting in giant breaks of relationships, where no one ever speaks to each other again. But it’s…hard.

I often see other people live tweeting girl’s nights out, and it occurred to me: I don’t really have anyone I could call up and do that with. And that’s a sobering realization, let me tell you.

Some of my issues are, I’m sure, that I have something of a disconnect with the majority of my age group. I’ve been married for eight years, I have three kids and a demanding career. I’m in a different place than a lot of my peers.

I think some of this is brought on by the fact I work at home. I think some of it is because my mom was sick for a while, and people naturally distanced themselves because of their own discomfort. And I naturally distanced MYSELF because of mine. Because keeping my head down focusing on family was easier than giving status updates.

But we’ve come out of that, and I find myself struggling to deal with the non-family people in my life.

I have a friend I’ve known since we were babies, and she’s amazing. But we both have kids. She has a big family. We live within walking distance of each other and so rarely manage to see each other it’s…well it’s sad. She is supportive of my accomplishments, and I really hope I am of hers. But life has definitely gotten in the way of the kind of friendship we used to have.

Then there are the lovely new friends I’ve met since becoming a writer. Friendships forged online and at conferences, people I have tons in common with…but  who live states, continents…oceans away.

And (this is where I hope no one RL is reading this, if so hi, *waves* I probably should have talked to you instead of blogged about it…but then, that’s an indicator of how hard it all is, isn’t it?) I have a segment of friends who I realized the other day never ask me about my writing career. Ever. I can spend six hours with them, talking about their work and careers and kids, and no one asks.

I was pondering it last time we were together (read getting broodier and broodier as the gathering went on) that maybe the problem is that our lives have moved in directions that are just way too different. Maybe they’ve changed. Or maybe it’s me.

Early on in my career there were some comments made that has made me feel like the topic of my writing isn’t welcome. I don’t feel like I can share my success with them and that feels like having to leave a large portion of my life, a part I’m passionate about, hidden. Sometimes I think that’s okay. That we can share other things and I don’t HAVE to talk writing with them.

Other times it really needles me. In fact, sometimes it feels pretty devastating. Like you want those people you care about, people you’ve been friends with for fifteen years, to be proud of you. To be interested in you. I’ve been at war with myself on how to address it. I don’t think I’ve worried so much about friends since I was sixteen. Heck, it outstrips even the boy drama I had back then.

I’m in a point where I feel adrift with friendships. Unable to connect with the people I want to connect with, either because of schedules, distance or change.

There’s every chance I need to be direct and ask for the changes I want. Which…is what I’m afraid of because ruminating and stewing costs less in terms of commitment to potentially rattling cages. I don’t like to rattle cages.

It’s hard to know how to conclude a post like this. Because I like to have some answers. I like to pretend I know what I’m talking about. I prefer to be funny. But in this instance, I really don’t have them. I’m just throwing up my hand to say: I’m Maisey, and I struggle with people.

So that maybe I’ll hear it’s normal. And maybe you’ll read this, and if you’re struggling, you’ll be relieved that it’s normal too.

BUT I’m pleased to say, I have a coffee date tomorrow with two ladies and I’m very excited for me. So maybe things are shifting.

I’ll keep you posted.

 

The Bedtime Prison

Is anyone else doing time in the bedtime prison? I’ve been serving intermittent sentences in the bedtime prison for the last 4 years. Since Day One, I’ve been trying to teach Princess Galen to go to sleep on her own. Either I’m not doing it right or she’s a slow learner. Every once in a while she seems to get it, and I’ll receive a brief parole. I just tuck her in, read a book, and say, “Goodnight!”

When I close the door behind me, I want to jump and run and shout. Freedom!

But like that third Godfather movie, something always pulls me back in.

Just when I think she has the hang of the whole falling asleep on her own thing, she gets sick and then used to me being in her room with her, we go on vacation and share a hotel bed, she has a string of bad dreams, or recently, she gave up thumb-sucking.

That’s why I’m serving my current sentence. I helped her give up thumb-sucking, and she needed to learn a new way to fall asleep. That’s not easy for anyone. I understand that, and I did stay with her willingly for the first few nights. Now she’s mostly stopped sucking her thumb, but I’m back in prison. And the worst part is that the nights when I’m in bedtime prison are always the most inconvenient.

I sit in the dark room, waiting for her to become drowsy enough to fall asleep, but I’m thinking about the pile of laundry I need to fold, the dishes in the sink, the cats who are sitting outside her door waiting to be fed (and occasionally meowing with displeasure, which wakes Princess Galen again), the 16 emails I need to answer, the blog I need to write before midnight, and the school lunch I need to pack. Oh, and it’s 7:30, and I wanted to go to sleep at 9 so I could be ready for my 5 a.m. workout.

But NOTHING is getting done because I’m in the bedtime prison! And as soon as I think I’m free, as soon as I stand and make my way silently as a ninja to the door, she sits up and says, “Mommy, I have to tell you something.”

Sigh. Eye roll. “What?”

“Come here. It’s a secret.”

I lean close, and she whispers, “I love you. Can you stay just one more minute?”

Oh, all right…back to my (now padded) cell.

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Deadlines Make Me Weird

I’m new to the PBK blog, so you don’t know me very well. It’s really unfortunate that I’m jumping in now, because to tell the truth, I’m at my weirdest and worst.

That’s right. It’s deadline time.

Some clear-minded, efficient writers sit down each day and write clean, well-thought out pages, give them one pass or two or three, and move on to the next until they calmly reach “THE END”, sometimes self-assuredly announcing to friends, “I’ve turned in my book early!”

This blog is somewhat of a confessional, isn’t it? Here’s my confession: That’s not me. Ever. I’ve never had a “good” deadline. I’ve never turned in a book early or without being a half-hysterical mess when I press the SEND button. I never want to let a book go because it’s Still. Not. Perfect.

There’s more, I’m afraid. I’m not always a Happy Writer. Sometimes I can even be a Self Loathing Writer. I write out of order. I cut whole chapters that displease me. I doubt my choices, and go back and make different ones. Inevitably, these behaviors intensify as I get closer to my deadline, which means the final weeks for me are always a blur of story, wild emotions (mine AND my characters’), doubts, lack of sleep, eight inconvenient hours spent at my day job, family obligations and final-pages-yet-to-be-written-and-polished, and a plot still in need of a chiropractic adjustment.

Strangely, at my day job I’m the opposite. I’m confident. Efficient. Decisive. Cheerful! I finish my deadlines early, do a great job and leave every day feeling very much like a self-satisfied smarty pants.

Why the difference with my writing? I don’t know exactly. But writing feels so deeply personal, whereas the work I do at the office every day does not. When something comes from your heart, and represents you, you want it to be perfect. All writers are perfectionists, I think, but for some of us, perfectionism can turn into a scary, slobbering and sometimes destructive monster.

Never fear! I’m not going to go all Edgar Allan Poe on you! My only self-harming addictions during these dark times are Dove chocolates and Cheetos. But you may ask the question now: If writing puts a scary, slobbering and sometimes destructive monster inside your head, then why do you do it?

Because there’s nothing more satisfying than having written a book, and giving life to characters who despite all your fears and doubts, manage to exceed your expectations, be wonderful people and find their well deserved happily-ever-after. And there is no better feeling than hearing you’ve touched a reader’s heart and that your story made a positive difference in their day, or their week or even their life. I can’t not write. I couldn’t stop if I wanted to.

So how do I get through these final days, where I’m finishing a book?

1. I’ve embraced my “weird” process. I’ve stopped feeling ashamed for not always (okay, rarely) being a Happy Writer. I’ve accepted that this is the way I create. There’s a saying in Austin, TX. “KEEP AUSTIN WEIRD”. There’s a reason! Weird = Good! Or at least interesting.

2. Chocolate!!!!

3. I let my family support me. I used to feel that I had to do it all, even through my deadlines. This translated into The Martyr Syndrome, where I cooked dinner after coming home from work, helped with homework, made the necessary mid-week shopping trips, etc., etc…and then got snappy-snarly with my family for expecting it, which wasn’t fair because I didn’t ask them for help or let anyone know these couple of weeks needed to be different. I’ve mellowed out a bit. My husband can make the grocery runs and help with homework. And yes — we can have pizza or cereal or grilled cheese for dinner. Again.

4. Chocolate!!!!

5. I don’t read my negative reviews. I appreciate the time anyone takes to read and review my book, and truly believe reviewers are entitled to share their opinions with the world. Freedom! **Braveheart yell!** At the same time, the more cutting criticisms have a way of working their way into my mind and jumping out to taunt and dishearten when I’m deepest into my story, so I just don’t put them in my mind in the first place. (I already have enough criticisms of my own! Remember the scary, slobbering monster? Rawr!)

6. More. Chocolate!!!

7. I take comfort in my friends! My Happy Writer Friends, who hearten and inspire me, and my Self-Loathing Writer Friends, who understand. And also YOU, who have come to visit the blog today. Thanks for listening and cheering me on and wishing me the best with this book.

I know I should end this post with a conversation-starting question, but…I can’t think of one, and I’ve got to save what’s left of my creativity to finish this book. Feel free to say anything you like. Hugs to you all. I’ll see you on the other side of this deadline.

I’m Lily Dalton, also known on PBK as LA VIDA LOCA MOM. “Stay Calm and Carry On” has long been my mantra. Always and forever an Army brat, I find comfort in structure, pattern and stability, but with two teenagers in the family, a full time job and writing deadlines, I’ve learned to embrace the madness and…sleep less!