Leslea Tash's Blog, page 28
August 14, 2013
Momsanity
I just want to do it all. All of the things. Is that so crazy?
Yeah, it is. But I know I’m not the only mother who feels this way.
And for me, it’s important to note that it is a feeling. It’s not a rational thought. ”I can do it all” is a lot different than “I’d like to do it all.” I have to get a grip on reality sometimes. Today is one of those times.
I’ve been packing up my house to move. They say moving is one of the most stressful life events you can endure, and I think “they” are right. Of course I’ve moved before. I’ve moved several times before. I’ve never moved four children, though. I’ve never moved from one house I’m selling into another house I’m buying.
At least the packing is relatively light so far. We gutted our “stuff” last year and put it into storage so our house would show better. Before that, I gave away my baby grande piano and shed other furniture. I’m sure the place did show better for the efforts, but it didn’t sell. (It must sell once we’re out! I believe it will.)
Regardless of all that purging and storage, would you believe I have filled the equivalent of eight large Lowe’s packing boxes full of stuff to yard sale or donate? I’m not even done yet. We still have part of our utility room and the entirety of our garage to go through.
But the packing is the easy part. Tim’s been dealing with the loan side of things and I’ve been biting the inside of my cheek and snapping at him, two things that are way out of character. He told me this is temporary, that he knows it’s just stressful for a short time and we will settle into a new normal soon. I’m glad he said that because I felt horrible.
At the same time I felt horrible for being less than gracious, I felt elated to be getting so much done. Like I said at the beginning, I want to do ALL the things, right? But for me, doing ALL the things means more than packing. It means more than watching the kids. It means working, too.
Honestly, if I’m looking at a household full of objects and discerning one at a time whether or not each is worth keeping (and if so, which box to put it in), I have no space in my mind for writing. I just don’t. I can’t. Doesn’t work. If I’m doing mindless work like dishes, I can think about my stories, but moving isn’t mindless. It’s quite intentional. It requires energetic thought and constant decision-making.
So, right now I’m not writing. I walked away mid-poker game in Troll Or Park. I promised another book in July that I backburnered after 5k words. I’ve got a third novel about 15k finished that is priority #3. Yes, I want to write ALL the things! I have a huge list of projects I’d like to pull off once I finish these three, and I still get new ideas all the time. Most of them I trash, but those that stick are on the list and I sincerely want to write them all.
I just checked, thinking there were 13-15 ideas on that list. Nope. 28. Twenty-eight. Two-eight. WTF, Leslea?
I am a workaholic. I love my work. I also love my family. Being a workaholic means I have a history of using the work I love to isolate myself from the people I love. I will use work as an excuse when it would be perfectly acceptable to STOP working, to focus on my people, and be present with them. I have the serenity to accept this. I have the courage to change what I can. I have the wisdom to know the difference, most of the time. That last part took a lot of practice. Years of practice.
One of the huge attractions to moving is that I can enroll the kids in school and the baby in preschool. They all want to do this. It’s not just so I can work.
But I realized yesterday, while dancing with my daughter in post-packing celebration, that I would miss my family horribly if I packed them all up and away every day M-F. The boys are big and they need everything school has to offer them, but I won’t be enrolling my daughter in full-time daycare so I can write ALL the things. As much as I want to work and feel compelled to work (and need to work, to afford the new place and finish fixing up the old to sell!), I need my family more. I need to invest in my daughter that quality Mommy time all toddlers need. ”Mama” is still her favorite word and Mama wants to be able to devote time to her—just her—while she needs it.
So.
Can I do it all? I suppose. There *will* be time for writing (just writing, just me and my computer), for family (just family), for my daughter (just me and her), for each of my boys (Mommy nights!), and for my husband (we WILL find a reliable sitter!). I can do all of that. Will it happen all at once? No. Will it happen in even a month’s time? No. Once the infrastructure is in place, will I finish all 28 of those “extra” projects in a year’s time? Probably not!
But it’s insanity to want that so badly that you bite your cheek and your hair falls out. It’s insanity, but it’s also passion. It’s somewhere between workaholic and crazy artist territories. It is all me.
I’ll never sacrifice my family for my personal achievement, because that’s not what love is. I will love my family every single way I know how, with all my talents and all my gifts. I may never achieve every thing I want to do, but in this life, I will do THAT. That’s Momsanity. It might look nuts sometimes, but when I think with my heart, it’s really the only thing that makes any sense.
Back to packing!
August 13, 2013
1000 likes giveaway
Okay, so in order to get over the “hump” of a thousand page likes, I’m giving away some novels (ebooks or paperback, depending on what was given to me) over at my Facebook page.
Have you “liked” my page? Make sure you turn on Notifications. It’s under the same tab as the “like” button on the page. Otherwise, you won’t know what’s up for grabs!
Okay, off to choose a winner! Stay tuned for the next!
August 12, 2013
Actually, I have been much happier since I stopped relying on...
Actually, I have been much happier since I stopped relying on your “love” to get me through the hard times. As it happened, I never felt you there for me in my dark hours. You never once dried a tear. You never held me at night and eventually I got to the point where I didn’t need that anymore. What I needed was as a human being to love me, not a dead God.
You, Jesus, might have been really fantastic at living, and I admire you for that, but as far as practicalities go, so little of your philosophy applies to my every day life. In my life I have followed you nearly to my own death and it required an intervention for me to realize I was about to let someone actually kill me in your name. So, no, following you didn’t turn out to be the best thing for me.
Will I let you love me back to life again? What the fuck does that mean, exactly? I’m pretty happy with the life I have, thank you very much. I’ve been through so much, Jesus, relying on you for strength and healing that never came. I actually think I’m so much better off now—healthier and happier—now that I’ve discovered life beyond magical thinking. Now that I am actually able to choose a happy life in the real world.
Sitting and waiting and praying for you to work things out for me just didn’t really do all that much.
I’m sure you love me, maybe about the same amount my Grandma loved me. I saw her a few times before she died. Or maybe my other grandmother, who I never met. I’m sure you technically “love” me, but it’s probably about as much as a dead distant grandparent who doesn’t even know me.
I used to believe you knew my heart. I believed it because I needed to believe it. I had no parents, no partner, and my friends were so distant. I don’t think they even began to comprehend the suffering I was enduring. I was in so much pain. I needed to believe you understood, because who else could? And you had it so much worse, it was supposed to give me comfort that you had it worse and took it all on the chin *for me*.
It just never really worked for me. I tried. No hard feelings. I care about you and all that. I don’t need you to love me back to life, though. That sounds so creepy. My life has plenty of joy and it has pretty much nothing to do with you. Sorry! Take care.
Indie-Licious Back to School Sale!
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August 11, 2013
August 10, 2013
totes adorb
booksandtea:
booksandtea:
claycharmtreats:
Okay,...
totes adorb
Okay, so i’ve spent a few hours working out the best way to create a tiny teapot with teacups and saucers! Hopefully my translucent liquid sculpey will arrive tomorrow, so i’ll be able to fill the cups, bake the charms and possibly paint on the side. As you can see, each teacup is just under 1cm, so they’re pretty fiddly, especially for a beginner like me.
You might be able to see a couple of the practice books/journals in the background that I’ve been practicing. I need the TLS before I can work with it seriously though.
Guys look at these that a friend of mine have made c:
How adorable? Go and check out her blog/etsy for other cute charms ❤
reblogging for the night tumblrs whilst i get to work on my queue
August 9, 2013
"We are very good at preparing to live, but not very good at living. We know how to sacrifice ten..."
- Thich Nhat Hanh (via bluishtigers)
Anatomy of a childhood
When we returned from our glorious trip to Orlando last year, I repurposed the over-the-door shoe organizer in the bedroom two of my sons share. With its scads of deep shoe-ready pockets, it holds so much “stuff”!
Today as I examined what was in each pocket, deciding whether or not to leave it in (to be folded up and moved wholesale) or to box or throw away larger items, I realized I was pulling out a treasure trove of childhood artifacts:
a set of jacks
a wiggly rubber bug
a tin-can telephone
handprints made in plaster in the mud with the teen helper who came this summer
two dozen comics
nintendo cartridges
super hero temporary tattoos
a button from DisneyWorld last year
and so on and so on and so on
There wasn’t much to throw away, really. It’s all just so…priceless.
