Amanda A. Allen's Blog, page 2

Sleep, oh sleep you beautiful thing…

Sleep is an elusive state of being as a parent.  It’s the weird shadow in the distance that’s always three Pokemon steps away.  WTH is that thing and why is it never catchable?  Why must it taunt me?

At my work, I set next to three dudes.  None of whom have children.  I was explaining to them the other day that–as a parent–you reach a level of tired where you feel physically ill.  Your stomach hurts.  You can actually feel your pillow under your cheek even when you’re sitting at your desk.  The longing for your comforter and mattress is so deep and abiding, it’s a physical thing.  You get so tired that your bones hurt inside your body.  You become abnormally aware of the placement of your shin bones.

Sometimes when I wake up now, I can feel the bones in the back of my heel. This actually happens to me every single day when the littlest wakes growl-screaming for his bottle.   This is not a life badge I’d have chosen out of the bag of life badges.  (That’s a thing right?  The life-badge bag?  The growl-scream is DEFINITELY a thing and it’s horrible.)

Sometimes, as a parent, you can sleep through anything.  Thunder storm?  Dogs barking?  Anything except the sound of your baby crying.  Maybe even just moving around in their crib or outside your door.

We’ve had a rough–like 6 months–of sleep issues.  Turns out you can’t really sleep train a child with Fetal Alcohol Syndrome.  I’m a foster parent of a child who can get so angry while being tired that he’s physically incapable of settling down enough to sleep.  I mean…I don’t even have words for how I feel about that.  But if I were to start choosing some–they’d all have four letters.

We’ve added to this so many illnesses I want to punch someone.  My daughter had something called stomatis.  (It’s possible I spelled that wrong.)  Think canker sores, plus fevers, plus general yuckiness and lack of appetite plus a cough that makes you puke once you *finally* start eating.  She would wake every night, screaming “mommy” and be unable to sleep until I came into her room, told her she was ok, and settled her back onto her pillow with her blanket.  I am pretty sure that she didn’t even know she was doing it.  It was this sort of instinctive need to be soothed while so tired she was delirious.

The reason sleep is on my mind today is because I actually slept through my alarm.  This isn’t unusual for me.  But today, I slept through it for around an hour.  I woke to my littlest moving in his crib, having entirely missed the buzz of my cell phone from beneath my cheek.  Despite the fact that I had pushed snooze enough that it was still counting down.  This means I pushed it at least 3 or 4 times.

What. The. Ever-living. HELL…

So…parenting…it’s a bag of awesome.  But it’s also a bag of horror.  And there is my random tribute to sleep.  Good night!

~Amanda

 

I object…

In fact, I object strenuously and overwhelmingly.  It super pisses me off.  I am riding a little bit of a rage train.

What about you ask?

Let me give you a little background.  My life has been crazy for the last 4 years of single parenting, foster adopting, having my biggest supporters move across country, losing my Dad, working full-time and trying to make my books successful.  During that time I fostered 6 kids who I loved like my own. I haven’t seen two of them for almost 3 years.  It SUCKS.  So damn hard.  I worry over and love them still.  I adopted three after a roller coaster of years that left me a ball of worry and anxiety.  I didn’t believe the adoption would go through until after it did.  And then, somehow, we got a little surprise of a baby boy who is dealing with Fetal Alcohol Syndrome issues.  Those issues SUCK.  It doesn’t mean we don’t love the Bean but FAS is a beetttttccchhhhh!

Not surprisingly seeing the list above, I have been dealing with some anxiety issues.  What is surprsing to me as I deal with these things is the shame associated with mental and emotional issues.

In fact, it super pisses me off.

I **SHOULD** be overwhelmed.  Did you see that list up there?  That’s isn’t a crazy train.  It’s a crazy rocket flying to the crazy planet with the new queen of the crazy town.  Queen Captain of the Crazy Town, in fact.

That list is, in fact, bull crap.  And I’m working on making it more manageable.  Because I recognize that it is BULL CRAP.  But, as I came to the slow realization that my stress and worries were having physical and mental side-effects (again not surprising), I only did so because one person was willing to help me recognize what was happening.

I think that the reality is that a LOT of people are overwhelmed right now.  I think, in fact, that many people either are quietly taking anxiety and/ or depression meds.  Or they should consider taking them.  And taking them without shame.  I think that as a society we ask too much of ourselves.  We expect ourselves to do pinterest parties and cook organic kale for our children after we make them bread from wheat we grind ourselves.

What kind of nasty joke is that to play on ourselves?

I saw a post in a parenting group the other day about a mother who had her first child 5 weeks ago.  She was still trying to cook, clean, take care of herself, her baby, and her significant other including massages for said significant other.  I have no idea if she worked.

But.  What. The. Ever. Living. HELL?!!!

You just grew a human being and then pushed said baby out of your vagina.  You don’t have to give massages.  Or clean your bathroom for that matter.  And it’s perfectly acceptable to survive off of cheese and crackers.  Cereal is totally fortified.  Consider it.  If your significant other doesn’t like that–he’s welcome to order pizza or make the kale smoothies.  You aren’t responsible for everything.

Because, let’s be honest here, the ideal life doesn’t exist.  No one has it.  No one.  Not without staff anyway.  If you have a personal shopper and a chef, by all means, carry on and on about how you and your kids love your kale and organic strawberry smoothie every day.  But for me and my house–we eat Wendy’s.  Sometimes we eat cantaloupe, cheese, crackers, and lunch meat.  I don’t make sandwiches anymore.  The kids just eat the meat and cheese off.  So why pretend?

Why pretend that we’re perfect?  Why pretend that everything is okay?

I have a friend who is pregnant, gestationally diabetic, and dealing with serious health issues with her husband. I have a friend dealing with terrible anxiety.  Another dealing with both anxiety and depression.  I have a friend who has an autistic child and a child who has horrible anxiety.  That sweet thing is tiny and dealing with worse anxiety than I have.  I have a friend whose boyfriend is recognizing he has attachment issues.  One whose mom and grandma are having cancer scares at the same time.  I have a friend whose parents just divorced and it’s rough going.  A relative has terminal cancer and is leaving behind little children.  My mother has illnesses that no one has even heard of.  My sister struggles with infertility.  LIFE IS HARD.

Can’t we just admit that to ourselves?  LIFE IS HARD.

Why shoot for some impossible ideal?  Why worry and stress and expect more of ourselves that is reasonable to expect?  And why, for the love of all that is holy, WHY do we not admit that we can’t do it sometimes?  Why not just say–hey i’m struggling with depression right now, and I’m working on it?  Why not say, I have the stress poops, can’t sleep, can’t focus, and sometimes feel like I’m having a heart attack.  Stress is what is doing this to me and therefore I am 1) getting a doctor’s help and 2) expecting less than some perfect, impossible ideal from my life.

When I was going through these things one person told me that they didn’t want to have a mental health record so they weren’t going to get help.  What. The. Ever. Living. HELL?!??!    Why is society doing this to us?  Why are we doing this to ourselves?

As I was going through these trials this year, one person handed me a fast acting anxiety med when I was having a MOMENT and let me see the effect.  And thank God she did.  Because feeling like myself again for those 3 or 4 hours was heart-breaking and enlightening and just what I needed, and I wouldn’t have figured things out so quickly without her.

I don’t feel shame about having anxiety.  I object to the shame others might feel about theirs.  I object to a society that tells us we’re less if we have mental issues or physical issues or whatever it is for us.  I don’t feel shame about being frustrated with aspects of my life.  I have EVERY RIGHT to feel that way.  I don’t want those I love who struggle with depression to feel shame about it.  My son is on the attachment spectrum.  He has no reason to feel shame for his heart and mind having side-effects from the reality of his life.  The reality of his life demands and deserves those reactions.  Not even John Wayne was John Wayne.  And no one white knuckles the hard parts of life without side-effects.

You know what white-knuckling your life does?  It leads to sleeplessness, stress poops, lack of focus, depression, haunting worries, and–in my case–the inability to deal with other people’s bull crap.  My tolerance for other people’s crazy is low.  Now, I don’t mean anxiety or depression.  I mean the weird tricks and judgement we pull on each other.  You want to mom-judge me for eating Wendys?  Suck it.

You want to tell me my books aren’t good enough?  Suck it.

You want to make a snide comment about someone I love?  Suck it.

You want me to do something extra that I can not possible squeeze into my life and then get upset when I don’t?  SUCCCCCKKKKKK it.

There is no shame in being overwhelmed regardless of what the trigger in your life is.  You don’t have to have a mile long list.  It’s okay to be overwhelmed by school.  Or family.  Or any number of other things.  It’s okay to wear a button that says, leaving the house makes me want to puke.

But.  If you feel shame because you have attachment issues, or autism, or depression or whatever.

Stop it.  Stop it right now.

You’re okay.  It’s okay.  These are the side-effects of living.  Can we just make a deal?  I’ll try to be kind to you.  You try to be kind to me?  Let’s all just be nice humans.  Let’s stop expecting too much of ourselves.  Let’s stop seeking the perfect figures and perfect meals and perfect budgets and perfect cars.

My brand new van is a rolling trash heap / carrier of hoodies and school bedding.  Because if I don’t bring the laundry inside.  I don’t have to do it. And my arch nemesis is LAUNDRY.

But the mountains of clean and dirty clothes aside.  How about if we just stop judging each other.  Let’s start supporting each other.  Let’s not be afraid to say to someone, I can see you’re overwhelmed right now.  It’s okay.  I am here for you as much as I can be and even when I can’t help you pick up your load, I am loving the shiz out of you.

You got on meds?  Good for you.  I hope they’re working well for you.

You need insulin?  Good for our for figuring it out.

You need your boobs chopped because of breast cancer, I will totally buy you cookies cause who has time to bake?  But I am here for you in all the ways I can be.

Why can’t these all have the same level of not-shame?

I am so very grateful to the person who was NOT ashamed of her anxiety.  Because without her, I might still be sleepless.  Without her, I might still be having to stop to stress poop before work every day.  Without her, I might still be staring off into the distance incapable of focusing on my dreams and the mountain of laundry and horror.  Without her, I might still be struggling with the little things in my life.  Because of her, I went to the doctor.  Because of her AND her willingness to speak up, I got the medication I needed and Thank God for it.

I am on Busprirone. I have named it Susy and it’s my BFF right now.  Because a few weeks of that drug and some rest and I feel like the Amanda of 5 years ago.  Before my life got so stressful.  And I really liked that Amanda.

I like this one too.  Because I am being a nice human.  Even to myself.

#noshame #considercereal

~Amanda

 

 

There she goes again…

So, I have gone off on the lack of female figures in Imaginext a time or two.

And I thought I was finally done.

I mean…what can you say? That I anxiously searched the Imaginext and Toy Fair 2016 hoping they’d finally release Batgirl and Supergirl? I did.  (As far as I can tell, they’re not.)

Can I say that I considered buying stupid overpriced Halloween Polly Pockets to get the heroes in the right size range for her that way? Cause I did.

Shall I tell you how I have been looking for Rey from the new Star Wars movie every single time I’ve gone to the store since I saw the movie? Cause that’s happened.

Why even bother telling you those stories? They ALL have the same theme. No heroes for my babygirl.

Until, that is this last Sunday. You see, I’d told my kids to go get toys before we left the house.

My son, as per usual, got a random assortment of Imaginext guys. My daughter was more particular. She got Robin—her favorite super hero. And several of the smaller My Little Ponies. Whereupon, as I heard her play while I wrapping things up before we left, you know what she was doing? She was sending her ponies and Robin on a quest for Starfire.

You see. She loves Teen Titans. Which is why she loves Robin. You can find Robin so… no problem. You can find Cyborg. But you can’t find either of the girls. Imaginext doesn’t make them. My daughter’s pretend play is a SEARCH FOR THE FEMALE HEROES.

This is where the headslamming began. Or continued. You choose. I have been, since I realized what she was doing, low-level furious.

Girls can be heroes.

Girls can do anything.

Girls should have heroes to play with if that’s what they love. One of my girls loves babies, and we have the baby stuff. The other loves to get on the floor with big brother and play with action figures. And, despite the new line of DC Super Hero girls that are FINALLY being released, they don’t have the one my baby loves. And even though we will buy every single one of those heroes, they’re not the small action figure size that my baby loves.

My son can have and has every single random male hero he desires. My daughter’s loves are, however, unfillable.

And that pisses me off.

~Amanda

Sometimes

Sometimes live is just hard.  

Sometimes despite knowing, intellectually, how blessed you are–it is still JUST HARD.

And I could go on.

The truth is that I’ve been having a really hard time lately.  And that I know, intellectually, that I need to be counting my blessings.  And I do.  But it doesn’t change the allure of my bed, and the frustration that I feel, and the reality that I am Just.So.Very.Sick&Tired of some of the bullcrap of my life.

And it is so very possible to be tired of the bullcrap while also being grateful for the magnitude of your blessings.  And it is so very possible to be grateful and FRUSTRATED at the same time.

The reality of the nature of life and existence seems to be one of struggle.

And I am struggling.

But as I have said this to others, I have realized how many of us feel the same.  And I just want you to know that you aren’t alone.  I am struggling too.

And it’s okay that we are.

Everything is going to be okay.  We’re gonna make it.

And until then….there’s cake.

~Amanda

2016–

To be perfectly honest I find the entire idea of 2016 terrifying.  I’m not sure I can make goals for it in a “2016” kind of way.  Because, for the love of all that is holy, how is it even the 2000s at all?  Let alone passing into the late teens of this century?

And if we’re being perfectly honest, there is so much undone in my life that the younger me would be saddened to know has not happened.

But then again, when I look back at 12-year-old me, my wants were very simple and sure, some of them haven’t happened.  But this did.

Which was the biggest and most fervent of my wants.  I wanted a family.  And when I look at my daughters and my son, I find that not only do I have family, I am astounded by the magnitude of the blessing each of them are. They are so perfect for each other and for me.

And really, this happened:

And for years and years I didn’t even let myself *really* dream of writing because I didn’t think I could do it.

I am writing this post off the cuff…just random thoughts as I force myself to recognize that time is, in fact, passing and just what I want to do about that.  I’m LDS and I was raised by a group of people who teach goal setting.  I rarely accomplish my goals, but I do often try and–in trying–I improve.  I get closer to where I want to be even if I fall short of the end goal.

When I look at the goals I have for 2016 some are really beyond my control.  Do I want to live off of my writing?  Yes, obviously.  But I also don’t have any control over that other than to continue to write and trust that with time it will happen.  Do I want my children to be healthy and happy?  Yes, of course.

Do I want to spend more time playing and cherishing them and less doing those endless tasks like laundry and vacuuming?  Yes, obviously.

But I also want to be kinder.  I want to be more successful.  I want to be more organized so that I have more time to play with my kids.  I want to be many things and some of those things won’t happen and some will.  I want to spend less time worrying about money and space and more time worrying about goodness.

I am going to publish several, I hope many, books next year.  I am going to play Elsa and Anna and Batman and Robin with the kids and when I do, the dinosaurs are absolutely going to attack the ice palace and make Anna and Kristoff join forces with Batman and Robin and maybe even, Maleficent, to save the day.

So, yes, I have some things that are bothering me in my heart.  Yes, I have some really big and unexpected choices to make in the next few months.  And yes, my end goal is the same–to love my children and raise them to be good while being better myself.  Will I try to lose weight next year?  Sure, won’t most of the U.S?  What a blessing to live in a world where our trouble is the excess of food rather than the lack of it.  What a great blessing to live in a country where children are generally safe.  What a great blessing to be able to set goals in the comfort of my home on a couch I will probably replace because I am lucky enough to be able to do things like replace my furniture and get my hair dyed and buy too many toys for my children.

So…yes…I am setting goals.  And doing the best I can.  I am grateful for the blessings I have been given in a way that makes it difficult for me to not realize those blessings as I seek to improve our situation regardless.

Amanda

PS Who even reads anymore?  Doesn’t the whole world just work and fold laundry?  That’s all there is to life right?  Right?? Right!

M-m-m-mad mad mad…

Sometimes I set goals for myself that are totally insane.  Crazy even.  Like, for example, publishing the following books:

Coming soon and first is Bewitched Murder.  This story uncovers just what happened to Gallery Guy’s wife in the most unexpected of ways.  You’ll soon see that there is far more to the world of  Witchcraft on Sage Island than even Ingrid and Emily could guess.  It will arrive on your Kindle or Kindle app on December 30 and is available for pre-order now!

Presidium Vignettes.  In this duo of shorts, the beginning of new series will be introduced that spinoff for both Auburn and myself from the Inept Witches series.  My story will center in Ingrid as she attempts to avoid her mother discovering just how messy she’s let her life become.  These stories are now available for preorder for a mere $0.99.  And will be released on January 29, 2016. (HOLY MOSES WHEN DID 2015 EVEN HAPPEN? LET ALONE GETTING TO 2016?)

The new series which is only hinted at in Ingrid vs Her Mom will arrive a month later and is about Autumn’s daughter Veruca Jones.  This book is also available for pre-order now!   And will be released on Feb 26, 2016.

The final book to arrive in the next few months is also available for pre-order!  It’s the first of the books to occur when Ingrid and Emily leave behind Sage Island to escape the murder and mayhem for international shoes and wine.  And…murder.  Get yours here.  I’m pretty excited about this one.  Surely it makes my eventual trip to Prague a tax deduction.  Right?  Right?   This one will be out on March 18, 2016.

And sure, Snow White is still coming.  If I hadn’t already set it up, there would be a pre-order.  But yes…it’ll be a surprise when it finally arrives.  SURPRISE, I finally wrapped it up.  It’s only been like 99% done for MONTHS.  But obviously the witches series took over.

Before you decide that I should be committed.  These are already mostly done or you know…something like that.

Any Muse fans out there?  That is the title of this blog post and also the song I am currently listening to as I work on…none of the above books.  The right song right?  For this writing?  Haunted Wonderland has its own play list on my phone and that is the one that seems to fit the moment best.  Listen to the song and get a little feel for the book that I should not be working on as I “wrap up” the above instead.

~Amanda

If you were wondering if I went to Amazon to figure out my own pre-order dates, you’d be right.  It’s possible I search my books on the Kindle app to remember just what I named who and what the color of my own character’s eyes are.  How did people even write before technology?

Books, murder, and babies…

I mean…here are some facts.  You know that the adoption went through this month.  While it was supposedly happening, and I was having a hard time believing it was going to happen, I just went ahead and wrote a book or two.  Honestly, writing is sometimes therapy as much as storytelling.  So you’ll know when you read Haunted Wonderland which, I hope, will be out early next year, that I spent some of the Fall angry.  (Not angry about the adoption btws.  That makes me happy.)

Like really, super, slaughter everyone angry.  Since killing people is illegal.  And I was trying to adopt my kids (they frown on murder), I just went ahead and killed fictional people instead.  In a pretty bloody way.  So…what I’m saying here is if you don’t want to read about a mouse exploding out of a monster’s eye to kill it–then you probably don’t want to pick up Haunted Wonderland.  Fair warning, etc.  At some point, I’ll have a cover.  Hopefully a bloody one.  That way readers will know in advance this book isn’t sweet like Compelled by Love or fanciful like Song of Sorrow.

Also, it turns and that me and Auburn, my most frequent writing partner/ partner in crime / the person I would call should I actually need to murder someone and bury a body went ahead and wrote another book or two.  I’m not sure if I even told you about Moonlight Murder, but if I didn’t.  Book 2 of Inept Witches was published…like October?  Look, I can’t keep track of these things.  Also, we wrote Bewitched Murder, because who writes just one book?  I mean…slackers.  That’s who.  Slackers.  And sane people.

Now what I do know about Bewitched is that someone dies.  That’s clear by the title, in my opinion.  And that someone’s death makes Ingrid and Emily feel feels.  The type of feels that makes them “helpful.”   Shenanigans ensue.  It’ll be out on the 30th of December.

While I’m confessing things, I can just go ahead and admit that I never kept my “Pinky Swear” wherein I promised myself to finished my Works in Progress.  There’s a fair chance if I could actually finish those that you might see this baby in the next month or two.

And you know…this one:

And you know…a spin-off of The Inept Witches.  It’s about Rue that cow-dove, Autumn’s daughter.  It’s currently titled Hallow Graves and is the beginning of a new murder mystery series.  It turns out the general public likes to read about death and murder and irritating witches who stumble through investigating things that they should just leave alone.

So…there’s that.  That’s the update.  I’m writing like 5 books right now that are almost done or close to done or something like that.  You know completely edited and just need to be wrapped up like my buddy, Snow, up there.  Then there’s this one that is close:

And this one that has a full arc, but I want to expand upon the story line.  Plus I’ve decided to slide one in between Rose and Beauty because who WRITES JUST ONE BOOK?  Or even just a trilogy?  Slackers and sane people!

I have killed someone in all of the above books.  Apparently, Auburn Seal has rubbed off on me.  I might kill someone tonight in my writing.  Probably I will, I’m feeling sassy.

~Amanda

ps, I’m not reading jack right now and my book challenge has been lost in all the death.

Sometimes…

…there just aren’t the words.

This was adoption day.

I had gotten to the point where I never thought it would happen.  980 days and 537 days after entering foster care–nearly all of my daughters’ lives and far too much of my son’s, they’re mine.  I still don’t believe it happened.

The feelings are unbelievably complicated.  There is utter and perfect joy.  There is this sneaking satisfaction that it is OVER.  It’s sneaking because you can’t believe it.  And then the realization flows over you and it is amazing.  And then you forget only to remember again.  It’s like realizing you’re done with college but a thousand, million times better.

These have been the hardest, most horrible, most devastating, most wonderful times of my life.  There aren’t words for what it is like to be a foster parent.  It is so damn horrible.  And then you know you would do it again.  Even if we are just talking about the first two I fostered and who left, (leaving me broken), I’d do it again.  In a second.  For them.  Because I love them.  It was worth the pain to see them and their mother get better.  There just aren’t words.  If you know a foster parent, you give them a hug.  They are carrying burdens you can not possibly understand if you haven’t done it yourself.

But there are more feelings that just satisfaction after adoption.  There is sorrow.  Sorrow for their first mom–I can’t help but love her.  She brought these beautiful children into the world, she loved them, and she had to let them go.  She didn’t want to, and it’ll never stop being a tragedy for her.  I am so sorry for that.  I know it’s not my fault, but that doesn’t change my sorrow for her pain.

A friend of mine and I were talking recently.  We’re both adoptive moms.  And as such–we both experience a feeling that I call the “jackalness.”  It’s the realization that your joy, your prayers, your happiness, your dreams, they all come at the expense of another person.  We talked of the desire to have children the traditional way.  Not, of course, because we would love that “biological” child any more.  I honestly don’t think it’s possible to love any being more than I love my little ones.  They’re such miracles.  I don’t have the words.

But that’s beside the point.  The point is that in having children the traditional way–you get a gift that you don’t even realize is yours. I have a few pregnant friends right now.  I hope you can take a moment to recognize that you get something that adoptive moms don’t get.  You get the chance to have unfettered joy.  (It isn’t that it will happen that way every time.  Lives and children and marriage and love and reproduction–it’s complicated.  There are lots of feelings.  And lots of circumstances.)  But the right circumstances–the ones with unfettered joy–they always include a couple who loves each other and who are bringing into the world a child who is desired and adored.

Adopted children are desired and adored.

Obviously.

But…they are not desired and adored without the realization that someone else grieves.  That is the fetter.  It doesn’t matter if the birth mother decided before birth to give up the child for adoption, it doesn’t matter if the birth mother abandoned the baby.  It doesn’t matter if child protective services stepped in and other things happened.  They grieve.   There might be other feelings.  But I am absolutely certain there is grief.

And with this adoption, there is joy. JOY.   There is this realization that my prayers were answered.  They were answered.  There is in this realization that in answering my prayers God showed me that He loves me.  He loves Amanda.  I don’t know why my prayers were the ones that were answered.  I expect that part is complicated too.  But as I look at my sweet babies, I am astounded at the level of blessing I have been given.  I think back to my life pre-child and I wonder how I was ever happy when it was so empty.  I work my butt off right now. I literally work from the moment I wake until I sleep.  I am so tired.  And I wouldn’t have it any other way.  If you don’t have a child, you don’t know this feeling.  When you become a parent, a good one, you’re like the grinch.  Your heart grows in size and depth.  The ability to love changes you.  It changes the feel of your heart in your chest.  I know that people who choose to be childless or who can not have children might be rolling their eyes at me.  That’s okay.  You either get this feeling or you don’t.  But if you’re one of the ones who have had a child and had your heart change and grow and deepen and become a sun within your chest with love so hot and wonderful it sometimes hurts, then you get me.

I am so thankful.  I can’t even believe how thankful I am.  I feel like I could kneel every moment of every day in gratitude and it would never be enough.  I am so, so, wordlessly grateful.  I don’t have the words to express my gratitude to my Father in Heaven.  I am glad that God knows all things for He knows them how grateful I am for the children and blessings I have been given.

So, it happened.  I think I might always be astounded at what I have been given.  I think I might always have this sneaking, shocking, wonder as I look at these children and recognize that I am just so blessed that I don’t even have the words.

 

~Amanda

*If you like our family photo and are in town, check out:  www.novembersun.com  She takes excellent photos and was kind enough to do our adoption day photos for free.

 

Moonlight Murder

Here’s the thing about writing a book.  It is super fun, horrible, super fun, terrible, fun, okay.  So frustrating.  Something that keeps you up at night.  Something that makes you do your dishes just so you don’t have to stare at that scene again.  Except…

Except this one:

Writing with that Jezebel, Auburn Seal, is truly fun.  This story grew out of the joke of who’d you call to help you bury a body.  Ingrid and Emily are as lazy as I wish I could be–even when they’re trying to avoid murder charges.  In this story:

Emily and Ingrid are determined to master only enough magic to get by, but a moonlight ritual goes terribly wrong and they find themselves at the center of yet another murder investigation on Sage Island.

To prevent more murders–their own–they put on their big girl witch panties, arm themselves with truth serum and coffee, and break into a home or two.

Accompanied by unwanted ghosts, magic they can barely use, and a determination to hide their incompetence they attempt to survive yet another murder.

Perhaps they shouldn’t have so much fun when they’re facing jail time. But they do!

If you want to read an absolutely frivolous story about two people who find themselves burying a body in the woods and the hi-jinx that follow, this might be the story for you.  Not only is it up for pre-order, but the third book in the series should be out in December as well!  Click here to get your copy.  For the first book in this series, click here.

~Amanda

ps–I’m not reading anything right now!  But I’m writing a lot and wrapping up several stories.  I expect that I’ll get out Snow White this year (FINALLY), Persuaded to Love (the 3rd Kendawyn adventure), Bewitched Murder (the 3rd Inept Witches), but possibly also a new book, Haunted Alice (which is almost as crazy as me!).  This is not nearly as insane as it sounds as 1/2 of this has been done forever and just needs to be finished up.

Covers for Bewitched Murder and Haunted Alice coming sometime…before they get published.  :)

Rage bucket and other such nonsensical things…

Imaginext is is a big deal at our house.  My kids LOVE the figures.  They play with them 80% of the time they play.  They tuck them into their pockets.  They bring them in the car for a drive.   We have, no joke, a basket full of them.

Here’s the problem.  I have 1 son and 2 daughters.

Look at that picture above.  Where is the girl?  Now, my daughter LOVES Batman.  So, she hasn’t noticed yet that the girls are severely lacking.  Except Wonder Woman, here they are:

Well what is that you see there? Oh…villains?  Cat Woman is, I suppose, perhaps an anti-hero.  Or an occasional villain. This isn’t a new rant for me.  What set me off this time?  The newest female addition to the DC lineup:

Do you not recognize her?  Oh that’s because she’s a totally obscure villain.  Other than seeing her in the Justice League cartoon before I yanked it from my kids, I didn’t know who she was.  So…I wiki’d her.  Apparently she’s the arch-nemesis of Wonder Woman.

Where is Batgirl?  Where is Supergirl?  I would buy the SHIZ out of those!  Now lets be clear– my son plays with boys and girls.  My daughters play with girls and boys.  No one cares about the sex of the character.  But I care that the heroes my daughters and son would love are not available to them.  Here are some suggestions I found in 4.2 seconds of googling:

Mera

Black Canary

Batgirl

Lois Lane

Lady Frankenstein

Wonder Girl

Raven

Starfire

Blackfire

Hawkgirl

Arrowette

Stargirl

Mary Marvel

Liberty Belle

Huntress

Zatana

Bumblee Bee

Fire and Ice

Supergirl (OBVIOUSLY)

Come one Fisher Price.  If you can make obscure female villains, surely you can make the heroes we actually know and love?

TAKE MY MONEY……..

~Amanda