I've been having the hum-drums lately. That's when I feel kind of moody and blah, and no matter what, I can't shake it off. I can't write a thing when I'm feeling that way. Sometimes I have to wait for it to pass, and sometimes I can pull myself out of it. I woke up yesterday thinking it would just be one more day to tack on to the blah week I'd been having.
I had no idea.
Sometime around three am one of the kids crawled in bed with us and proceeded to cough all over me. I finally told the child to go get back in his own bed because I couldn't sleep with all that commotion. He left, but I never could go back to sleep because my oldest son had a field trip, and I had to wake him up by 4:30 to get him to the school by 5:00. Kid 1 got dressed in a flash and sat down to eat his bowl of cereal I'd poured for him. After about three bites he told me he was full. I told him to keep eating or he'd regret it in an hour. He took two more bites and said he was full. I just laughed. How could I not feel his excitement?
I realized on the drive to the school that we'd forgotten to say a prayer. When we pulled up, parents and students were pouring in. The light in our van flicked on causing everyone outside to be able to see us like we were on a stage, but my son didn't even hesitate to bow his head and fold his arms. He sat there, steadily still, as I prayed for his safety, and the safety of all who would be on the field trip.
I hugged him, handed him off to his teacher, and headed home. I crawled back in bed, hoping to get some good sleep, but all I got were dreams full of my kids dying and bad guys taking over the house. I forgot about the weirdness two seconds after I woke up.
Kids to school and then visiting teaching. I'm not a great visiting teacher unless I've got a companion who is very responsible. I don't right now. She's a great girl who is less active and we haven't been very good lately. For the first time in a long time, I knelt down before I left and said a prayer. I prayed that I wouldn't be a dork and say something I might regret later (sometimes things just eject from my mouth without any thought). My companion gave a beautiful, well-prepared lesson about Deiter Uchtdorf's talk on Patience. She said that sometimes patience means not saying the thing you want to say, but loving people in spite of their current behavior. Boy did I need that. As my toddler and I walked back home on a perfectly beautiful spring day, I thought about the lesson and what a difference it had made to pray before going.
As soon as I got home, one of my very good writer friends came over to eat lunch with me. Her four year old son gave a touching blessing on the food and we dug into delicious homemade mexican food. She and I hashed out some of our insecurities and buoyed each other up and basically what we determined was that WE were the only people who could have the final say in what we should leave in a story and what we should change. It was good to take back that power.
I put my toddler down for a nap and went downstairs to fold a mountainous pile of laundry. But guess what? I still have that pile of laundry because instead, I got on the computer and read almost my entire WIP. And you know what? I realized I am so in love with my story.
I picked my two middle kids up from school (with my toddler, of course) and watched them both as they played with two other kids who came over for a play-date. Little kids are so entertaining.
My husband was gone the whole day, baling hay for my aged father who went on the field trip with my oldest son. So I was thinking we'd just have cereal for dinner, because who wants to cook for the pickiest kids on earth? Not me? But my daughter suggested we make scones. But not just any scones. The puffy fried kind. With Marshmallow cream and chocolate chips inside. So that's what we did. We ate them and, then we all snuggled up on the couch and watched a movie.
As the sun faded, I was feeling pretty light for the first time in a few weeks. I was feeling peaceful. Buoyant. Happy. We put the toddler down and turned on a Primary Lullaby's cd. The one that has a song by Mindy Gledhill. Kid 2 and 3 crawled up next to me on my king sized bed--flanking me on either side, and listened as I read to them. My eyes darted to the right, and I saw a firefly outside of our window. A firefly. The first one of the season. Any of you that don't have fireflies where you live, I'm sorry for you. They are tiny spots of magic in the dark night. One more way that Heavenly Father shows us that he loves us and wants us to be happy. My kids jumped up and pulled the curtains all the way open and then we realized, the fireflies were everywhere. Hundreds of them flashed out in our neighbors field and across our yard.
The garage door opened and hubby was home. The kids ran into the kitchen to tell him what we'd discovered. I lay in the bed, exhausted from being up since 3 am (minus my fifteen minutes of sleep that produced those funky dreams) and stared out at the flashing bugs.
Kid number three runs back into the room after a few minutes and says, "Come on, Mom! Dad's home. We're having a party!" So I hopped up and joined the fun. My kids should have been in bed. It was almost ten o'clock, but we sat on the couch playing hang man on hubby's Ipod Touch. Making up phrases for the kids to figure out like, "You're beautiful," and "I love you so much."
Finally we all crawled into bed, and I thought of my oldest son. He'd gone home with his grandparent's after the field trip. I wasn't sad that he'd missed our magical day, because I knew he'd had one of his own. He went to Jamestown, and bought a toy rifle and then went back to the farm with my parents, which is a magical place in and of itself. I knew he was happy. I just knew.
Yesterday should have been a normal day but it wasn't. I didn't do anything spectacular or amazing. Actually, I was kind of lazy. The difference, I think, was that I prayed a lot, and I looked for the positive. And I found it. Anger I'd been feeling dissipated, and that peace I was looking for took over. I didn't need something huge. Just me and my family curled up together, my heart pounding in my chest, my lungs pushing air out and pulling more in, my eyes seeing beauty all around me, and my mind thinking peaceful thoughts.
I hope I have another day like that very soon, and I hope all of you do to.
About Me
I’ve always loved telling stories. My favorite is the one where I sent the wrong letter to the right missionary. We were married the next summer. I attended LDS Business College where I earned an Associate’s in Computer Technology and Brigham Young University where I should have majored in English. I live in a small town nestled in the heart of the Appalachians. When I’m not busy writing, I can be found baking cookies, going to the movies, helping with the homework or catching fireflies with my handsome husband and four adorable children.
Friday, May 28, 2010
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
My Work In Progress
I decided it was time to start a new book. I'm on page six and I'm already loving it. That is such a great feeling.
It's a book about handling gossip, pornography, and loving people who disappoint you.
What are you working on right now? (It doesn't have to be writing stuff. I'd love to know what my non-writer friends are doing, too.)
It's a book about handling gossip, pornography, and loving people who disappoint you.
What are you working on right now? (It doesn't have to be writing stuff. I'd love to know what my non-writer friends are doing, too.)
Wednesday, May 12, 2010
We are Virginia Tech
Bryan and I were curled up on our leather sofa the other night, watching the 2010 Y awards. For those of you who don't what that is, it's a sports award show they do every year at BYU. And FYI, we were only watching because there was nothing better on t.v. at that time. Because those of you who know Bry and I, also know that we don't love sports. Not the kind on t.v. anyway.
So, we're watching and someone gets up and says, "We are BYU." It's written up on the screen, too. Bryan and I turned to look at each other, each cocked an eyebrow, and said, "I know they didn't just say that."
About three years ago, I was laying on my couch in the middle of the day, because the previous evening I had hemorrhaged badly and I was seriously lacking blood. I was pregnant and somehow miraculously, I didn't lose the baby, so some serious bed-rest was necessary. My mom was puttering around the kitchen doing all those things I couldn't do just then. I can't remember what I was watching or how it happened, but somehow I found out that there had been at shooting on the campus of Virginia Tech.
Let me preface the rest of my story by saying, Blacksburg, VA, is not the kind of place where shootings happen yet this was the second one in less than a year. So I perked up. I watched the news, only to find out an hour or so later that a shooter had killed 32 other people on campus, before taking his own life.
My husband was on campus.
I wasn't worried. His school was nowhere near the main part of campus, and the chances of him being on that part where the shootings had occurred were nonexistent. But I couldn't stop watching. When something like that happens in your town, it's earth-shaking. Bryan called me a little later and told me he was locked in his school, watching all the cop cars from the library window. He came home later and everything was fine. Turns out that he and the kids got the rest of the week off from school.
The shooter, a college boy, was disturbed. Obviously. He ended up killing mostly students, but also a few professors.
A few days later (maybe longer, I can't remember) there was a memorial or some kind of event that was televised, where professors and administrators of the university spoke. One lady--I can't remember her name--got up and gave a rallying speech about what a great university and study body we had here. And at the end she said very resolutely, "We are Virginia Tech!"
That became our war cry here in B'burg/C'burg. Pretty soon everyone had shirts that said, "We are Virginia Tech." They were everywhere, and I mean EVERYWHERE. For a while, when I would go out to run errands, it seemed that about eighty percent of everyone I saw had one of these shirts on. We were all united. Hokies United. We'd all witnessed this tragedy and struggled through. It was rough.
Here's where it gets kind of cool.
That Sunday was stake conference for the Pembroke Stake. That covers everyone in this area. I shouldn't have gone to that conference. I was still bleeding and hurting, but I knew that Elder David Bednar was going to be there. We'd all known that for months. So I told Bryan I wanted to go anyway. I could barely walk, but I had to go. I had to hear what he said about this tragedy.
We stepped into the hallway of the stake center, which was packed, but something was different. I looked to my left and there was a super long line. And at the beginning was Elder Bednar. He was shaking everyone's hands. It seemed that everyone needed to touch that apostle. I didn't get a chance, because literally, I had to sit down. But that sight touched me anyway.
Our Stake President spoke first. He told us that his office (he's a professor) was located in the same building where the shootings occurred, and that he was indeed there when it happened. He was locked in his office and a fog came over him to the point that he was kind of dazed. His colleague took off to the floor below to help out because they could clearly hear bullets flying and popping off the concrete walls. His colleague was killed.
I thought it odd that our Stake President didn't go too, but then he told us. "I would have gone, if the Spirit had told me too. Without a doubt." But he said he was literally in a zone that he couldn't shake loose from. As a matter of fact, he was on the phone with an Area authority, finalizing Elder Bednar's travel plans. Our S.P. saw someone jump out of a second story window and crawl across the lawn. It was one of the wounded survivors. But Heavenly Father protected our S.P. by clouding over his mind.
When Elder Bednar got up, he told us that he had visited our campus and that he knew that since the keys of the priesthood had now been on the campus ( I believed he blessed it, too) that we would see a major healing begin. The part I love was this--he told us that his trip had been planned seven months in advance, but that we should see the hand of God. We almost never get a member of the Twelve here for Stake Conference. It's usually an area authority, but not an Apostle. So to have him there, that very week, was a miracle indeed.
I am amazed by Heavenly Father's power and omniscience. He sent help when we needed it. He sent healing, and kindness, and love. And we all felt it that day.
People were so kind to each other after that event. They united over and over to remember the victims who were killed. No one has forgotten. It was truly a tragedy. A tragedy that brought a town closer together and changed lives forever.
A few weeks later, we lost our baby. I came very close to death in the process. I should have died. The doctor even said so, but Heavenly Father stepped in and my live was saved. Our family rallied after that event. Just as the students, faculty, and staff did after the shootings.
This Friday night, I have the privilege of sitting, with my miracle baby, Adelaide, on my lap, in Lane Stadium as I watch my husband march in wearing his maroon, black, and grey robes. I will also be sitting in a stadium of students, spouses, and families that witnessed this tragedy. They are the last class that will graduate that was here on the campus when the shootings occurred.
I feel honored to sit with them.
I have to believe that BYU wasn't trying to be flippant by stealing our motto. I hope they understand what that motto means to us, and they too want to be as united as we are.
We are Virginia Tech.
So, we're watching and someone gets up and says, "We are BYU." It's written up on the screen, too. Bryan and I turned to look at each other, each cocked an eyebrow, and said, "I know they didn't just say that."
About three years ago, I was laying on my couch in the middle of the day, because the previous evening I had hemorrhaged badly and I was seriously lacking blood. I was pregnant and somehow miraculously, I didn't lose the baby, so some serious bed-rest was necessary. My mom was puttering around the kitchen doing all those things I couldn't do just then. I can't remember what I was watching or how it happened, but somehow I found out that there had been at shooting on the campus of Virginia Tech.
Let me preface the rest of my story by saying, Blacksburg, VA, is not the kind of place where shootings happen yet this was the second one in less than a year. So I perked up. I watched the news, only to find out an hour or so later that a shooter had killed 32 other people on campus, before taking his own life.
My husband was on campus.
I wasn't worried. His school was nowhere near the main part of campus, and the chances of him being on that part where the shootings had occurred were nonexistent. But I couldn't stop watching. When something like that happens in your town, it's earth-shaking. Bryan called me a little later and told me he was locked in his school, watching all the cop cars from the library window. He came home later and everything was fine. Turns out that he and the kids got the rest of the week off from school.
The shooter, a college boy, was disturbed. Obviously. He ended up killing mostly students, but also a few professors.
A few days later (maybe longer, I can't remember) there was a memorial or some kind of event that was televised, where professors and administrators of the university spoke. One lady--I can't remember her name--got up and gave a rallying speech about what a great university and study body we had here. And at the end she said very resolutely, "We are Virginia Tech!"
That became our war cry here in B'burg/C'burg. Pretty soon everyone had shirts that said, "We are Virginia Tech." They were everywhere, and I mean EVERYWHERE. For a while, when I would go out to run errands, it seemed that about eighty percent of everyone I saw had one of these shirts on. We were all united. Hokies United. We'd all witnessed this tragedy and struggled through. It was rough.
Here's where it gets kind of cool.
That Sunday was stake conference for the Pembroke Stake. That covers everyone in this area. I shouldn't have gone to that conference. I was still bleeding and hurting, but I knew that Elder David Bednar was going to be there. We'd all known that for months. So I told Bryan I wanted to go anyway. I could barely walk, but I had to go. I had to hear what he said about this tragedy.
We stepped into the hallway of the stake center, which was packed, but something was different. I looked to my left and there was a super long line. And at the beginning was Elder Bednar. He was shaking everyone's hands. It seemed that everyone needed to touch that apostle. I didn't get a chance, because literally, I had to sit down. But that sight touched me anyway.
Our Stake President spoke first. He told us that his office (he's a professor) was located in the same building where the shootings occurred, and that he was indeed there when it happened. He was locked in his office and a fog came over him to the point that he was kind of dazed. His colleague took off to the floor below to help out because they could clearly hear bullets flying and popping off the concrete walls. His colleague was killed.
I thought it odd that our Stake President didn't go too, but then he told us. "I would have gone, if the Spirit had told me too. Without a doubt." But he said he was literally in a zone that he couldn't shake loose from. As a matter of fact, he was on the phone with an Area authority, finalizing Elder Bednar's travel plans. Our S.P. saw someone jump out of a second story window and crawl across the lawn. It was one of the wounded survivors. But Heavenly Father protected our S.P. by clouding over his mind.
When Elder Bednar got up, he told us that he had visited our campus and that he knew that since the keys of the priesthood had now been on the campus ( I believed he blessed it, too) that we would see a major healing begin. The part I love was this--he told us that his trip had been planned seven months in advance, but that we should see the hand of God. We almost never get a member of the Twelve here for Stake Conference. It's usually an area authority, but not an Apostle. So to have him there, that very week, was a miracle indeed.
I am amazed by Heavenly Father's power and omniscience. He sent help when we needed it. He sent healing, and kindness, and love. And we all felt it that day.
People were so kind to each other after that event. They united over and over to remember the victims who were killed. No one has forgotten. It was truly a tragedy. A tragedy that brought a town closer together and changed lives forever.
A few weeks later, we lost our baby. I came very close to death in the process. I should have died. The doctor even said so, but Heavenly Father stepped in and my live was saved. Our family rallied after that event. Just as the students, faculty, and staff did after the shootings.
This Friday night, I have the privilege of sitting, with my miracle baby, Adelaide, on my lap, in Lane Stadium as I watch my husband march in wearing his maroon, black, and grey robes. I will also be sitting in a stadium of students, spouses, and families that witnessed this tragedy. They are the last class that will graduate that was here on the campus when the shootings occurred.
I feel honored to sit with them.
I have to believe that BYU wasn't trying to be flippant by stealing our motto. I hope they understand what that motto means to us, and they too want to be as united as we are.
We are Virginia Tech.
Saturday, May 8, 2010
Changes
It's funny how I can go weeks without anything to say and then BAM, it all comes rushing into my brain. (Don't worry, I've got a good one for tomorrow, too. :-)
Last night I had the pleasure of attending Spring Fling for Belview Elementary where three of my kids attend school. Mrs. B., the principal, walks up and asks me the question of the hour.
"Did you guys decide if you're moving or staying?"
"No," I tell her.
(Ha! Gotcha! You probably thought you were going to get the scoop by reading this post didn't you? Well, I'm not talking about those kinds of changes, yet. Maybe tomorrow.)
Then I said, "Hey, I heard you guys (meaning the school and it's teachers) just won the Panasonic National Change Award for 2010! Congratulations!"
Of course she's beaming, because this is a very, very big deal. Only six schools in the entire nation were given this honor and tiny little Belivew was one of them. That's big stuff.
But I have to ask, "So what does that mean?"
She goes on to tell me that to win, they had to document all the changes that they've been through in the last four years.
Let me tell you what this school was like when we moved here.
My husband and I bought our house because it was in a nice starter home community full of other young families. We knew it would be a great place for our kids to live and grow, and to make friends. And it has been. However, I didn't even think to check the scores of the school they would be attending. I just assumed (and you know what happens when you assume ;-) that every school here had great scores since we are located smack dab in the middle of two very large universities.
I was an idiot.
The school we'd just moved from wasn't fully accredited, so when I saw that Belview wasn't either, I was practically hyperventilating. I prayed fast and hard, since the school year was immediately upon us. Should I sacrifice my child to this school or drive him to Blacksburg to a very good school, everyday? The parent pick up, was a joke. I was also worried about the lack of security. The playground was falling apart. And then there was the ever present worry of their SOL scores. One in every four students has at least one parent in jail. Anyway, you get the point.
I really was on the verge of yanking my kid out and taking him somewhere else.
So I prayed.
I'd never told anyone that before, but I told Mrs. B that last night, because she knows I'm religious, and so is she.
I said, "I had this feeling that instead of abandoning the school like everyone else (because many people were), I should see how I could help."
Mrs. B. nodded. She remembered, I'm sure, the day that I sat down and listed off my concerns. I went in armed and ready for a fight, but instead I was met with compassion and someone thrilled that a parent actually wanted to make the school better. I was immediately asked to be on the School Improvement team.
Basically, Belview has rocked out the past four years.
Last night, Mrs. B. and I stood side by side, watching as all the kids, and their families, swarmed the playground, running here and there, jumping on a moon bounce, eating popcorn and pizza, getting their faces painted, playing carnival games. All on an enormous red, yellow and blue playground that has been newly refurbished and added onto. Twice.
Things we couldn't see from the outside were bouncing off our lips as we pointed out to each other the improvements.
-Fully accrediated
-Smartboards in every room
-A rockin' parent pick up. (This was my baby. I talked them into paving over their dumpy old basketball court and turning it into a parking lot. Don't worry, they have a new basketball court)
-No graffiti beneath the kindergarten classroom entrance.
-And most importantly, kids who are wicked smart. So smart the Title 1 teacher told me there wasn't a single kid in Emma's class who needed her help.
The coolest thing-my son got a perfect score on the Math SOL last year. You heard me right. Perfect. And somebody taught him how to work all those problems. And we all know it wasn't me, because me and Math are not best friends. I'm a writer, remember?
So I asked her what they get for winning the award. "$5000 dollars in money or Panasonic prizes. National recognition." She and some other teachers get to go to NY to receive the award from the Secretary of Education. And she'll be interviewed on the news.
And I'll be watching, from my couch. Whether that is in C'burg or Evanston, Wyoming, I'm not sure. But it doesn't matter because I know that change is a good thing, and I'll always know that Belview Elementary is one less place I have to worry about.
Last night I had the pleasure of attending Spring Fling for Belview Elementary where three of my kids attend school. Mrs. B., the principal, walks up and asks me the question of the hour.
"Did you guys decide if you're moving or staying?"
"No," I tell her.
(Ha! Gotcha! You probably thought you were going to get the scoop by reading this post didn't you? Well, I'm not talking about those kinds of changes, yet. Maybe tomorrow.)
Then I said, "Hey, I heard you guys (meaning the school and it's teachers) just won the Panasonic National Change Award for 2010! Congratulations!"
Of course she's beaming, because this is a very, very big deal. Only six schools in the entire nation were given this honor and tiny little Belivew was one of them. That's big stuff.
But I have to ask, "So what does that mean?"
She goes on to tell me that to win, they had to document all the changes that they've been through in the last four years.
Let me tell you what this school was like when we moved here.
My husband and I bought our house because it was in a nice starter home community full of other young families. We knew it would be a great place for our kids to live and grow, and to make friends. And it has been. However, I didn't even think to check the scores of the school they would be attending. I just assumed (and you know what happens when you assume ;-) that every school here had great scores since we are located smack dab in the middle of two very large universities.
I was an idiot.
The school we'd just moved from wasn't fully accredited, so when I saw that Belview wasn't either, I was practically hyperventilating. I prayed fast and hard, since the school year was immediately upon us. Should I sacrifice my child to this school or drive him to Blacksburg to a very good school, everyday? The parent pick up, was a joke. I was also worried about the lack of security. The playground was falling apart. And then there was the ever present worry of their SOL scores. One in every four students has at least one parent in jail. Anyway, you get the point.
I really was on the verge of yanking my kid out and taking him somewhere else.
So I prayed.
I'd never told anyone that before, but I told Mrs. B that last night, because she knows I'm religious, and so is she.
I said, "I had this feeling that instead of abandoning the school like everyone else (because many people were), I should see how I could help."
Mrs. B. nodded. She remembered, I'm sure, the day that I sat down and listed off my concerns. I went in armed and ready for a fight, but instead I was met with compassion and someone thrilled that a parent actually wanted to make the school better. I was immediately asked to be on the School Improvement team.
Basically, Belview has rocked out the past four years.
Last night, Mrs. B. and I stood side by side, watching as all the kids, and their families, swarmed the playground, running here and there, jumping on a moon bounce, eating popcorn and pizza, getting their faces painted, playing carnival games. All on an enormous red, yellow and blue playground that has been newly refurbished and added onto. Twice.
Things we couldn't see from the outside were bouncing off our lips as we pointed out to each other the improvements.
-Fully accrediated
-Smartboards in every room
-A rockin' parent pick up. (This was my baby. I talked them into paving over their dumpy old basketball court and turning it into a parking lot. Don't worry, they have a new basketball court)
-No graffiti beneath the kindergarten classroom entrance.
-And most importantly, kids who are wicked smart. So smart the Title 1 teacher told me there wasn't a single kid in Emma's class who needed her help.
The coolest thing-my son got a perfect score on the Math SOL last year. You heard me right. Perfect. And somebody taught him how to work all those problems. And we all know it wasn't me, because me and Math are not best friends. I'm a writer, remember?
So I asked her what they get for winning the award. "$5000 dollars in money or Panasonic prizes. National recognition." She and some other teachers get to go to NY to receive the award from the Secretary of Education. And she'll be interviewed on the news.
And I'll be watching, from my couch. Whether that is in C'burg or Evanston, Wyoming, I'm not sure. But it doesn't matter because I know that change is a good thing, and I'll always know that Belview Elementary is one less place I have to worry about.
Thursday, May 6, 2010
I'm not normal, I guess
WARNING*** This is about three different thoughts slapped together into one post, but there is a point. Read on.
Since diving back into the writing pool, I've been poring over websites of other authors and aspiring writers, trying to learn as much as I can. Here's what I see and hear, over and over.
Writing makes you a bad spouse or parent. OR, you have to sacrifice your family to be a real writer.
This, my dear friends, in my humble opinion, is a lie.
I get what they're saying. Writing takes up your time and brain space. It's hard to get writing thoughts out of your head, even when you're not writing. But still.
I'll tell you what--my husband graduates in a week. Pretty soon, there will be people calling my house, asking for Doctor Auten. I'll probably have to give my head a little shake to figure out who they're talking about, and then I'll say, "Oh, you want to speak to MY husband." Because that's who he is, first and foremost. Second to that, he's the father of my four awesome kids. And guess what? We had to work hard for this dream to become a reality. And my husband is so happy right now. Being a student didn't make him a bad person. If anything, it taught our kids that when we work hard, we realize our goals. That can't be bad.
When I was in Utah, my cousin, Cory, came to visit me. "What are you doing that makes you happy, Susan?" she asked. I got a big grin on my face and said, "Writing. It makes me so dang happy. What about you?" I asked.
"Quilting," she said. And then she got a recently pieced quilt out of her car and showed it to me. She was beaming. It was a really awesome quilt. Guess who she's been teaching about quilting. Her girls.
Guess who loves to hear what I wrote that day? My kids. They pile all up on the top of my king sized bed, (that's another blog post) complain that so and so has her knee in his back for about two minutes, and then I read to them.
Guess who all want to be writers or illustrators when they grow up? My kids.
My son, Will, comes up to me from time to time and says, "Mom, I don't feel like I have anything to look forward to." I'll take his hand in mine and then we'll discuss some of the fun things coming up. When we're done he'll give me a hug and run off to play again, as if everything is right in the world. That's what writing does for me. It gives me something to look forward to. We all need that.
Writing makes you a bad parent? I think those people are just looking at it wrong.
Since diving back into the writing pool, I've been poring over websites of other authors and aspiring writers, trying to learn as much as I can. Here's what I see and hear, over and over.
Writing makes you a bad spouse or parent. OR, you have to sacrifice your family to be a real writer.
This, my dear friends, in my humble opinion, is a lie.
I get what they're saying. Writing takes up your time and brain space. It's hard to get writing thoughts out of your head, even when you're not writing. But still.
I'll tell you what--my husband graduates in a week. Pretty soon, there will be people calling my house, asking for Doctor Auten. I'll probably have to give my head a little shake to figure out who they're talking about, and then I'll say, "Oh, you want to speak to MY husband." Because that's who he is, first and foremost. Second to that, he's the father of my four awesome kids. And guess what? We had to work hard for this dream to become a reality. And my husband is so happy right now. Being a student didn't make him a bad person. If anything, it taught our kids that when we work hard, we realize our goals. That can't be bad.
When I was in Utah, my cousin, Cory, came to visit me. "What are you doing that makes you happy, Susan?" she asked. I got a big grin on my face and said, "Writing. It makes me so dang happy. What about you?" I asked.
"Quilting," she said. And then she got a recently pieced quilt out of her car and showed it to me. She was beaming. It was a really awesome quilt. Guess who she's been teaching about quilting. Her girls.
Guess who loves to hear what I wrote that day? My kids. They pile all up on the top of my king sized bed, (that's another blog post) complain that so and so has her knee in his back for about two minutes, and then I read to them.
Guess who all want to be writers or illustrators when they grow up? My kids.
My son, Will, comes up to me from time to time and says, "Mom, I don't feel like I have anything to look forward to." I'll take his hand in mine and then we'll discuss some of the fun things coming up. When we're done he'll give me a hug and run off to play again, as if everything is right in the world. That's what writing does for me. It gives me something to look forward to. We all need that.
Writing makes you a bad parent? I think those people are just looking at it wrong.
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