Here me roar!

Enough of that sad stuff around here ... getting up, dusting off and moving on. OK?

Now, this year is a big year for me. When I graduated from college, ehem, 11 years ago, I had goals. Yes, I had me some very big goals.

My main goal was to write for magazines.

But, to get published in magazines, I needed to have published clips. You know ... that lovely Catch-22 that plagues writers daily around the globe.

So, to get published, I thought I'd try freelancing for my local newspaper. In a meeting with the editor about that he offered me a job. A full-time job. Um, he wasn't even hiring. He saw something in me, he said later.

So, I became a reporter, and a pretty good one at that. I won awards. I climbed the reporting ranks and soon found my way to a bigger newspaper, where I would eventually meet Da!, also a newspaper person. It does take one to know one.

I quickly grew to love reporting and writing and uncovering people's stories. So many of those stories molded me into the person I am today, actually.

They led me to this peak where I stand daily with my personal beliefs on faith, spirituality, humanity, politics, economics, and sociology. To witness the things I did as a young woman, to sit down and grieve along side complete strangers whose relative or friend just died time and again taught me early about what matters most in life. More than the Bible could. More than any self-help book could. More than any preacher could.

I have built a life -- married a man and mothering two daughters -- made of principals built on the shoulders of real human beings who know tragedy, heartbreak, survival, discrimination, fear and contentment. Without those people -- all of them -- I would not be the person I am today.

Trust your marriage. Love. Follow your passions. Live for the here and the now because tomorrow IS NOT guaranteed. For God's sake, do not judge. Do not compare. Accept people's differences. Respect people's personal beliefs. Wear your seat belt. Don't speed. Don't drink and drive. Don't do drugs. Have faith in yourself.

Now, as 2008 calls out to us to start fresh, I will finally see my name in magazines. Not just one. Not just two -- but, a handful or more. These will be small bylines; hardly a blip in the national publishing scene.

But, they will be stepping stones for this next chapter in my life. I can't imagine whose shoulders I will lean on for guidance as I walk this new path.

Tomorrow: My writing resolutions for 2008.



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The Truth is ...

The moment a child is born, the mother is also born. She never existed before. The woman existed, but the mother, never. A mother is something absolutely new. ~Rajneesh

I dig solitude. I crave it. It's all I know.

As a child, I played alone most of the time. As a teenager, I sequestered myself into my room.

After tons of socializing at parties and everything else in college, I just wanted to be alone in my apartment.

Writing fits me for that very reason. I prefer to write alone. I prefer a quiet room and a computer to a whole host of chatty people.

I'd much rather read your thoughts once than hear them a dozen times, which happens in real conversations.

Just the other day, as I was bragging about how my girls love to pretend clean, a relative of ours who shall remain nameless for this story, said this: "You've mentioned that before."

Really? Had I? Perhaps it's because in my life that is about as exciting as it gets. My twin daughters, who I am home alone with for 60 hours a week, like to pretend clean. Still. It's their No. 1 activity. Sorry to be repetitive, but that is what it is like having two toddlers. Repetitive.

So, after one too many conversations like that in my real life in the last week, I withdraw back to my pen and my paper where I am free to repeat myself as often as I'd like because unlike the rest of my life I reign on this blog.

Mix writing with motherhood and, well, it can be rather toxic to your mind. Since I work from home, calls need to be made and received. Research has to be conducted. All of this in the span of a few hours a day.

But, I have chosen this. I am revitalizing an old career while building a new one. I do not speak of these endeavors for privacy sake. But, the truth is, I am doing very well for a newbie.

It also means that I am tied to this house more than I should be at the age of 33. Between the two tots, the writing career, one car, no extra money and no family to visit in the immediate area -- I live a lonely life.

But, I choose this over everything else and would do so again and again.

My point is that I am not pitying myself. I am not upset or sad or angry. I am just puzzled. Puzzled that this is the life I choose. Puzzled over the fact that making friends and maintaining them has become, in recent years, really challenging. Puzzled that motherhood -- despite what it seems from the outside -- is so very lonely and isolating.

Once you become a mom your life is world's apart from everyone else's. And that's what I meant to say in my last post, but didn't.

Schedules, ideologies, philosophies, places of choice ... it all adds up and keeps us separate -- world's apart.

And I can search all day on the streets by knocking on doors and attending playgroups, and attending church services, but I will never find better friends than all of you -- my blogging friends. Is it because we open up our souls the only way we know how -- by writing out the words? If it doesn't get written is it ever said?

Not in my mind. Maybe it goes back to my decade-plus career in journalism, where I took copious notes and then hardly had to look at them again because once I wrote them down, I knew them. They were already planted in my mind -- some of them forever.

The truth is that I don't have any more answers now than I did a week ago. I do know, though, that I am still working madly on some internal errors that even Norton can't help me with.

I have some writing resolutions due to one of my friends. I have some household maintenance issues to attend to. And, deadlines looming.




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30 Days of Thanks

The greatest gifts in life are the ones you least expect, the ones that come to you as a great surprise, the ones that pick you up when you are down. Such was the case for me last week when a blogging friend told me about an amazing gift she was sending to me in the mail.

I'm thankful for Bella entering my life and for the many gifts of words she passes on to me -- and others -- every day. I enjoy reading her comments on other blogs as much as I do the blog posts themselves. She is a true friend, and no doubt, a fabulous and beautiful mother. Plus, she's a rocking writer mama, too.



This post was written as a commitment to NaBloPoMo and Boogiemum's 30 Days of Thanks. I figured I could use a little more graciousness in my life this month since I'm too busy to participate in NaNoWriMo, again. Boo-hoo!

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Taking the boo out of Halloween

Dear sweet girls,

On August 29, 2005, Hurricane Katrina walloped New Orleans and surrounding towns and states. At the time, you were both fighting and kicking for space in my belly then so you won’t remember that. (Gosh, not much has changed now that I think about it.)

But, I do remember those days as the news grew more grim. I remember crying. The devastation was awful.

My sadness, though, had to do with the faces. The sad and angry faces of thousands of black grandmothers, moms, dads and all of their children haunted me as I sat in the comfort of my home. To think that days went by and those people were stranded with no food, no drinks, no hope of anything. Their homes were swept away; their lives changed forever.

And I cried because I couldn’t believe that I was bringing two more people into this crazy, over-crowded country that, in my mind, had already been shameful to so many in the world.

Then, I realized something; that I was growing two strong, beautiful and independent women who could change all of this. That thought is what guides me and Da! every day.

This does not mean I am not scared for you.

Our great country that professes freedom for all scares me. That The Today show can now monopolize the entire morning with its “pretend” news scares me. That Top News is about what the presidential – no, make that Presidential – candidates are wearing, not how they plan to get our country out of the global embarrassing mess that it has become.

That more than 3,800 young men and women – all of whom turned to the military as a way to become successful – have died for a war that no one even knows why we’re fighting in the first place. That Afghanistan is left floundering, that Osama Bin Laden is still conveniently MIA.

That 83 percent of the children attending schools in our city live in poverty and that that problem is all over the country and it is being ignored. IGNORED.

That the War on Drugs was never a war we intended to win and that it is still plaguing our communities, our families every. Single. Effin. Day.

That I find that my car has been rummaged through – probably by an addict – early in the morning while dew is still fresh on the window before yoga class. That that is something I no longer fear scares me. That I feel sorry for the addict because life is so hard and so painful and he needed the fix, the money, but he only got enough change to park his car – or bike -- for a half hour at a meter.

That anyone could be so desperate to choose our car, our home, to try and make a quick buck when we can barely afford groceries half the month.

That our street is littered with young women prostituting themselves for that same desperate need for drugs. That some days I’m walking you – my sweet, innocent daughters -- behind them as they flirtatiously wave at possible suitors. That they don’t see the ruin they are causing themselves and the rest of womankind.

All of these things, and much more, scare me.

But, do you know what scares me more than all of this … that some of my fellow American women, after more than 200 years of white men being in power, could be more skeptical of a qualified woman as president than a man.

This post was written for Scribbit's October Write-Away Contest.

Arm chair money for moms

Here are my Top 5 ways stay-at-home moms (or working moms) can earn extra cash. These take a little effort, but it's really helped with making ends meet -- like when you have to buy two pair of shoes for some cute toddlers I know.

1. eBay -- Yup, you've read it before, but have you tried it? Look through everything you have and list it. I sold some leftover special baby formula from almost a year ago online and made $100. When I know we'll need some extra money again, I have at least two more things to list in that range, including the old co-sleeper that hardly got used thanks to my failure to be able to breastfeed. (don't want to open up that can of worms, again.) And, for those large, more bulky items, try Craigslist in your local area. I sold an old poker table a couple months ago, and am now about to sell an old ceiling fan as well. And, I don't have to leave my house because buyers pick up the items.

2. Teach: OK, you have to leave your chair for this one, but much of the work can be done in your office chair. I'm teaching a very basic writing class right now two hours a week. But, if you are good at photography, beading, sewing or knitting -- or whatever -- you can easily find a community education program to teach through near your house. There are many where we live through our city, neighboring school districts and through the local community colleges. To make it even more interesting, you could gear a class to fit your old profession so you feel like you are still in the game. It tweaks the old mind, too. Plus, you get to leave the house and talk to adults once a week!

3. Write essays: There are numerous sites online these days who are buying people's essays. Uncommon Ties is one, but there are many, many more. If you are interested in learning about these, e-mail me. I will be getting a list together in the next couple weeks.

4. Sell books and CDs: This will not make you rich, but it can deepen your pay pal pocketbook, if you have one, which you will if you sell on eBay. It's also a great way to get rid of things, but you have to be very, very patient. A book I listed on Half.com months ago just sold for .75 cents, plus shipping. I might make a dollar. Not much, and maybe not worth the hassle for Da! to have to mail it, but it's at least leaving the house. Plus, one down and nine more to go for a great, cheap bottle of wine!

5. Complain: This is something I do not do very much but when a can of green beans -- the only kind my girls will eat -- turned out to taste more like a gallon of salt, I had no choice. I called to complain. Duh. Now I'll get some coupons in the mail. Every time I've ever called a company with the slightest comment or complaint I've gotten coupons in the mail. What do you say? Worth trying? I say yes. I'm going to start calling one company a week that I really use a lot. That said, there are also lots of online promotions where you can print out coupons for the things you love.

Number six should be blogging, but I am not making nearly enough in ad revenue to exploit that option. When I do, though, I'll be sure to share.

How about you? Do you have any great ways to make some extra money? Please share.

Someday I will ...

Someday, I will tell my girls about their grandfather, the one they will never meet, the one they will never share a meal with, the one I do not know. I will tell them that I grew up without a father. I will have to explain to them that some girls do not have daddies like the one who tucks them into bed every night. It won't matter to them that their grandfather lives hundreds of miles away, that he has only seen me once in the last 25 years or that he has another child of his own that he sees every day. None of that will matter. Someday, I will sit down and explain to my daughters that life is a zippy, curvy, crazy place and we just do not know where any of us will end up, or with whom. But, what matters ... what really matters is that they have me and their father forever and ever. They could move a trillion miles away, and I will follow. I brought them into this world, and that means I'm here for them until the end of time. (Or, at least until The Da! and I scrape together enough pennies to buy that little cabana-like mansion on Grand Cayman.)

Want to read more "Someday, I will" entries? Great! Follow me. Those submitted today will be added this afternoon.

You might first start off with Karen at Cheerio Road who delightfully sends wise words our way about the ever-so-important topic these days of happiness.

Then, slowly work your way over to Bella's entry at Beyond the Map. Not only does her writing mesmerize you, she'll tuck you in for a really cozy nap.

For some inspiration for building your 100 Things to do before you die list, check out Lesley's entry about what she'd like to do someday at her site Barr Babies.

Don't forget to check out a couple newbie commenters around here: Butterfly Girl at Found a Peanut or Two tells a compelling story to her premature twins and Laura will make you laugh with a newly created mechanism to ward off arguments with her husband.

In the Fast Lane writes about a longtime dream of hers that her husband just isn't buying into, yet.

Check out The Twinkies to read Stacie's post about dreams mixing with the reality of caring for twins. In one sentence, she writes, "I’m trying to let go of the illusion that if I just try a little harder I could be irreproachably perfect."

My dear blogging friend Shannon overcame her deadline phobia to write an entry, but not just any entry. She's got a beginning, a middle and an end that will leaving your heart racing.

Late to the game, but certainly proud to have her along for the ride ... read Jen's fabulous post on her blog The Road Less Traveled. I'm sure you'll relate. We all can.

Finally, go to the Zen of Motherhood and read lovely short that takes us back to Cheerio Road.

My deep appreciation to all of you who participated in this very first group writing project. It was fun hosting it!

Switching gears a bit, again

In honor of a writing class I'll be teaching, of the writing class I just finished, and of the eagerness I'm feeling about where my writing is taking me (or where I'm taking it), I'm going to host a very informal group writing project this week.

You all are invited to participate and tell your friends to do so as well. On Friday, I will link to everyone's posts on this site. Just be sure to leave me a comment. There will be no prize ... just a great list of entries for everyone to read and share among the blogosphere.

So, here's the deal. Write a new post that finishes the sentence below. Link to my site, and then leave me a comment on this post letting me know where to find your post. All by Friday at noon EST. The post can go in any direction you please so long as it finishes the sentence. Write as long or short as you wish. Write as raw or formal as you wish. So long as you write, and with pleasure. It can be related to motherhood, fatherhood or anything else in the world as well.

Here's your prompt:

Someday, I will ...

Everyone, but the kitchen staff

Perhaps it's just me, but lately I've been thinking a lot about why I started this blog, and what it's evolved into. I set out to have a place of my own to write, freely, about whatever I wanted. But, I also wanted to be able to showcase my thoughts for friends and family to read.

As it turns out, none of those people really care that much about what I have to say.

Now and then, I learn that one of my distant friends, like my old college roommate, or my childhood friend, Mary Anne, are reading. I love that!

Yet, people I would think would care to see pictures of my little darlings don't tune in.

Instead, all of you do. And, more and more every day.

I have always felt like certain people in my life -- who shall remain nameless -- never really cared about anything I said. Now this blog is the proof!

And, yet ...

I couldn't be happier having this blog, knowing that I can write a post, especially the gloomy ones, and usually wake up in the morning to find that some fabulous people stopped by to read what I wrote ... and cared enough to not just click away, but leave a comment.

After all, comments are just blog hugs, right?

Letting words collide, and paper fly

When I'm interested in trying to get stuff done on my computer, I bring out the creative bag for my girls. One of those great activities that they love is playing with strips of paper. I call them paper snakes and make lots of Ssss sounds. Loads of fun. They toss them in the air, crumple them, watch them wiggle.

Well, in honor of that toddler activity, I pretty much did that to pick the winner of this month's giveaway.

So, the winner can be found here.

Congrats, In The Fast Lane!

I do encourage any mom interested in writing to check this book out. Christina Katz -- AKA the Writer Mama -- passes along some really fabulous tips to break into the writing scene.

Also, be sure to check out her giveaways this month!

Write on!

Dusty, old journals everywhere

How do I need thee?

The last two decades of my life are sitting three feet from me, in a cardboard box, among the towering piles of clutter we call storage around here.

Years of torment, self-torture, suffering as a teenager, and a single young woman lie dormant in one medium-sized box.

I pick one up, read the dates, start reading the entries. They are full of sadness, full of gloom with sparkles of the sunniest memories my mind can imagine. There is something joyful inside me whenever I think back to remarkable heartbreaks.

But, do I need to relive those memories to move forward? As I pour through book after book, I am realizing that I am forgetting things that used to haunt my life so very much. How I loved that one boy, a family friend, so much and how I never truly understood why he didn’t like me. How I always felt alone, even when I wasn’t. And, then, there were the mistakes. The dreadful, what-did-I-do, mistakes?

I could drop those journals, all of them, in the trash and be done with those memories. After all, how many memories have I forgotten because they were never written down? Perhaps the best memories, the most vivid ones, are ones that the mind will automatically remember.

Maybe I’m holding on to something by holding on to these journals, which until blogging entered my life were never really given much thought. I knew only that they were glimpses of my past, easy page-flips to take a stroll back in time, to the times of adversity and struggle that brought me to this very spot right this very moment in this old city attic.

On one hand, it’s great to be able to see clearly the road that made me who I am today. On the other, I’m already me, why do I need to know how I got here? Nothing will change by re-reading these journals, right?

On making friends, and keeping them

The Internets cracks me up, and amazes me. The world of blogging has to be the biggest story untold every day.

One of my devoted readers, MPJ, recently wrote a funny post about a cyber love triangle among she and her commenters. She wrote that one of the friendships has developed into a cyber soulmate. In the end, she had to pick.

I'm writing a column about blogging for a parenting publication, and in it I'm trying to make the point that moms should read blogs if they are searching for people who think like them or who have the same daily challenges.

If there is a cyber soulmate for me, it might be Shannon, who is also a stay-at-home mom of 17-month-old twins and frantically writes during their naps and tries to find the balance daily. Hmm. Sounds very familiar.

Shannon and I recently discussed the isolation we feel as both mothers and writers --two jobs that keep us home all day. Our other job, parenting twin toddlers, also keeps us home all day because we're pretty much terrified to go anywhere with them that might bring about some stress.

Brian, a stay-at-home dad of three, including twins, and a writer, alluded to some cyber soulmate confession while answering my question to him about raising twins. Read that Q&A here. And, yes, I do laugh when one of the twins smacks the other in the head. And when they head butt or, the very latest, butt-butt.

Amazing who we find on these pages. I'm hooked.

Who would your cyber soulmate be if you could describe them?

The Great Balancing Act, by Yours Truly

Before becoming a stay-at-home mama last November, I researched the idea pretty extensively. I talked to as many friends as I could who knew the stay-at-home routine well and who I knew would give me honest answers. I could see the worry in their eyes when I told them that I was considering the change. I knew it wasn't going to be easy.

When the decision was finalized, I made to-do lists for everything to avoid being, you know, "bored" -- because I thought life raising twin toddlers was going to leave me feeling, hum-drum.

As it turns out, that autumnal November day also turned me into a work-at-home mama. Since I had spent many years writing for full-time for daily newspapers, freelance writing came easy for me. It was also something I had been dabbling in while working full-time.

What I didn't realize is exactly how busy I would become. Rejecting assignments was difficult when we needed all the extra cash we could get. I was lucky to have so much work. But doing it all became an obsession. And, on top of that, I had started this blog, which rapidly become an addiction.

Mix the two, and here's what you get: waking at the crack of dawn to get prepared for the day and write a blog post, writing and making calls during each morning and afternoon nap, and then returning to it all as soon as bedtime routine was finished ... it was a constant cycle. Two Fridays ago, I gladly turned in my last assignments, hoping for a break, for some peace of mind.

What I got, instead, was a big fat bowl of depression. I'd rarely experienced such lows and, therefore, I worried myself, worried that my chosen life as a Mom, in general, was too much for me. The low moods didn't strike when my beautiful, silly girls were in my presence, but rather during their naps and at bedtime -- times I would have normally been working hard on writing projects.

In fact, I had too much time to think about what I didn't have, mainly close family members to visit and help me entertain my babies. Had I been too busy writing that I neglected someone? Was my time at the computer screen all that I had? Granted, we got out of the house, we went walking, went to the park (imagine that?), went to the store. Life did keep going for us. But, was it enough? Did I need more than that? Where were my friends? And, my low writing self-esteem reared its ugly head as well. That's another post for another day.

I realized this week that I need to be busy. I need to have lots of work to do. I need each day to be filled to the brim.

So I was so happy to learn yesterday that I will be blogging twice a week for a local regional parenting publication starting next week, that another publication asked me to take on another assignment, and that one more story came my way. I'll be busy, but I'll be happier.

Writing and storytelling has always been my outlet. I had forgotten what it means to let that go. Now, I know and will appreciate the Great Balancing Act better this time around.

What keeps you sane? What do you need in order to keep your spirits high? What motivates you to keep going? What's your creative outlet? If you blog about this topic, please link back to me and let me know. If you are new here, introduce yourself and leave a comment. If you've been lurking, come out of the shadows and say hello.

Mourning motherhood

Dear girls,

If I sit still long enough, and think deeply, I can still easily remember that gutter-like feeling that nestled deep into my heart each day I left you at day care.

I had a job, an I-love-humanity kind of job. Before that, a career that evolved out of blood, sweat and tears One that I gave up in hopes that you would come to me some day.

And, when I knew you were going to arrive, I didn’t know then the immense feeling of loss I would feel within myself for having to leave you with strangers for the better part of your awake time.

It was not guilt.

I mourned and grieved for you each day, even though my work days included coffee breaks, quiet walks and conversation with adults.

Like a widow who lost her great love, I lost my two great loves each day, five days a week for six months.

Even when I knew you were in the best hands, I hurt. I regret even writing the word hurt, because it was so much deeper than that. I felt empty inside. I felt raw. I felt lost.

I would sit at my desk and picture you, J, kicking your feet in your bouncy chairs, and you, L, refusing bottles by caregivers, again. Both of you sitting there – you weren’t able to sit alone, yet – watching as other women, who are not your mother, care for you and a half dozen other children.

You were only a block away, but I felt like you were a million miles away.

After you were sick nearly every other week for six months, The Da! and I grew tired. Fees to keep you there added up each month to more than our home mortgage. In the end a mere couple hundred dollars was left over to pay me for the heartache I endured leaving you each day.

With proper budgeting, and many tears, we realized we could manage on one income better than we were managing on two. We sold a car and paid off the other one. And, we made a few other cuts.

And I cannot imagine it any other way. Yes, we need more money. Yes, I need to find ways to cut expenses on food and diapers and clothes.

But it is all worth it to me, to be here and watch you grow and learn. To be the one giving you your milk, your meals, your toys. To be the one to taking you outside under the glorious sun and not just watch you run and play, but help teach you how to play. I’m not the one to just tuck you in to bed each night and wake you the next day.

And, it’s beautiful. As hard as some days are, memories of those early days – carrying you both in to that day care in your infant carriers and handing you off to other moms – are far, far harder, even now, for me to bear.

This post is part of Mammablogga's group writing project. To read more letters like this go to her site.

If only I had know then, what I know now

I might have had a different blog title, like The Uber Twins. I might have had a different style of writing all together. But I didn't know anything. In fact, this blog was started to simply practice blogging as I anticipated blogging on a more public forum. Then, I learned that that opportunity wasn't going to happen.

But, now it is. I think. And then another opportunity still lies out there in waiting, in purgatory, in leave-my-nails drumming on the desk anticipation. So, perhaps those ideas in the back of my mind will see the light of the screen, some day.

Yet, here I am, Letters to my Daughters. Our blog title is on blog rolls -- like, 3 of them. Including this one, which truly cracks me up. I love the blogger's ability to express herself. I love that she included me on her blog roll.

So here we are. Where are we? Readers are growing, but only because they like my menus on Mondays. Or because I leave obsessive-compulsive please-come-visit-my-blog comments all around this here Internets. I can't help if if I can write and watch television (Go Blake!)and conduct phone interviews in the same block of time -- newsrooms do that to a woman.

My point to this post, believe it or not, is to announce that I have finally created a Gmail account. Much like joining Technorati, Feed burner and Google Analytics, Gmail is one of those "it will make you feel good" geeky things that bloggers tout.

Blogging truly has turned my tired, antiquated self into someone who actually knows what the heck she's doing in terms of Web site design and using modern day technology as well as social marketing. And, to think, I had to become a stay-at-home Mama to do it! Take that Leslie Bennetts.

Wanna give me a shout out? Email me at ubertwins at gmail dot com.

I am not sure why I didn't just give the actual e-mail address, but this is how all the cool bloggers do it so they must know something I do not (spam, probably). I guess I'll figure that out some day.

Stay tuned for that public blog I'm talking about, which will debut in a couple of weeks. It will be uber cool. That I know for sure.

Check it, ladies!

So, the other day, in an egomaniacal moment, I wanted to see if any Google searches would lead to my blog. Yeah, yeah ... if you're a writer, you understand this. I've Googled my own name for as long as I can remember. Get over it. You just never know where the heck you'll find your writings.

My results led me to a rather surprising find: another blog with the same title! I'm pretty sure I searched high and low (or UP and Down, as you both like to mimic!) and never ran across such a title. Well, when I read through this blog, the first thing I read is that she read another woman's blog that involved letters to her daughters and she thought this was a good idea and so she started her own -- within the last month or so!

I wasn't sure how I felt about this, as I hadn't done anything to protect my name or writings, because I never thought what I had to say or write would be interesting enough to be stolen. Not that her content was the same, but she is also the mother of toddler twin daughters and so it was eerily similar. Yikes!

Not cool, lady, if you are reading. Create a new title for your blog! I know she didn't know better and was just genuinely trying to do something nice, but it's the whole creative license thing to consider. You could title it something like ... Dear Such and Such, or whatever.

The Da! and I discussed it and I decided to take matters into my own hands. You know me, I don't like to be held down by The Man, or The Woman, in this case.

So ... Announcing: www.letterstomydaughters.com! Check it in your subject line! Yup, I own a Web site domain. Righteous! Or, can I make up the word, Writeous!

Anyway, I also have protected the original content in this blog under a creative license, which can be found at the bottom of the site. Basically this means you can quote anything I write as long as you give me credit. This is just basic writing rules, but clearly not everyone understands this. If the other blogger had known this, she might have used my URL in her post when she talked about my blog. That is just a courtesy thing.

I'm excited to have my own URL, so this has been a fun, learning experience. Much like learning that going to Target with two fairly new walkers and only one cart that can strap a baby in is definitely not as enjoyable as going alone. But, still, worth doing and definitely fun!

Work-at-Home Mama

Dear Baby Girl and Lady Bug:

I sit down at my desk chair in the kind of relief one feels after doing an hour of yoga. I take a long, deep inhale and my tense shoulders drop away from my ears.

Really, I just finally got you to settle down enough from your partying to take an afternoon nap. It’s been a solid three hours of caretaking and noisemaking and toy throwing and, frankly, I’m exhausted.

And, so, it’s time to get to work, writing. Another deadline looms in the air like a tiny iridescent fuzz that catches my eye here and there as I finally hunker down after diaper changes, messy meals and kisses on new boo-boos.

Really, I just want to curl up on my office futon with remote control in hand and sleep.

After nearly an hour of staring blankly at my computer’s monitor, typing and retyping the same sentence nine different ways and with my freshly washed fingertips falling numb atop the keys, the words start flowing, finally. I’ve hit a rhythm like no other – at least this week. I barely stop to catch my breath it’s going so well. A smile crosses my face. My fingers dance across the keyboard.

And, then, I hear it. It rumbles like the earth’s core shaking just before an earthquake.

Wwwwha! Whaa! Whaaa!

By the sound of your terrifying cry, Baby Girl, you would think my computer, too heavy from all of those 217 words I just typed in, fell on top of your little head. Like an ugly, fat green monster jumped on top of you and squished you. Like your leg had gotten twisted up and stuck between a couple crib slats.

But, no, you just wanted me. The second I wrap my arms around you, and hug you tight you sigh heavily and collapse against my chest. Your little fingers pinch my skin as you try to nuzzle closer to me. I breathe in the smell of your hair. Suddenly, reality pulls at my heart and commas and pronouns mean nothing. Choosing the right words, though, is a task that will continue all day.

“Shhh,” I say in your ear. “It’s OK. Mama’s here.”

A minute later, Lady Bug, whimpers “don’t forget about me.”

And then it’s time to change diapers, tie shoes and carry you both downstairs to resume the rest of our day: Snack time, play time, dinner time, bath time. The day is coming to an end all too quick.

Tonight, after you are sound asleep, I will face the computer screen again, knowing that my little girls most likely will not wake calling for me. This time, I might actually get something written.

But, really, I’ll just want to curl up in my bed with a good book and fall asleep, dreaming of tomorrow’s peanut butter and jellies, goldfish crumbs and tug o’ wars.