Does It Get Easier?

I remember when my son was a tiny newborn.  It seems like yesterday, but it was four and a half years ago.  He was a sweet, easy little baby to have around.  I didn't know that at the time, though.  I was so overwhelmed by the feelings associated with first-time motherhood.  Things that dominated my mind were such as:  "Am I doing this right?"  "Is the formula too hot?"  "Is the formula too cold?"  "How long has he had this dirty diaper?"  "What if I drop him?"  "Does he know who I am?"  "Is he still breathing?"

I bumbled along, wondering, worrying, and going one hour at a time.  When my son was almost a month old, my best friend arrived for an overnight visit.  I had never been so glad to see her.  Having a six-year-old and three-year-old herself, I knew she would be able to shed some light on what I was doing right or wrong.

"You're doing fine, you know," she said halfway through the visit, sensing my uncertainty.  Those words of reassurance made a haze dissipate and the sun shine down into my living room.

Toward the end of her visit, I was reflecting on the lack of sleep (which really wasn't an issue for me, since my baby started sleeping through the night at 11 days old. However, the complications after my C-section made up for it.), the stress of not knowing what I was doing . . . well, I can't even remember now what it was that I thought was so hard.  But I thought this motherhood thing was tough, and in retrospect, I want to laugh at myself for asking her that question.

But my friend didn't laugh.  She thought for a moment and said, "It gets different.  I won't say easier.  As soon as you get everything figured out, something new will come into the picture."  Bless her heart, she didn't want to scare me.  What I have realized over the last four and a half years is that it gets both easier and harder with each passing year.  She was right - it's just different.

I never thought I would be such an emotional basket case over my child changing schools at age four, but I have been.  We have said goodbye to the wonderful preschool where he has been for the last three years, and are gearing up for "big kid school" in the fall.  The adjustment for me will be having him away from me for a full school day, five days per week.  It will be a big change from our three day per week, 9-12 routine.

On the other hand, I think he will thrive, and I would never want to hold him back.  I'm excited for him, but it's just breaking my heart that he will turn FIVE at the end of this year and leave behind the "little years."  For years now, we have woken up in the morning whenever we felt like it (usually sunrise for him). The years where we hang out in pajamas while we read books or watch Curious George, eat snacks and play with toy cars, or get in the car to go putz around in Target at 10am . . . are over.  I know we still have this summer, and other summers.  But it feels like more than just a new chapter in the book.  It feels like a whole new volume in the series.

There were days I thought this time would never end.  There were days I prayed for school to come sooner, so that I could go about my business and get other things done.  But while it seems to drag day by day, the years are flying past us.  Where did they go?  While I would never want to re-live him getting his little 20-month-old head stuck between wooden rods in a chair back, the scary ER visit with the high fever, or some of the harrowing potty training moments, I wish I could go back and visit earlier times just to drink in his littleness and his sweetness.  And I wish I could take back the times I yelled at him in frustration.

But, I can't.  And as my friend pointed out to me so long ago, I have found that it never really gets easier, just different, on a good day.  And yes, sometimes it is harder.  She just texted me a few moments ago and said, "Hang in there!  I'm not going to tell you it gets easier, because it doesn't."  I know she's right.

Today, I feel that complicated motherly conundrum: simultaneous joy and mourning.  I am mourning the end of a "little" phase of his life.  My baby is no longer a baby.  But I am joyful and amazed by the wonderful little boy he is becoming.  I would never, ever want to hold him back.  But it sure is hard to say goodbye to the "little years."

I'm going to inhale every moment of this summer with him like it's the last breath I will ever take.

Valentine Adventure with a Knight on a White Horse

Being single until I was 33 years old added up to a lot of lonely February 14ths. Now, there are plenty of single people who have a healthy, positive attitude toward the day, but I was not one of them. I had some good Valentine’s Days, sure.  I had some boyfriends along the way who spoiled me with flowers and love letters and the like. But most February 14ths were gloomy for me. I won’t bore you with my sob stories, but literally, my chest used to tighten when I would walk into a Target or Wal-Mart after Christmas and see that heart-shaped things were being stocked on the shelves.


In 2006, all of that changed for me. Let’s just say I was very interested in someone special in the early part of that year, and had pretty good reason to think he was equally interested in me. That “someone special” turned out to be my husband, Chip. We had shared hours of deep conversation, a long walk back and forth across the Arthur Ravenel Bridge, and had even prayed together. So when he called me in early February and asked me out for “February 14th,” I said I thought I was probably available. Then I tried not to breathe heavily into the phone, since I was bouncing up and down with excitement.

When I left work on February 14, 2006, I raced home to get ready. Because Chip was working into the early evening, we had agreed that I would cook dinner for him at my condo. Simple enough, right? I’m not sure how, but somehow I managed to char the stir-fry in my fancy Le Creuset pan. (See my earlier post about a small fire that was later set in this pan.) The stir fry was still edible, just a bit on the well-done side. But the smoke that filled my condo was overwhelming, setting off the alarm. It smelled awful. Well, this was a dilly of a pickle. Chip had never been to my place before, and his first impression of it was going to be clouded by a stench and a fog so thick you could barely see your hand in front of your face. He was due any time, and I panicked.

Throwing open the sliding glass door, I placed a box fan in front of it and tried sucking the smoke out of the house. I sprayed Lysol. I opened my front door and stood there swinging it back and forth like a madwoman. The freezing cold air rushed in from outside, and toasty heat disappeared. Cold and stinky. My home was now cold, stinky, and made my eyes burn. Well, he’s a fireman, I told myself, so maybe this will make him feel right at home. I changed my smoke-tainted clothes, sprayed perfume on my hair, and prayed for the best.

Thank the Lord, Chip called to say he was running late. He had been detained at work.

So by the time he arrived, I am pleased to report that the condo was back to normal. Warm, decent-smelling, and non-allergenic, at any rate. I was able to open the door calmly and play the hostess who has it all together. He came bearing a big bouquet of flowers and sincerest apologies for being late.

I had chosen a Pinot Grigio to accompany the meal, and pulled it from the fridge. I smiled to myself. Just a couple of hours earlier, I had noticed that I had inadvertently purchased a bottle whose label pictured a knight on a white horse. I hoped that this was God’s way of foreshadowing that my knight on a white horse had finally arrived. I knew one thing . . . this was already the best Valentine’s Day I had ever had.

We chatted in the kitchen as I opened every single drawer and fumbled through them all . . . unable to find a corkscrew. Chip began helping me look. “Maybe you don’t have one?” he offered. But I knew I did. I had more than one, and told him I had just used one recently. After a few minutes, I handed him a good, sharp knife and he proceeded to dig, pull and push at the cork. He was successful, and we had our Pinot.

As we sat down to eat, I told him why his late arrival worked out perfectly, describing in full humor the reason I almost called to tell him to bring an oxygen mask. Then I found out, to my delight, that there are some foods he actually *likes better* when they are slightly charred. Stir fry qualified. He cleaned his plate, emptied the pan for seconds, and proceeded to eat what was left on my plate, as well. Count me starry-eyed. I was impressed by his good table manners, and he by my collection of baseball cards. We picked little pieces of floating cork from our glasses of wine as we drank. We talked and laughed. When he said it was late and he should go, we walked to the door. There, we ended up sitting on the floor and talking for another two hours.

In the weeks that followed, we would find six corkscrews in my kitchen. We still laugh about that.

Big Things are Happening!



The time has come!  My internet makeover has begun.  While I will continue to post on this blog every now and then (mostly more personal stories and anecdotes; much the same type of thing I have already been posting here), pleasepleaseplease follow me over to my new professional blog . . . drumroll, please . . .

http://perrincothranconrad.authorsxpress.com/

Please click the link above and follow my new page, as well!!!  As I continue to build my platform as an author, I will need your continued support.  The more followers I have on the new blog, the better it will look for me in terms of future publishing projects.

It was built for me by my publisher, iUniverse, and of course promotes my book, The Ballad of the Shirley T.  They also built pages for me on sites like Shelfari, Goodreads, LibraryThing . . . the list goes on.  And in the coming days and weeks, I will be working on polishing up those pages and making them my own.

A great big THANK YOU to all of you who already follow me!!!  Y'all are my "inner circle."  Please follow my new page, as well, and tell your friends and family!

Okay, if you haven't clicked the link to follow my new blog, here it is again:

http://perrincothranconrad.authorsxpress.com/

Thanks and love to you all!!

A New Year's Non-Resolution

I usually make one or two.  And a few have even been kept and accomplished.  So it's not that I have anything against New Year's Resolutions.  On the contrary, I think they can be extremely helpful in getting people to stop and assess where they are, where they would like to be, and what needs to be done to get there.  Goal-setting is an essential element to successful living.

But I am not making any resolutions that are specifically tied to the new year.  I currently have a different approach.  My idea is that I need to constantly be in a state of self-assessment.  Goal-setting, steps toward accomplishment, and celebration of milestones should be daily (as appropriate) without regard for the calendar.  Of course a new year is a great time to make fresh starts, mentally.  But every day can be a fresh start, no matter the date.  This can apply to relationships, work, self improvement, or anything else.  For me, it specifically relates to writing and business goals.  Days of rest are essential, too, but that doesn't mean you can't take your day of rest to reflect on where you are going.

Happy New Year, and may you find that every day is a new day for dreaming, contemplating, planning, working, celebrating.  "May he give you the desire of your heart and make all your plans succeed.  We will shout for joy when you are victorious and will lift up our banners in the name of our God.  May the Lord grant all your requests."  Psalm 20:4-5 NIV

Pink Hearts for Nona

Have you ever noticed that the leaf of a Calladium resembles a heart?  I never did, until recently.  I planted some bulbs in my yard back in February, knowing I would not see the results of my work until late spring.  Since we have only lived in our house for a year and a half, decorating and landscaping are still "a work in progress" around here.

The last time I saw my grandmother before she passed away, she and I had a long discussion about the landscaping at my house.  It was April.  Long since restricted to a wheelchair or hospital bed, she never had the opportunity to visit my new house, but I described it to her in detail and showed her pictures.  When it came to flowering plants, her advice was this: soft pink flowers would look best with my existing plants and color of my house.

One morning in May, I got the call that my grandmother had passed away during the night.  Later in the day, I walked down my driveway to retrieve the newspaper (of which, incidentally, my grandfather was the Managing Editor in the 1960's) and water my hostas.  I stopped.  I stepped closer to the side of my house.  The very first Calladium was just peeking through the pine straw.  I remembered that Nona and I had talked about my plants when I saw her last.  I knew this was God's gift to me, to remind me that Nona's life on Earth may be over, but her eternal life in Heaven is just beginning.

Over the last two months, all the Calladiums have sprouted and are thriving.  They are all green and white, except for the one that sprouted when Nona died . . . it is the only one sporting soft pink edges.  Just for Nona.

New Horizons

The other day, my husband said, "I looked at your blog last night. How come you haven't written anything on it since October?" October? Oh my. I had no idea it had been that long. How easily life can distract us from the things we really want to do. In 2011, I have been hard at work selling my book, A Quiet Cup of Tea both to individuals and to gift shops and bookstores. I have learned first hand that what they say about being a writer is true . . . you only spend about 10% of the time writing, and the other 90% marketing yourself. My husband has been an incredible help to me, schlepping boxes of books to book signings for me, selling books to practically everyone he knows, taking care of our son so I could write and make phone calls, cheering me on.

And yet, there are never enough hours in the day! Isn't that exactly what I wrote about in A Quiet Cup of Tea, though? The main character sets out to do what she wants to do one morning, but her life (as she has defined it, structured it, and as she prefers it) keeps popping up all day long to prevent her from what she set out to do. Like her, though, I find myself at the end of the day blissfully happy and knowing that my life is still heading where I want it to go. "Delight yourself in the Lord, and he will give you the desires of your heart." Psalm 37:4

So the project this week has been rebuilding my website. I think it's appropriate to make some type of new beginning on this Easter weekend. So stop by my website, if you have a moment, and let me know what you think! www.perrincothranconrad.com