Must Be Doing Something Right!

Any day, I'll welcome waking up from a sound sleep when Brady walks into our bedroom and exclaims: " Mom and Dad, thanks for my awesome life!"

Open Eyes, Open Heart -It's Almost Mother's Day

It's been several months since I've blogged or worked on my book. During this emotionally charged time of moving into our new home, I seem to be changing.

For four years, my walls have been up about my daughter and her death. I couldn't embrace her even in death. Her 10 year bout with drugs, watching her go through a court-ordered rehab and then to experience her lying again shortly before her untimely death, froze my heart. It was too difficult to deal with her drama and keep a positive attitude while raising Brady. I chose to shut her out in life and in death. Perhaps the former was a mistake but the only way I could cope.

 I know intellectually that addiction/alcoholism is a disease that can be kept at bay with a solid 12-step program. However, lying must cease in order to keep the soul clean and stay sober. It was something my daughter couldn't do and why I was so scared when she lied to us, knowing that she probably wouldn't stay clean for long. It was almost a relief when she was taken. Of course, this thought perpetuated my guilt.

Recently, I've come face to face with the devil, again, concerning people who aren't directly in my life but who are part of my extended family. My Al-anon attitude towards them remains strong but I'm finding my heart softening towards my daughter. I wish she could have done better and I wish I had been a mother to her during her difficult time. Instead, I was a mother to her son. I wish I could have done both.

I just watched the movie, "Flight" and it opened my eyes. I could feel how baffling alcoholism and drug addiction is. I could feel my daughter's struggle. I was sorry for feeling so cold towards her when I thought about her drug-use and wreckage, instead of trying to embrace her goodness and sweetness that abundantly filled her soul when drugs weren't present. At least, I've been able to share the good things about Jaime with Brady. Perhaps, even in death, I can now be her mother. I miss her.

Catching Up in Only One Minute

I have exactly one minute to catch up before running Brady to his tennis lesson. I'm still on hiatus from writing but have been missing it terribly. We'll be in our newly remodeled home in less than two months. After setting in, I'll have more minutes to blog and to write. So please hold on and check back in May.

FIFTH CHILD?

So sorry, with no extra minutes, there's been no time for blogging. I've been restructuring FIFTH CHILD, making the story more novel-like and more compelling (I might even change the title). Needless to say, my time doing this has been shared with being a wife and mom, volunteering for three major events, rehearsing for an upcoming show and buying a new house. I promise to get back to my blog once my book takes on a new shape. Happy Holidays to all and a Healthy 2013!

When Brady Was Five- Chapter Excerpt from"Raising Brady"

After we got home, playing with his trains got boring so he begged to go to his favorite place, The Model Train Store. Even the fifty-minute drive to Culver City didn’t bother or bore Brady. Pulling up to the store, I couldn’t get his seat belt off fast enough.

“Why can’t I buy the Lionel Train?” he pleaded. “I’m old enough to work it.”  

The train was expensive and a very serious train. I kneeled down to be sure he’d hear me.  
“Brady, on the box it says you have to be at least eight years old,” I said, relieved I had an out.
“But, Mom,” he said, "the box won’t know I’m only five!”

We left the store, with Brady yearning for his eighth birthday. I left hoping they’d change the age on the box to twelve by the time Brady turned eight.

Excerpt from Chapter 3 -"Into The Abyss"

                                                                                                          

         “How are you, Jaime?” I said, with my walls up.

         “I’m living with friends in a motel room,“ she depressingly said. “None of us have places to live so we pooled all our money for the motel. We’ve been here four days and I can’t buy groceries. I need my money to pay for the room.”

         She began to choke up. “I’m hungry, Mom.”  

         I began to weep. She said she was hungry. I knew to never give money to an addict, but I am a mother, and I had to go to my child. She was hungry.

         After driving an hour, and arguing with myself whether I should be doing this at all, I was there. I pulled into the parking lot of a seedy golden yellow-painted motel with what appeared to be strung-out druggies and drug dealers crowding the area. It was like a scene out of a movie. Some were in cars, some leaned against them, while others were hanging outside the motel doors. I felt ill and scared. I never imagined I’d be in a place like this. How could my daughter have adapted?

Swamped As Only A Mother Can Be

Sorry it's been a while since blogging. You're going to hear that a lot. Mothering has stepped up a notch and I'm swamped. There's more homework in Third Grade: 15 minute reading is now up to 20 minutes a night, home work is not only Literature and Math, but Geography and Science, too. Then there's Tennis and Piano, Eye Doctor Appointments, Check-Ups, free play and getting sick. Of course, the getting sick part happened right after he was home from school for Teacher Conferences and religious holidays. Help! Where's that extra minute for... me? Oh, almost forgot; I'm a functioning Mom, again!