tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-86964967242710560532008-05-15T16:16:43.329-07:00Shawnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16038370158284663729noreply@blogger.comBlogger314125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8696496724271056053.post-67786995111487075962008-05-15T02:14:00.000-07:002008-05-15T02:39:01.749-07:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_z9H_790jqAc/SCwD95cCUdI/AAAAAAAAB8M/yLVkGZVafqk/s1600-h/62_aDSC_0149.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_z9H_790jqAc/SCwD95cCUdI/AAAAAAAAB8M/yLVkGZVafqk/s200/62_aDSC_0149.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5200536031631397330" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="http://www.letterstomydaughters.com/2007/09/mothers-brain-cracked-open.html">Motherhood </a>gets in my way.<br /><br />It's the biggest obstacle I've ever faced as a productive, independent woman. In the past, I've never let a single person or an idea prevent me from passing, from going through, going forward.<br /><br />Ask me what I want now and I may not know. I want everything. And nothing. I want to do it all and nothing at all.<br /><br />I want time for me. Time for the family. Time to get things done around the house.<br /><br />I want to go places. Stay home. Stay in bed. Watch my girls run and play, freely.<br /><br />I want to plan menus for the week, and get the groceries, all without missing a beat of "me time" or "family time."<br /><br />I want to be at home, alone, and feel the comfort of my house without the screaming and the crying and the tugging on my legs. But I don't want to miss out on what happens when they go, wherever they go.<br /><br />I want to exercise. I want to read. I want to run. I want to drink a glass of wine. I want to write.<br /><br />I want to start scraping wallpaper off where a toddler tore it off. I want to tape that long piece back on and call it a day because, really, where would that fit in my day?<br /><br />I want to eat as a family. I want to eat as a woman, as a wife, with two hands, with easy conversation, with music playing. I want to share traditional family meals.<br /><br />I want to nap. I want to get work done. I want to shop. I want to sit and read magazines.<br /><br />I want to upload photos and create new digital pages reflecting my daughters' growth. I want to sit and create different pages with my hands, with scissors, with love -- not with a mouse and a keyboard.<br /><br />I want to be more organized and yet I can't keep up with the toys, the shredded paper, the wet clothes soaked in milk.<br /><br />Maybe <a href="http://www.letterstomydaughters.com/2008/05/catching-shooting-star.html">someday </a>I'll get out of my own way.<br /><br />I never knew I'd become my biggest obstacle, yet.<br /><br />Thank you for visiting today.<br /><br />Did you like this blog post? Please consider subscribing here:<br /><p><a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/LettersToMyDaughters" rel="alternate" type="application/rss+xml"><img alt="" style="border: 0pt none ; vertical-align: middle;" src="http://www.feedburner.com/fb/images/pub/feed-icon16x16.png" /></a> <a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/LettersToMyDaughters" rel="alternate" type="application/rss+xml">Subscribe in a reader</a></p><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><script src="http://www.google-analytics.com/urchin.js" type="text/javascript"> </script> <script type="text/javascript"> _uacct = "UA-1564863-1"; urchinTracker(); </script></div>Shawnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16038370158284663729noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8696496724271056053.post-41275216826445224222008-05-13T18:26:00.001-07:002008-05-13T18:26:55.417-07:00<div>Happy Wednesday!</div><br /><script type="text/javascript" src="http://cs84.clearspring.com/o/46928cc51133af17/482a3fddd4d605e5/46928cc5788deb29/2391df1e/widget.js"></script><div class="blogger-post-footer"><script src="http://www.google-analytics.com/urchin.js" type="text/javascript"> </script> <script type="text/javascript"> _uacct = "UA-1564863-1"; urchinTracker(); </script></div>Shawnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16038370158284663729noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8696496724271056053.post-56311790944233648332008-05-11T17:11:00.000-07:002008-05-11T17:44:37.959-07:00In a room, on a bed, in a hospital wheel chair holding a sobbing 2-year-old whose tears easily broke a dozen hearts Sunday.<br /><br />Holding her still, so still, so not to disturb the injured left arm.<br /><br />Watching her eyes roll back in her head from the pain, from the exhaustion of the day and from the crying.<br /><br />Reluctantly helping nurses and doctors move her just so to figure out what was wrong and how to fix her and how to wrap her small arm in a splint and how to get her small body to lay flat on an X-ray table.<br /><br />Teaching for the first time what a hospital is, what an emergency room doctor is, what the kind nurses will do and how she was just born there two years ago.<br /><br />Shhing her, talking to her, hearing her say boo-boo and trying not to cry too much, trying not to appear too scared, trying not to think the worst, whatever that is in a moment of torture.<br /><br />Then, seeing all her pain disappear with a simple twist of her arm by a very smart, heroic doctor who felt that elbow pop right back into place and assured us she would feel better in a couple minutes.<br /><br />Watching the smile return to her face, again, and how she searches her arm up and down for the now missing boo-boo that kept her down and out for two hours. Letting her and her sister gleefully eat cheese puffs and chocolate stuffed cookies for the first time and not feeling an ounce of guilt and never feeling more happy about junk food and the pleasure it carries with it.<br /><br />Telling yourself that rough housing with daddy and twin sister is OK, it is bound to happen, that boo-boos happen. This is life now. This is motherhood. This is Mother's Day -- every day. There are no holidays -- except every day, to be here witnessing human life and two childhoods unfold and holding your breath and screaming in your hands and closing your eyes to try and block some of it out.<br /><br />All in a Mother's Day, I suppose.<br /><br />Happy?<br /><br />Undoubtedly.<br /><br />Tired?<br /><br />Immensely.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_z9H_790jqAc/SCeQmZcCUbI/AAAAAAAAB78/l_ZUm9oL0kQ/s1600-h/IMG_4884.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_z9H_790jqAc/SCeQmZcCUbI/AAAAAAAAB78/l_ZUm9oL0kQ/s400/IMG_4884.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5199283284160434610" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Thank you for visiting today.<br /><br />Did you like this blog post? Please consider subscribing here:<br /><p><a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/LettersToMyDaughters" rel="alternate" type="application/rss+xml"><img alt="" style="border: 0pt none ; vertical-align: middle;" src="http://www.feedburner.com/fb/images/pub/feed-icon16x16.png" /></a> <a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/LettersToMyDaughters" rel="alternate" type="application/rss+xml">Subscribe in a reader</a></p><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><script src="http://www.google-analytics.com/urchin.js" type="text/javascript"> </script> <script type="text/javascript"> _uacct = "UA-1564863-1"; urchinTracker(); </script></div>Shawnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16038370158284663729noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8696496724271056053.post-58155634927339469262008-05-09T11:24:00.001-07:002008-05-09T11:26:00.922-07:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_z9H_790jqAc/SCSXFd1d37I/AAAAAAAAB70/UBix2YXZDZQ/s1600-h/RaisedByWolves.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_z9H_790jqAc/SCSXFd1d37I/AAAAAAAAB70/UBix2YXZDZQ/s200/RaisedByWolves.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5198445990056419250" border="0" /></a><br />Check <a href="http://thechunkypurse.blogspot.com/2008/05/review-were-you-raised-by-wolves.html">this </a>out. Pretty cool book if you need a graduate gift anytime soon.<br /><br /><br /><br />Thank you for visiting today.<br /><br />Did you like this blog post? Please consider subscribing here:<br /><p><a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/LettersToMyDaughters" rel="alternate" type="application/rss+xml"><img alt="" style="border: 0pt none ; vertical-align: middle;" src="http://www.feedburner.com/fb/images/pub/feed-icon16x16.png" /></a> <a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/LettersToMyDaughters" rel="alternate" type="application/rss+xml">Subscribe in a reader</a></p><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><script src="http://www.google-analytics.com/urchin.js" type="text/javascript"> </script> <script type="text/javascript"> _uacct = "UA-1564863-1"; urchinTracker(); </script></div>Shawnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16038370158284663729noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8696496724271056053.post-41911656047306512492008-05-08T09:54:00.000-07:002008-05-08T09:56:54.783-07:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_z9H_790jqAc/SCMwteYT6MI/AAAAAAAAB7k/obG53POY3yE/s1600-h/That+Baby.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_z9H_790jqAc/SCMwteYT6MI/AAAAAAAAB7k/obG53POY3yE/s200/That+Baby.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5198051952722962626" border="0" /></a><br />Please check out <a href="http://thechunkypurse.blogspot.com/2008/05/review-that-baby-cddvd.html">my review</a> today for <a href="http://www.thatbabydvd.com/">That Baby CD and DVD set</a>. I must be a kid because I am so digging this set!!<br /><br />Thank you for visiting today.<br /><br />Did you like this blog post? Please consider subscribing here:<br /><p><a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/LettersToMyDaughters" rel="alternate" type="application/rss+xml"><img alt="" style="border: 0pt none ; vertical-align: middle;" src="http://www.feedburner.com/fb/images/pub/feed-icon16x16.png" /></a> <a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/LettersToMyDaughters" rel="alternate" type="application/rss+xml">Subscribe in a reader</a></p><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><script src="http://www.google-analytics.com/urchin.js" type="text/javascript"> </script> <script type="text/javascript"> _uacct = "UA-1564863-1"; urchinTracker(); </script></div>Shawnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16038370158284663729noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8696496724271056053.post-49436538413429664562008-05-07T18:30:00.000-07:002008-05-08T02:59:32.002-07:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_z9H_790jqAc/SCLOHOYT6KI/AAAAAAAAB7U/CjKAQRmE84c/s1600-h/shawn+and+girls.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_z9H_790jqAc/SCLOHOYT6KI/AAAAAAAAB7U/CjKAQRmE84c/s400/shawn+and+girls.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5197943543453444258" border="0" /></a><br />Dear Jadyn and Liana:<br /><br />I've known for a week that this letter was coming your way. But, it's taken six days to get here, to this point when I could write it with confidence, with honesty and with peace in my heart.<br /><br />You see, I really thought that I had this motherhood thing all worked out long before you even arrived. I didn't think I needed to meet you to know how life would be with you here.<br /><br />I was wrong. I'm making it all up as we go. I might pretend some days to know more than others. There other times, like this week, when I look like I do not know what I am doing at all. In some cases, also this week, I might seem like I do not want to be here at all.<br /><br />I do, though. Very much. Maybe even too much, which is why I rarely leave your sight.<br /><br />I whisper in your ears all the time that I will never leave you, always love you, here for you always. And, I mean it. I mean it more than anything.<br /><br />It is with all of this in mind that I tell you today that I will be returning to work full-time later this summer, I will drop this life we've created together and bring us back to a new starting point where we don't know which way is up.<br /><br />I do it not for me. I do it for you, for our family. Because I know in my heart it is the right thing to do. It is so. There is nothing to question other than leaving you in the care of others and I'm going to put my faith in this as well.<br /><br />I've been reading about <a href="http://soesposito.blogspot.com/2008/04/soul-gold.html">Personal Legends</a> just for this purpose. I'm still learning, trying to figure out what my personal legend is and why I've been tapped for this job right now when I wasn't even looking beyond today's spilled milk.<br /><br />You see, this job is not just a job. It's a chance, an opportunity <a href="http://www.pahouse.com/">to be a part</a> of trying to make the world a better place for you. For your right now. For your tomorrow. For your friends tomorrows. For when you become a woman, a wife, a mother.<br /><br />And since jobs like this do not drop in a chocolate-stained mother's lap often, I know enough about personal legends, serendipity, life's chances and luck to know that I should grab this opportunity and go with it. I'm going to ride the wave holding on tightly to you as I flow along, making it all up. If we end up at the end standing side by side with a rainbow ahead of us, then we'll know it was right. If the ride is too bumpy or too scary or too wrong, we can fix it and get things right back to where we are now, where everything is the same and changing all the while.<br /><br />The funny thing is that to this very week in my life, everything was planned out perfectly. Things didn't always go as planned, but many things did. Some things, including your father and you, came a little later than I planned. But, it all came and I always felt I helped made it happen. But, this week, I actually realized that it's only been with the help of the universe that I've been able to reach these treasures.<br /><br />It's a curve ball, for sure. I thought you and I would grow up together. And we will; I'll just be letting you grow up with some other people as well. I know you will thrive; I saw it in your eyes today playing with your friends Noah and Logan in a bucket of water. You need to be around other kids; to learn the silliness of childhood, learning to dunk your head in to life and blow bubbles -- things I couldn't make up if I tried.<br /><br />Everything I've become since the day you were born will remain. The essence of our family, of our souls, the connection we've built will still be here each morning when you wake and each night when you lie down for sleep. We'll cram everything else -- all the art projects and field trips -- into all the other parts of the week.<br /><br />Basically, I'm throwing it all out the window, hoping that someone in charge of this life will hang on to it all and keep us safe.<br /><br /><br /><br />Thank you for visiting today.<br /><br />Did you like this blog post? Please consider subscribing here:<br /><p><a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/LettersToMyDaughters" rel="alternate" type="application/rss+xml"><img alt="" style="border: 0pt none ; vertical-align: middle;" src="http://www.feedburner.com/fb/images/pub/feed-icon16x16.png" /></a> <a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/LettersToMyDaughters" rel="alternate" type="application/rss+xml">Subscribe in a reader</a></p><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><script src="http://www.google-analytics.com/urchin.js" type="text/javascript"> </script> <script type="text/javascript"> _uacct = "UA-1564863-1"; urchinTracker(); </script></div>Shawnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16038370158284663729noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8696496724271056053.post-47624960662981105912008-05-06T19:05:00.000-07:002008-05-06T19:23:44.037-07:00<span style="font-weight: bold;">-- pshhhhhhhhhh -- </span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Something. Is. Not. Very. Good. Here.<br /><br />Little. Strange. People. Living. In. House.<br /><br />Do. Not. Understand. Them.<br /><br />Worried. I. Can't. Make. It. Another. Day.<br /><br />Torture. Has. Begun.</span><br /><br />Dear Universe:<br /><br />I've been going through the motions of this ride called Motherhood this week and just about each step has made me question if, perhaps, my house and life has been invaded by sources from another planet.<br /><br />These are not my children. They can't be mine. There's no way they came out of me.<br /><br />No, sirs or madams. Please send me back my sweet toddlers, who threw tantrums and cried only half the day -- not all day.<br /><br />Please, I beg you, return my little angels in one piece and statements like, "Just Shoot Me Now," shall never be uttered again. I swear on your spacey-aged music.<br /><br />For if you leave these "foreign objects" here any longer I am afraid I will need my own gadget to ride me out of here, to a place where I will suddenly understand the language, where "no" means no, "yes" means yes and we can all pick one or the other instead of staying somewhere in the middle of yesnoyesnoyesno land.<br /><br />And the hitting. I'm sorry, but hitting, pinching, slapping, kicking and throwing should mean time out and time out should mean stop what you just did and that means don't do it again -- NOT two seconds later.<br /><br />And, please take with you all articles of clothing that look remotely cool enough for 2 toddlers to want to wear at the same time. And shove our ONE swing in that vehicle of yours, too, because if I have to drag another child out of it to put another one into it, well, let's just say that meteors will be the least of your troubles.<br /><br />Finally, if you bring my girls back, I am sure that I will at least be able to keep a shiny, happy smiling face on until 8/ 8:15 a.m. which I understand this week has been a bit of a stretch.<br /><br />I have tried my best to take care of your space children, though I understand you may think otherwise. At least I get them out of their beds in the morning as they cry frantically for their daddy, who is at work and will not be home for 12 hours. At least I hug them and apologize for the fifth time that hour that we do not have a car today and no we can't go for a ride. And, I swear that I will not lose my temper, again, when they are brawling on the kitchen floor and I haven't even poured the breakfast cereal in the bowl.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Please. Beam. That. Earthling. Who. Thought. I. Could. Handle. Two. 2-year-olds.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Please. Send. Help.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">--pshhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh -- </span><br /><br /><br /><br />Thank you for visiting today.<br /><br />Did you like this blog post? Please consider subscribing here:<br /><p><a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/LettersToMyDaughters" rel="alternate" type="application/rss+xml"><img alt="" style="border: 0pt none ; vertical-align: middle;" src="http://www.feedburner.com/fb/images/pub/feed-icon16x16.png" /></a> <a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/LettersToMyDaughters" rel="alternate" type="application/rss+xml">Subscribe in a reader</a></p><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><script src="http://www.google-analytics.com/urchin.js" type="text/javascript"> </script> <script type="text/javascript"> _uacct = "UA-1564863-1"; urchinTracker(); </script></div>Shawnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16038370158284663729noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8696496724271056053.post-78320579458569393072008-05-06T15:43:00.000-07:002008-05-06T15:46:10.338-07:00Remember that list I wrote a while back about <a href="http://www.letterstomydaughters.com/2008/03/5-great-gifts-for-mommy-bloggers.html">what to buy mommy blogger's</a> for Mother's Day ... it's been discovered! Be sure to check it out and send it along to friends this holiday.<br /><br />You can see the Skirt listing <a href="http://www.sk-rt.com/upcoming.php">here</a>. If you haven't connected yourself with Sk'rt, you should, and do so before they change the name, which will be very soon. It's just for us.<br /><br />Thank you for visiting today.<br /><br />Did you like this blog post? Please consider subscribing here:<br /><p><a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/LettersToMyDaughters" rel="alternate" type="application/rss+xml"><img alt="" style="border: 0pt none ; vertical-align: middle;" src="http://www.feedburner.com/fb/images/pub/feed-icon16x16.png"/></a> <a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/LettersToMyDaughters" rel="alternate" type="application/rss+xml">Subscribe in a reader</a></p><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><script src="http://www.google-analytics.com/urchin.js" type="text/javascript"> </script> <script type="text/javascript"> _uacct = "UA-1564863-1"; urchinTracker(); </script></div>Shawnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16038370158284663729noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8696496724271056053.post-90336918363729321972008-05-04T17:22:00.000-07:002008-05-04T18:45:21.557-07:00<object width="425" height="355"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/2jSJ35FuuSA&hl=en"></param><param name="wmode" value="transparent"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/2jSJ35FuuSA&hl=en" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="355"></embed></object><br /><br />Thank you for visiting today.<br /><br />Did you like this blog post? Please consider subscribing here:<br /><p><a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/LettersToMyDaughters" rel="alternate" type="application/rss+xml"><img alt="" style="border: 0pt none ; vertical-align: middle;" src="http://www.feedburner.com/fb/images/pub/feed-icon16x16.png"/></a> <a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/LettersToMyDaughters" rel="alternate" type="application/rss+xml">Subscribe in a reader</a></p><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><script src="http://www.google-analytics.com/urchin.js" type="text/javascript"> </script> <script type="text/javascript"> _uacct = "UA-1564863-1"; urchinTracker(); </script></div>Shawnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16038370158284663729noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8696496724271056053.post-6882615377247926962008-05-02T03:43:00.000-07:002008-05-06T15:46:54.980-07:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_z9H_790jqAc/SBr06OHItaI/AAAAAAAAB7A/Jv4Q5wOpmkM/s1600-h/IMG_4736.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_z9H_790jqAc/SBr06OHItaI/AAAAAAAAB7A/Jv4Q5wOpmkM/s200/IMG_4736.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5195734401182905762" /></a><br />"You can't get on this truck," the 3-year-old boy said, towering from above as we walked into a new, unfamiliar mall play area. "It's for big kids. And, you're babies!"<br /><span style="font-style:italic;">Redirect to the slide.<br />Boy scurries over to the slide, hops on and blocks all entrances.</span><br />"You can't come up here. This is for Big Kids and you're babies."<br /><span style="font-style:italic;">Redirect to the airplane.<br />Boy runs over and hops onto a wing.</span><br />"You can't come up here. This airplane is for Big Kids and you're babies."<br /><span style="font-style:italic;">Redirect to other side where babyish toys stand. Spot half-dozing grandmother not paying an ounce of attention to boy.</span><br />"Is that your child?"<br />"Yes, did he do something?"<br />"Well, yes, he's blocking the equipment so my daughters cannot get on and calling them babies."<br />"Thank you for telling me."<br /><span style="font-style:italic;">Redirect to another location while grandmother scolds boy and makes him apologize.</span><br />"I'm sorry, Big Kids!" the boy yelled passing by and leaving them alone.<br /><br />*****<br /><br />An hour before dinner. A beautiful afternoon after a groggy rainy day. Wheels.<br />We were off for a walk.<br />Redirect. The story of my life right now. Redirect. Redirect. Redirect.<br />"Let's try a new walk today," I ring out.<br />"Yeah," the girls say, not knowing where we were heading in the first place.<br />"Walk," Jadyn whines.<br />"Walk!"<br />"We have to drive there, OK?"<br />"Walk!"<br />When we arrive we instantly see a dog romping through the grass.<br />My heart races. We've committed. There's no turning back without crying. Lots of it.<br />I hesitate. I wait.<br />Doggie goes off in the distance.<br />We get out and start walking.<br />We see more dogs. More dogs. More dogs.<br />I'm nervous, wondering how I get myself into <a href="http://www.letterstomydaughters.com/2008/03/safe-in-city.html">these situations</a>.<br />We walk to the edge where there are about a dozen dogs playing off leash in what is not a dog park.<br />An older man with his dog are about to leave and spot us. He trots his dog Mindy over and we meet.<br />"You don't want to go over there," he said. "Not with them."<br />"I wasn't going to," I tell him, adding that my daughters love to "hug" dogs.<br />"I'm John; who are you?"<br />We introduce ourselves, share the news that we've never been to this park before.<br />"You walking back?" he motions.<br />"Yes, let's walk back to the car with Mindy," I say.<br />Liana turns with a smile and reaches up with her small, soft hand for John's hand.<br />She manages to grab his two aging fingers and hang on to them for the whole walk back.<br />It was a hard good-bye, leaving all of those dogs and John who was standing there, flopping his hat on and off for amusement.<br />Jadyn and Liana tossed him a kiss and he beamed as we drove away.<br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0); font-weight: bold;">How about you? Have <a href="http://www.letterstomydaughters.com/2008/03/f-u-n-injection.html">any fun moments to share that involve your kids</a>? Something that gets you out of your comfort zone a bit, breaks your own long standing rules? Something your glad you got out of the car for?</span><br /><br /><br />Thank you for visiting today.<br /><br />Did you like this blog post? Please consider subscribing here:<br /><p><a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/LettersToMyDaughters" rel="alternate" type="application/rss+xml"><img alt="" style="border: 0pt none ; vertical-align: middle;" src="http://www.feedburner.com/fb/images/pub/feed-icon16x16.png" /></a> <a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/LettersToMyDaughters" rel="alternate" type="application/rss+xml">Subscribe in a reader</a></p><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><script src="http://www.google-analytics.com/urchin.js" type="text/javascript"> </script> <script type="text/javascript"> _uacct = "UA-1564863-1"; urchinTracker(); </script></div>Shawnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16038370158284663729noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8696496724271056053.post-83635458411577859732008-05-01T02:52:00.000-07:002008-05-01T03:34:28.288-07:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_z9H_790jqAc/SBmXd-HItYI/AAAAAAAAB6w/S4UnmNvGtb8/s1600-h/IMG_4679.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_z9H_790jqAc/SBmXd-HItYI/AAAAAAAAB6w/S4UnmNvGtb8/s200/IMG_4679.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5195350186293507458" border="0" /></a><br />The funny thing about considering going back to work full-time -- by back, I mean return since I was in the workforce once before as a mother -- is that recently I've begun getting really annoyed by the so-called media-hyped Mommy Wars. But, it's not just the media, unfortunately. <a href="http://www.workitmom.com/">Web sites</a> are being created for working moms, too, answering things like how to fix dinner or stay social when working because, you know, stay-at-home moms have nothing to do but cook and talk on the phone all day.<br /><br />Since I've been on both sides of the battle line I know the challenges, the advantages, the joys and sorrows of each. I <a href="http://www.letterstomydaughters.com/2007/05/dear-girls-if-i-sit-still-long-enough.html">know them very well</a>, in fact.<br /><br />We all struggle with finding time doing the ordinary, the stuff we don't like so we can have more time doing the things we do like. Each season brings a new obstacle to figure out and make our own. And, since my mom always worked I know it is still possible to mother well while working. I also know that she missed out on a lot of memory-making, too, because she was busy preparing for working.<br /><br />Both "sides" have it equally hard for so many reasons.<br /><br />But I know <span style="font-weight: bold;">three </span>things I'm certain about:<br /><br />The first is that I do have more quality time with my girls now than I would if I worked. Nothing beats our no-rush mornings lying in my bed giggling under the covers before our breakfast that includes entertainment of silly noises and clapping for each other's big bites. And, I cannot imagine a better way to spend a childhood than taking long walks in the park as often as possible or lounging in the backyard in the afternoon, filling ourselves with fresh air and nature's best toys.<br /><br />The second thing is that by working I would certainly avoid the often dead-beat feeling of being a mother, such as doing the mundane chores while dealing with simultaneous tantrums, or putting their clothes back on several times in one hour or making yet another grilled cheese lunch because, frankly, I just don't know what else to make besides peanut butter and jelly anymore. In other words, I'd get out of a lot of the crap work and get to spend more time just being the cool Mommy.<br /><br />The third is that no caregiver could do what I do as their Mama. In a way that is comforting to me. But in other ways it is not. You see, I am that Mama who would make and <a href="http://www.letterstomydaughters.com/2008/04/wwyd-urgent.html">fly a kite</a>. I am that Mama who creates backyard painting projects. I am that Mama who goes on field trips. That's the Mama I love being; that's the one that I wish could be every minute of the week.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_z9H_790jqAc/SBmXt-HItZI/AAAAAAAAB64/VD6U-85NR7g/s1600-h/IMG_4727.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_z9H_790jqAc/SBmXt-HItZI/AAAAAAAAB64/VD6U-85NR7g/s200/IMG_4727.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5195350461171414418" border="0" /></a><br /><br />These three points are not perfect or black or white. There are certainly times/days/weeks that are better for quality time than others. And, there will still be crap work as a work-out-of-the-home Mama. I know how easy it is to complain about being at home all day, but I also know that I'm lucky to be here, that I still look forward to Mondays when it's just me and the girls.<br /><br />But, I will say this: All the comments were wonderful yesterday. I appreciated all of them and took them all into account. I do have a great village. Certainly, I am approaching this from the top of the fence knowing the pros and the cons, knowing the challenges for each. Like a good journalist, I'm gathering facts and weighing their importance. <br /><br />And I do not know which way I am leaning right now. I do know that by writing this post I learned a little more about the gray areas of the situation, the part that wasn't easily written on a pros and cons list. In the meantime, <a href="http://www.letterstomydaughters.com/2008/01/2008-year-of-writing.html">deadlines </a>are looming. <br /><br />Thank you for visiting today.<br /><br />Did you like this blog post? Please consider subscribing here:<br /><p><a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/LettersToMyDaughters" rel="alternate" type="application/rss+xml"><img alt="" style="border: 0pt none ; vertical-align: middle;" src="http://www.feedburner.com/fb/images/pub/feed-icon16x16.png" /></a> <a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/LettersToMyDaughters" rel="alternate" type="application/rss+xml">Subscribe in a reader</a></p><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><script src="http://www.google-analytics.com/urchin.js" type="text/javascript"> </script> <script type="text/javascript"> _uacct = "UA-1564863-1"; urchinTracker(); </script></div>Shawnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16038370158284663729noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8696496724271056053.post-40807770299453312772008-04-30T17:57:00.000-07:002008-04-30T04:31:59.798-07:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_z9H_790jqAc/SBhYPuHItXI/AAAAAAAAB6o/U58kW9od9hc/s1600-h/rockabye.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_z9H_790jqAc/SBhYPuHItXI/AAAAAAAAB6o/U58kW9od9hc/s200/rockabye.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5194999197271111026" border="0" /></a><br />Last year when I stumbled upon Rebecca Woolf's <a href="http://girlsgonechild.blogspot.com/">Girls Gone Child</a> blog, I was instantly captured by her wit and honesty and beauty.<br /><br />I am not one to be smitten with the Famous (well, <a href="http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0000136/">there's</a> a <a href="http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0000572/">few </a><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Troy_Aikman">people </a>I've idolized) but Woolf's writing style had me at first click. She's been on my blog roll since I've had one and it's only been in the last week that she's even known that I existed.<br /><br />I'm a lucky woman these days being offered to review products in exchange for a freebie. For a one-income family and a starving artist writer mommy, this has truly been a blessing for me.<br /><br />There are some books I have, especially right now, I put off reading once they arrive in the mail.<br /><br />Woolf's memoir, <a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/1580052320/002-8326968-1036867?ie=UTF8&amp;tag=letttomydaug-20&amp;linkCode=xm2&amp;camp=1789&amp;creativeASIN=1580052320">"Rockabye</a>," is not one of them. From the gorgeous cover to the witty synopsis on the back, I was ready to roll up my sleeves and get reading.<br /><br />I read books on Mama Time now so it took me two weeks to read it, but that's not because I didn't want to sit down and devour it. It is, in fact, a fabulous read that, more importantly, gets a Mama thinking.<br /><br />If you know a woman who is pregnant for the first time, pregnant unexpectantly or just a little shell-shocked by the fact that a human being is growing inside her body, this book will make a great addition to that baby shower gift. If you have ever struggled with fitting in as a mother, following the rules or breaking them as a mother or wanting more than just caring for your kids then this book is for you.<br /><br />Just like her blog -- with many of the same themes -- "Rockabye" leads you on a long walk in Hollywood, where you learn quickly that Woolf is truly a gem of a mom in a city that could easily swallow up a new mom in a single vegan bite.<br /><br />This book made me laugh out loud and I was sharing bits with my husband -- especially about her arguments with her husband, Hal.<br /><br />I think about Woolf's story often since finishing - especially yesterday when I had two toddlers hugging my legs to the point I could not move. Their strength is amazing to me. Woolf described a time when her son Archer was physically assaulting her and she seriously felt like he was going to kill her. I laughed so hard at that, knowing how that feels, like you might not escape this one (at least not without hurting the child).<br /><br />What says with me most, though, is her confidence as a mother to let her children be children and to not worry about what others are doing and thinking. She demonstrates how she insists that Archer isn't put in a box and raised to be like every other child because he is not like every other child. He is Archer.<br /><br />There's some lessons to be learned in that.<br /><br />Seriously. Check out her book if you have an extra $10 around somewhere. It truly is worth reading.<br /><br />Be sure to read <a href="http://www.letterstomydaughters.com/2008/04/interview-rebecca-woolf-of-girls-gone.html">my interview with Woolf</a>. And, check out the other reviews of "Rockabye" as well at <a href="http://blog.parentbloggers.com/2008/04/27/rockabye-from-wild-to-child-heres-what-theyre-saying-so-far/">The Parent Bloggers Network blog</a>.<br /><br />Thank you for visiting today.<br /><br />Did you like this blog post? Please consider subscribing here:<br /><p><a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/LettersToMyDaughters" rel="alternate" type="application/rss+xml"><img alt="" style="border: 0pt none ; vertical-align: middle;" src="http://www.feedburner.com/fb/images/pub/feed-icon16x16.png" /></a> <a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/LettersToMyDaughters" rel="alternate" type="application/rss+xml">Subscribe in a reader</a></p><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><script src="http://www.google-analytics.com/urchin.js" type="text/javascript"> </script> <script type="text/javascript"> _uacct = "UA-1564863-1"; urchinTracker(); </script></div>Shawnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16038370158284663729noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8696496724271056053.post-40137394356078978552008-04-29T18:54:00.000-07:002008-04-29T19:03:43.947-07:00What if after more than a year of being at home, being just a little more than just a mom and someone – no, not just someone – a very important someone called upon you for a very big job?<p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">What if the mere thought of leaving your daughters made you sick to your stomach, and yet the job is enticing and interesting and perfect enough to get your mind racing about it?</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Could you imagine dropping your daughters off at day care, wondering about their day and picking them back up only to have a couple hours before bed to spend time with them?</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Would evenings and weekends – and some holidays – be enough?</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Does the sound of your own high heels clicking on the tile floors excite you or make you cringe?</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">And skirts? You hate skirts, right? Especially after day after day in sweatpants and T-shirts, right?</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Why on earth do you need the money anyway? You’re fine living just above the line on one-income.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">It’s just money, right? And most of that would go to day care, yes?</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">What would your daughters want from you? What is best for them? To be stuck at home some days of the week with their crazy mommy asking them to do crazy art projects yet again? Or, playing and learning to socialize and get along with other kids every day of the week?</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">What would they want? What do they need right now -- to play and learn, right. Wouldn't they like to do that with friends?</p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Do you think they can learn as well from someone else?</p><p class="MsoNormal">Would they understand why you are suddenly leaving them every day?</p><p class="MsoNormal">Can you imagine leaving the one that cries for you when you only leave the room let alone for an entire day, for an entire week for weeks on end? Would she eventually stop crying for me?</p>What if it's for a job that could change lives? What if it's for a job that puts nothing above serving and caring for fellow human beings? <p class="MsoNormal"></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Dear Counsel of the Internets: WWYD?</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>Thank you for visiting today.<br /><br />Did you like this blog post? Please consider subscribing here:<br /><p><a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/LettersToMyDaughters" rel="alternate" type="application/rss+xml"><img alt="" style="border: 0pt none ; vertical-align: middle;" src="http://www.feedburner.com/fb/images/pub/feed-icon16x16.png" /></a> <a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/LettersToMyDaughters" rel="alternate" type="application/rss+xml">Subscribe in a reader</a></p><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><script src="http://www.google-analytics.com/urchin.js" type="text/javascript"> </script> <script type="text/javascript"> _uacct = "UA-1564863-1"; urchinTracker(); </script></div>Shawnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16038370158284663729noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8696496724271056053.post-24845090638620653372008-04-28T18:09:00.000-07:002008-04-29T07:08:24.781-07:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_z9H_790jqAc/SBZ2UuHItVI/AAAAAAAAB6Y/JFVGFtyTmG8/s1600-h/RebeccaArcherAuthorPhoto.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_z9H_790jqAc/SBZ2UuHItVI/AAAAAAAAB6Y/JFVGFtyTmG8/s200/RebeccaArcherAuthorPhoto.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5194469318565868882" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:arial;">There's little secrets left to tell about Rebecca Woolf, well-known mom blogger of <a href="http://girlsgonechild.blogspot.com/">Girls Gone Child</a> fame and mother to sweet little Archer.</span> <span style="font-family:arial;">On her blog, and in her recently published memoir, <a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/1580052320/002-8326968-1036867?ie=UTF8&amp;tag=letttomydaug-20&amp;linkCode=xm2&amp;camp=1789&amp;creativeASIN=1580052320">Rockabye</a>, Woolf is a tell-all kind of writer and woman. I admire that immensely. </span> <span style="font-family:arial;">Though we lead extremely different lives, an interview with her makes me realize how alike we actually are -- and maybe that is why I've always been a big fan of her blog and writing.</span> <span style="font-family:arial;">I'll be reviewing Woolf's book tomorrow for The Parent Bloggers Network. In the meantime, check out her blog and this interview with this rocking Mama. Believe me, you'll want to stick around to see this one end. Here goes ...</span></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><o:p> </o:p></span> <p style="font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span>Shawn @ Between the Lines</span>: Thank you so much for taking the time to answer questions. I’m sure you are extremely busy now that your book tour for your memoir, “Rockabye” has kicked off. I’m also sure it’s a thrilling kind of busy. Many of my readers and I are aspiring writers through either non-fiction or fiction so reading and reviewing your book was a real treat for me. You were one of the first Bloggers I read on a regular basis and I have always admired your honesty and great love for your son.<o:p><br /></o:p></span></p><p style="font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:85%;"><o:p></o:p>First, please tell me how Girls Gone Child came to be. It’s a great name and seems very well thought out. Did you do much research before starting? Did your blogging style and voice evolve over time? And, how did you build your readership?</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;font-family:arial;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><o:p><span style="font-weight: bold;">WOOLF</span>: </o:p>I started blogging in 2002. I had a personal blog called Pointy Toe Shoe Factory (pointytoeshoefactory.com is now defunct), a blog I started as a travel (and life) log when I was 21. My slogan was: “prove your pointy” and I used shoes as my ongoing metaphor for life… the journey… a young single-girl and her experiences. When Archer was born, PTSF didn’t really fit my lifestyle anymore. I was introduced to a few mom-blogs, Bite My Cookie (<a href="http://bite-my-cookie.blogspot.com/">http://bite-my-cookie.blogspot.com</a>) was really what inspired me. And it’s author, Dana has since become one of my best friends.<span style=""> </span>My blog was originally named Childbearing Hipster but then I found that there was another Childbearing Hipster so I changed the name to Girl’s Gone Child after a brainstorm sesh. My slogan: “Welcome to the new titty-flashing all nighter” because, well, when you become a mother, your tits pretty much become breasts and all-nighters become very different all-nighters then the ones we remember from our single-years.<span style=""> </span>I mean… right?</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;font-family:arial;"></p><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_z9H_790jqAc/SBcrpeHItWI/AAAAAAAAB6g/eCvGs7m8tN4/s1600-h/rockabye.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_z9H_790jqAc/SBcrpeHItWI/AAAAAAAAB6g/eCvGs7m8tN4/s200/rockabye.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5194668686652781922" border="0" /></a><br /><p style="font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:85%;"><o:p><span>SHAWN</span>: </o:p>I must say that there are many lines and sections of your book that I had thought to myself and even though I’m considered to be a pretty truthful blogger, your book comes and out says things that only I’ve ever thought to myself. How did you discover your writer voice and has that voice always been candid and transparent? If not, when and how did it evolve over the years?</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;font-family:arial;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><o:p><span style="font-weight: bold;">WOOLF</span>: </o:p>I have no shame. I was never to cross my legs under my chair and sit quietly at the table and that’s gotten me into loads of trouble but it has also allowed me to open up and be honest with myself and my peers. I’ve always been very comfortable talking about the burps and farts of life, the fears and failures. I think it makes me a more interesting writer and person to show flaws. I don’t close my doors, because there is nothing I have going on behind them that is exceptionally unique. We’re all having different versions of the same experience. I want to relate to people and in turn, hope they can relate to me. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;font-family:arial;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><o:p></o:p>I think honesty is one of the greatest gifts we can give to one another, especially as women. One can have grace and class and still talk about her post-partum vagina. And I think we owe it to one another to be candid and open and real, especially when it comes to the things that isolate us most (marriage, motherhood…) For instance I was appalled that no one told me about the physical aftereffects of childbirth. The pain and the bleeding and the fear that sex will never be what it was before childbirth. I was deathly afraid of sexual surrender, mainly because I didn’t have anyone to talk to about it at the time. It makes me feel less alone to open up to people, just as I hope it makes people feel less alone to be opened up to. </span></p> <p style="font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:85%;"><o:p><span>SHAWN</span>: </o:p>I was overly excited to see your book placement on the shelves – smack dab between Mary Wolstencraft and Virginia Woolf. It seems more than fitting considering for you and your memoir. Then, I saw that you quote Virginia Woolf in the beginning of your book. Virginia Woolf is one of my favorite writers. How has Woolf been an inspiration to you as a woman, as a mother and as a writer? What other writers, historic or present day, have you considered your muse, of sorts?</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;font-family:arial;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><o:p><span style="font-weight: bold;">WOOLF</span>: </o:p>Virgina Woolf was always fascinating to me (as a child) mainly because we shared a last name. When I was old enough to appreciate Woolf I read a great many of her works.<span style=""> </span>A Room of One’s Own is by far my favorite work of Woolf’s, one I would highly recommend to any woman and writer.<span style=""></span><o:p> </o:p>The quote I chose for the book was one I found to be so inspiring, so totally the way I’d define my parenting philosophy and I suppose, general life philosophy (Thinking against the current… puncturing gas bags and discovering the seeds of truth). I didn’t intend to choose a Woolf quote to open the book, I just kind of fell in love with the strength and independence in those words.<o:p><br /></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;font-family:arial;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Anais Nin is a goddess to me. I worship her writing, her thoughts. And of course, Henry Miller who I equally adore for different reasons but as a woman I most identify with Nin. She was a brilliant philosopher, on top of being an incredible writer. I have a tattoo around my waist adapted from her book, House Of Incest “… only the truth dressed up as a fairytale…” it says. She’s my ultimate hero.<span style=""> </span>I also adore Jeanette Winterson’s work (specifically Written on the Body and Art and Lies.) If I could write like anyone I would write like Winterson, but if I could spend time with any writer dead or alive, it would be Anais Nin. <o:p></o:p>Other writers that have been of inspiration to me are Colette, Marguerite Duras, Lawrence Durrell and Sylvia Plath. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><o:p style="font-weight: bold;"><span>SHAWN</span>: </o:p><span style="font-weight: bold;">Congratulations on your pregnancy. You are due Oct. 12 with your second child and have been busy preparing (including the ever-so-important name decisions). Your book gives great details about how hard those first two years as a mother were for you. And yet, you have a very clear, undying love for your son. What will you do differently, if anything, this time around both during your birth and delivery and in that first year or two of mothering a young child?</span><o:p><br /></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;font-family:arial;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><o:p><span style="font-weight: bold;">WOOLF</span>: </o:p>As far as my birth is concerned I had a really terrible experience with my OBGYN last go around so this time, I’ve found a fantastic doctor that has already made this experience so much more delightful than the last. So there’s that. In terms for what I would do differently with my next child, it’s too soon to know. I know how to be a good parent to Archer and will have to get to know this next child in order to be a good parent to him/her. It will be interesting to see if I apply the same parenting philosophies to both children. I definitely believe that each child is unique and should be treated and nurtured as such. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><o:p></o:p>Oh! And this time around I solemnly swear to get my kid a birth certificate. Archer’s almost three and I still haven’t made the trek downtown to the notary to get him one. I know… it’s horrible.<o:p><br /></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">SHAWN</span><span style="font-weight: bold;">: The way you describe today’s modern parents – full of dreams and goals and distractions – was so right on I was practically cheering you on while reading late one night. It really is a fine line to be a mother and to be a dreamer, too, because so much of our life isn’t our own anymore. It’s like walking on a tight rope every day of what we want to do and what has to get done. What advice do you have to offer other dreamers like myself to write that book or pursue any other dreams women might have while caring for young children?</span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;font-family:arial;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><o:p><span style="font-weight: bold;">WOOLF</span>: </o:p>Women are nurturers sometimes to a fault and become a parent exacpterates our desire to nurture. Unfortunately more than not, we forget the importance of nurturing ourselves, so concentrated are we on our families and children. I’ll use the ol’ sex analogy. It’s easiest to lay there, wait for the man to get off and be done with it, but what’s the point, then? What’s the point of sex if there’s no happy ending? What’s in it for anybody? No man wants an unfulfiilled woman. And how many of us are really enjoying ourselves just laying there?<br /></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"><span style="font-size:85%;">With some work and perhaps some self-stimulation, it is possible to “have it all”… To provide and still be provided for. I guess my advice would be to masturbate your creativity. Ha! Set a time every day for you and the things that make you feel whole. Whether that’s working on career aspirations, creative impulses, etc. There is always time for the things we truly love and we owe it to ourselves and our families to feel good about ourselves and what we are doing to better and nurture our own identities. <o:p><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">SHAWN</span><span style="font-weight: bold;">: </span></o:p><span style="font-weight: bold;">How does blogging inspire/motivate/move you as a writer? As a mother? Do you ever think you’ll quit blogging?</span></span></p><span style="font-size:85%;"><o:p></o:p></span><span style="font-size:85%;">Blogging has been very beneficial to me. I love doing it and it’s absolutely made me a better writer, and parent but most of all it’s given me a community of like-minded amazing parents and people and that has been the most inspiring thing of all. </span> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;font-family:arial;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><o:p></o:p>I don’t know if I’ll quit blogging. I will stop blogging about Archer at some point (my cut-off is Kindergarten.). I think at a certain age, our children should make the call as to whether or not they want to be written about. I don’t want to tell Archer’s story for him…It’s his story to tell, after all and I believe it should be up to him whether or not he wants to tell it himself. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p style="font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:85%;"><o:p><span>SHAWN</span>: </o:p>Finally, what’s next for you? Will you delve back into that original dream of yours – to write a novel?</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;font-family:arial;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><o:p><span style="font-weight: bold;">WOOLF</span>:</o:p>Yes! I actually just finished a short script that I’ll be co-producing this summer, in a feature presentation (with four other film-makers.) It’s a very exciting project and I’m the token female on board so I feel kind of scared and special all at once. It’s also my first stab at screenwriting. It’s super low-budget, indie-rock situation but I’m proud of my little script and also am working on a pilot based on Rockabye with my husband, Hal, who’s a producer. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;font-family:arial;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;font-family:arial;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Re: my novel. I’m picking up where I left off last January when I sold Rockabye and had to drop my current novel renovations. I have a lot of work to do yet. The story takes place in <st1:city st="on"><st1:place st="on">San Francisco</st1:place></st1:city> during WWII so I’ve had to do a lot of research and the book’s format is insanity so it’s going to take some time to write it the way I’d like it to read. This is actually my third novel. I finished two but neither were good enough I don’t think. I have high hopes for this new one, though. I think I’m ready to be a novelist. I feel ready. I hope.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" face="arial" style="line-height: 200%;"><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"> <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><o:p></o:p></span>Thank you for visiting today.<br /></p><br />Did you like this blog post? Please consider subscribing here:<br /><p><a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/LettersToMyDaughters" rel="alternate" type="application/rss+xml"><img alt="" style="border: 0pt none ; vertical-align: middle;" src="http://www.feedburner.com/fb/images/pub/feed-icon16x16.png" /></a> <a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/LettersToMyDaughters" rel="alternate" type="application/rss+xml">Subscribe in a reader</a></p><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><script src="http://www.google-analytics.com/urchin.js" type="text/javascript"> </script> <script type="text/javascript"> _uacct = "UA-1564863-1"; urchinTracker(); </script></div>Shawnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16038370158284663729noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8696496724271056053.post-77378626301296538512008-04-28T16:07:00.000-07:002008-04-28T17:41:56.724-07:00Many thanks for a deliciously green conversation about being more eco-friendly. Lots of great ideas so be sure to read through them all and make a list of what you haven't done yet to reduce your carbon footprint.<br /><br />I've talked before about how we have been a one-car family for a year and a half and we try to avoid driving that car -- an SUV -- too much. Dan commutes to work. I walk for groceries when possible.<br /><br />We buy local fruits and vegetables and some meats except in winter when it's just too cold to deal with the walk.<br /><br />We have all CFL bulbs -- which reduced our electric bill GREATLY -- and we are doing our best to recycle everything possible, even coffee grounds at times, which we scattered around rose bushes.<br /><br />Like most people, we have a long way to go, yet, and so I'll be using a lot of those comments everyone left last week.<br /><br />The random winner of the giveaway -- Healthy Child, Healthy World -- is Frugallm at <a href="http://frugal20.blogspot.com/">Frugal 20</a>. Congrats!<br /><br /><br />Thank you for visiting today.<br /><br />Did you like this blog post? Please consider subscribing here:<br /><p><a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/LettersToMyDaughters" rel="alternate" type="application/rss+xml"><img alt="" style="border: 0pt none ; vertical-align: middle;" src="http://www.feedburner.com/fb/images/pub/feed-icon16x16.png" /></a> <a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/LettersToMyDaughters" rel="alternate" type="application/rss+xml">Subscribe in a reader</a></p><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><script src="http://www.google-analytics.com/urchin.js" type="text/javascript"> </script> <script type="text/javascript"> _uacct = "UA-1564863-1"; urchinTracker(); </script></div>Shawnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16038370158284663729noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8696496724271056053.post-841642366059265272008-04-23T03:56:00.001-07:002008-04-28T16:07:09.252-07:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_z9H_790jqAc/SA8W8uHIrzI/AAAAAAAABso/eWTpQzFqM68/s1600-h/bloggy+carnival.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_z9H_790jqAc/SA8W8uHIrzI/AAAAAAAABso/eWTpQzFqM68/s200/bloggy+carnival.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5192394127807393586" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);">CONTEST IS NOW CLOSED; NO MORE COMMENTS ACCEPTED. THANKS FOR A GREAT GIVEAWAY POST! FANTASTIC RESPONSES ALL AROUND.</span><br /><br /><br />I feel like celebrating. How about a giveaway in honor of Hillary Clinton winning big in Pennsylvania???<br /><br />Yup, just leave a comment below telling me what your family has done -- or wants to do -- to help reduce your family's eco-footprint this year.<br /><br />One random winner who has left an <span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0); font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">appropriate </span>comment below will win a copy of the following book: <a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/0525950478/103-6841604-4561416?ie=UTF8&amp;tag=letttomydaug-20&amp;linkCode=xm2&amp;camp=1789&amp;creativeASIN=0525950478">Healthy Child, Healthy World</a>, which I reviewed <a href="http://thechunkypurse.blogspot.com/2008/03/green-is-new-black.html">here</a>. Please, please, please leave an email so I do not have to go hunting you down.<br /><br />(<span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">Oh, and this is a Democratic blogger here talking so no need to try and sway me toward Obama; if he wins, he'll be supported like crazy.) (Anti-Hillary comments will automatically be deleted.) (Comments praising Hillary as president will count twice!! LOL just kidding ... but leave 'em anyway)</span><br /><br />Good luck. The winner will be announced on this blog next Tuesday.<br /><br />For more giveaways, go <a href="http://www.donttrythisathome.typepad.com/bloggy_giveaways">here:</a><br /><br />Did you like this blog post? Please consider subscribing <a href="http://www.donttrythisathome.typepad.com/bloggy_giveaways">here</a>:<br /><p><a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/LettersToMyDaughters" rel="alternate" type="application/rss+xml"><img alt="" style="border: 0pt none ; vertical-align: middle;" src="http://www.feedburner.com/fb/images/pub/feed-icon16x16.png" /></a> <a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/LettersToMyDaughters" rel="alternate" type="application/rss+xml">Subscribe in a reader</a></p><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><script src="http://www.google-analytics.com/urchin.js" type="text/javascript"> </script> <script type="text/javascript"> _uacct = "UA-1564863-1"; urchinTracker(); </script></div>Shawnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16038370158284663729noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8696496724271056053.post-8239051087044674262008-04-22T18:46:00.000-07:002008-04-22T19:14:35.860-07:00The question I get asked second most besides, "Twins?" is actually about how I manage to have a freelance writing career along with caring full-time for my girls.<br /><br />Sometimes I don't know the answer myself. Other times, it's easy for me to understand -- it's because I rarely take on too much than what I know I can handle.<br /><br />That would NOT be the case right now. <br /><br />So, I'm going to skip off into the sunset with sticky little girl fingers and a pile of writing assignments tucked neatly below my eyelids.<br /><br />Not only have we listed our house back on the market (um, not one call, yet), but I'm juggling three other deadlines, taking a freelance pitch e-course and then, of all times, a good-paying assignment (= lots of work) landed in my inbox yesterday and I'm going to need to focus on harder for a week. (<span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);font-size:78%;" >You know, and not worry about comments, not worry about responding to comments, not worry about not reading all of your blogs, and not worry about not having any comments, etc. It's true that this portion of blogging takes up more time than the actual writing the blog itself.</span>) So, all work, including the fun, but not growing, Fun for Moms meme will be suspended on this blog for 7 days.<br /><br />When <span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);font-size:180%;" >$$$</span> calls I must answer and say Hal-low, which is how Jadyn and Liana say it even if<span style="font-weight: bold;"> IT</span> is a pebble or a banana or a small block.<br /><br />Hal-low, Money. Hal-low, Work.<br /><br />I'll return next week with a must-read interview with one of the coolest bloggers in all of the blogoland: Rebecca Woolf from <a href="http://girlsgonechild.blogspot.com/">Girls Gone Child</a>. If you're not a fan yet, you will be. I'll share my interview with her next week along with my review of her book, <a href="http:///">Rockabye</a>. Stay tuned and have a wonderful week.<br /><br /><br />Thank you for visiting today.<br /><br />Did you like this blog post? Please consider subscribing here:<br /><p><a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/LettersToMyDaughters" rel="alternate" type="application/rss+xml"><img alt="" style="border: 0pt none ; vertical-align: middle;" src="http://www.feedburner.com/fb/images/pub/feed-icon16x16.png" /></a> <a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/LettersToMyDaughters" rel="alternate" type="application/rss+xml">Subscribe in a reader</a></p><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><script src="http://www.google-analytics.com/urchin.js" type="text/javascript"> </script> <script type="text/javascript"> _uacct = "UA-1564863-1"; urchinTracker(); </script></div>Shawnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16038370158284663729noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8696496724271056053.post-77752433866782010672008-04-21T18:28:00.001-07:002008-04-21T18:58:43.155-07:00We're celebrating many, many things today at my other blog. <a href="http://thechunkypurse.blogspot.com/2008/04/wiggle-wiggle-wiggle.html">Come on over and check it out.</a><br /><br />Thank you for visiting today.<br /><br />Did you like this blog post? Please consider subscribing here:<br /><p><a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/LettersToMyDaughters" rel="alternate" type="application/rss+xml"><img alt="" style="border: 0pt none ; vertical-align: middle;" src="http://www.feedburner.com/fb/images/pub/feed-icon16x16.png"/></a> <a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/LettersToMyDaughters" rel="alternate" type="application/rss+xml">Subscribe in a reader</a></p><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><script src="http://www.google-analytics.com/urchin.js" type="text/javascript"> </script> <script type="text/javascript"> _uacct = "UA-1564863-1"; urchinTracker(); </script></div>Shawnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16038370158284663729noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8696496724271056053.post-29526649201455019932008-04-20T12:59:00.000-07:002008-04-20T15:50:36.870-07:00<a style="font-family: georgia;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_z9H_790jqAc/SAvHdOAQ2MI/AAAAAAAABsQ/l12TSEiAC28/s1600-h/IMG_4651.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_z9H_790jqAc/SAvHdOAQ2MI/AAAAAAAABsQ/l12TSEiAC28/s400/IMG_4651.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5191462300263962818" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;">You say President!</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;">Madam!</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;">President!</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;">Madam!</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;">President!</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;">These were the words that got to me among a small crowd of thousands at the intersection a half block from our favorite farmer's market.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;">I've taken longer than I thought to write about this because I'm still absorbing it, still mulling over it and what </span><a style="font-family: georgia;" href="http://www.pennlive.com/news/patriotnews/index.ssf?/base/news/120866461482800.xml&amp;coll=1">I heard hours later</a><span style="font-family: georgia;">, long after Hillary Clinton departed for her next Pennsylvania destination.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;">She was compassionate. And stunning. And full of life and passion. When she entered the stage, I couldn't hold the camera to take a picture. I was so moved by her presence.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;">She is fearless, and she is bold. She is everything -- and much more -- than the media has portrayed her these last 15 months.</span><br /><br /><a style="font-family: georgia;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_z9H_790jqAc/SAvG_-AQ2LI/AAAAAAAABsI/VH9K4l2ipFw/s1600-h/IMG_4666.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_z9H_790jqAc/SAvG_-AQ2LI/AAAAAAAABsI/VH9K4l2ipFw/s200/IMG_4666.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5191461797752789170" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;font-family:arial;font-size:100%;" ><br /><br /><br /><br />She is not a quitter, and that's what we teach our children, isn't it? It's what we admire in the world's most courageous leaders. I admire her for that; I think she'll know when it's time to give up. We all do.<br /><br />I learned so much more about her in a half hour than I have from any news report. If this were a job interview, I'd hire her on the spot for her passion for the job, for her details about how she'll do it and for her eagerness to please regular people like me and my urban dwelling neighbors.<br /><br />Hillary speaks to her crowd as if they are intelligent, as if they get it and don't need a lesson in how hard long they've been depressed or repressed: she just lists and lists and lists all that she will do to make things better. Nothing glossy or sensational. Nothing evil or scary. Nothing bitchy or negative. No dreamy speeches with silver linings; just the facts, ma'am.<br /><br />Yes, just the little itsy bitsy old facts that matter more than anything else in a presidential election, Madam.<br /><br />Madam President.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">(Sigh)</span><br /><br /><br />Thank you for visiting today.<br /><br />Did you like this blog post? Please consider subscribing here:<br /><p><a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/LettersToMyDaughters" rel="alternate" type="application/rss+xml"><img alt="" style="border: 0pt none ; vertical-align: middle;" src="http://www.feedburner.com/fb/images/pub/feed-icon16x16.png" /></a> <a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/LettersToMyDaughters" rel="alternate" type="application/rss+xml">Subscribe in a reader</a></p><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span></span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><script src="http://www.google-analytics.com/urchin.js" type="text/javascript"> </script> <script type="text/javascript"> _uacct = "UA-1564863-1"; urchinTracker(); </script></div>Shawnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16038370158284663729noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8696496724271056053.post-38750532512518472662008-04-19T05:10:00.000-07:002008-04-19T05:50:10.368-07:00Our Friday afternoon in preparation for <a href="http://www.hillaryclinton.com/actioncenter/event/view/?id=13286">this</a>:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_z9H_790jqAc/SAnj8-AQ2KI/AAAAAAAABsA/jHChA6SV_K0/s1600-h/IMG_4567.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_z9H_790jqAc/SAnj8-AQ2KI/AAAAAAAABsA/jHChA6SV_K0/s400/IMG_4567.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5190930682096965794" border="0" /></a><br />An after-nap cruise to the local campaign office to snag some stickers.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_z9H_790jqAc/SAnjxuAQ2JI/AAAAAAAABr4/wDSaFVZbT6I/s1600-h/IMG_4570.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_z9H_790jqAc/SAnjxuAQ2JI/AAAAAAAABr4/wDSaFVZbT6I/s400/IMG_4570.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5190930488823437458" border="0" /></a><br />The local campaign office where volunteers ooohed and ahhed over us.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_z9H_790jqAc/SAnjluAQ2II/AAAAAAAABrw/EezB6Nm9z3M/s1600-h/IMG_4575.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_z9H_790jqAc/SAnjluAQ2II/AAAAAAAABrw/EezB6Nm9z3M/s400/IMG_4575.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5190930282665007234" border="0" /></a><br />A flower for Hillary or for Mama or for whomever.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_z9H_790jqAc/SAnjYOAQ2HI/AAAAAAAABro/25vNlqwrwgc/s1600-h/IMG_4589.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_z9H_790jqAc/SAnjYOAQ2HI/AAAAAAAABro/25vNlqwrwgc/s400/IMG_4589.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5190930050736773234" border="0" /></a><br />Giggly girls who forgot all about their stickers.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_z9H_790jqAc/SAnjMuAQ2GI/AAAAAAAABrg/2usiK4qljug/s1600-h/IMG_4604.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_z9H_790jqAc/SAnjMuAQ2GI/AAAAAAAABrg/2usiK4qljug/s400/IMG_4604.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5190929853168277602" border="0" /></a><br />Blowing bubbles toward each other is the most fun we've had in a long time.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_z9H_790jqAc/SAni--AQ2FI/AAAAAAAABrY/uWFdh3YWPE0/s1600-h/IMG_4611.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_z9H_790jqAc/SAni--AQ2FI/AAAAAAAABrY/uWFdh3YWPE0/s400/IMG_4611.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5190929616945076306" border="0" /></a>After a good hand washing, a filling dinner and a good night's sleep, we're off this afternoon to see a presidential candidate in real life.<br /><br />Thank you for visiting today.<br /><br />Did you like this blog post? Please consider subscribing here:<br /><p><a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/LettersToMyDaughters" rel="alternate" type="application/rss+xml"><img alt="" style="border: 0pt none ; vertical-align: middle;" src="http://www.feedburner.com/fb/images/pub/feed-icon16x16.png" /></a> <a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/LettersToMyDaughters" rel="alternate" type="application/rss+xml">Subscribe in a reader</a></p><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><script src="http://www.google-analytics.com/urchin.js" type="text/javascript"> </script> <script type="text/javascript"> _uacct = "UA-1564863-1"; urchinTracker(); </script></div>Shawnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16038370158284663729noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8696496724271056053.post-38459391553059998402008-04-18T10:42:00.001-07:002008-04-18T11:04:06.238-07:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_z9H_790jqAc/SAjiRJ5o9AI/AAAAAAAABrQ/mlm7cLH6bYo/s1600-h/hillary.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_z9H_790jqAc/SAjiRJ5o9AI/AAAAAAAABrQ/mlm7cLH6bYo/s200/hillary.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5190647354887828482" border="0" /></a><br />Just when I thought I had lost hope; that <a href="http://www.usatoday.com/news/washington/2007-01-21-clinton-cover_x.htm">all hope was lost</a>.<br /><br />I woke to <a href="http://www.inyork.com/local/ci_8957362">this news</a> this morning: That Hillary Clinton will be visiting my town tomorrow, a Saturday of all days. Any other day it wouldn't work. But, a Saturday ... oh, my.<br /><br />And, then this afternoon, I learned <a href="http://www.hillaryclinton.com/actioncenter/event/view/?id=13286">this</a>: That Hillary Clinton will be visiting in my town in the very spot of the sidewalk where I walk my girls weekly. She will be just blocks from my home.<br /><br />I am a teary mess of renewed hope and fear of rising hopes; of dreams and inspiring ambitions, of potential and <a href="http://www.letterstomydaughters.com/2008/01/i-tried-repressing-this-post-but.html">real, significant change</a>. This afternoon, I will walk Jadyn and Liana into the local campaign office and find something to wear for their first attempt at learning about the power of women.<br /><br />But, what will we wear?? If only I had ordered T-shirts. Will we get close enough for her to see our future women leaders?<br /><br />(And, to let you know how BIG this moment is for us here in PA my house has been visited and called on twice by Hillary volunteers in the last two hours).<br /><br />Maybe there's a chance I'll get to do <a href="http://www.letterstomydaughters.com/2008/03/another-34-things-week-of-lists.html">that scrapbook </a>after all. Maybe, just maybe, someone who needs to know it, will learn that <a href="http://blogs.reuters.com/trail08/2008/04/17/clinton-says-just-tell-them-im-nice/">she is nice</a>. (If that's what it will take to get a woman president -- for her to be nice than so be it.)<br /><br />If not, at least I have these blog posts. And, drippy mascara on my face. And, two daughters who hopefully will get a better, more fair chance at the podium.<br /><br />I will blog about the event tomorrow evening.<br /><br />Thank you for visiting today.<br /><br />Did you like this blog post? Please consider subscribing here:<br /><p><a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/LettersToMyDaughters" rel="alternate" type="application/rss+xml"><img alt="" style="border: 0pt none ; vertical-align: middle;" src="http://www.feedburner.com/fb/images/pub/feed-icon16x16.png" /></a> <a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/LettersToMyDaughters" rel="alternate" type="application/rss+xml">Subscribe in a reader</a></p><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><script src="http://www.google-analytics.com/urchin.js" type="text/javascript"> </script> <script type="text/javascript"> _uacct = "UA-1564863-1"; urchinTracker(); </script></div>Shawnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16038370158284663729noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8696496724271056053.post-63922178810766828742008-04-18T05:34:00.001-07:002008-04-18T05:46:05.706-07:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_z9H_790jqAc/SAiXiZ5o8_I/AAAAAAAABrI/TJJfjIeOjuo/s1600-h/eggshakes.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_z9H_790jqAc/SAiXiZ5o8_I/AAAAAAAABrI/TJJfjIeOjuo/s200/eggshakes.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5190565187868488690" /></a><br /><br />Our letting go of the rules fun this week was going to be about traveling to Daddy's work, hitting a kid museum ... but then this morning we were struck by the Fun Bug that I wanted to share. I didn't get any pictures ...<br /><br />But, for Easter Mom Mom gave Dan a box of Easter eggs filled with candy. We hid them from the Monsters because they aren't child-friendly and we don't give them candy anyway.<br /><br />I just remembered that they were hidden this morning. I got them down to inspect them and realized as I pulled them out of the box that they would be more than just Easter eggs. They are clear plastic and filled with bright colored hard candies like carrots.<br /><br />Perfect! Music is the one element of fun that I try to mix into our day, whether it be making our own, listening or dancing. It always brings a certain vibrancy to our day and so I know it's an essential ingredient to our better days. <br /><br />They were already made shaker eggs, which among our clan is a big, big, big deal.<br /><br />So, in a circle before the breakfast dishes were cleared we had this fun:<br /><br />Shake them<br />Shake them up high<br />Tap them on the floor<br />Shake them behind your back<br />Shake them by your ears<br />Shake them on your belly<br />Shake them between your legs<br />Shake them down low<br />Shake them to the side<br />Shake them to the other side<br />Tap them together<br />Shake them fast<br />Shake them slow<br />(and the last two were so popular that we did that a few times)<br /><br />We ended with Roll Them, which became a new game in itself.<br /><br />To make your own egg shakers go <a href="http://www.nancymusic.com/PRINThomemade.htm#Plastic%20Egg%20Shakers">here</a>. I suspect that next year, I'll find some new items to store inside to mix it up a bit. But, for now, I think we've found a new fun game to start our mornings with ... add a little music, and let the FUN begin.<br /><br /><br />Thank you for visiting today.<br /><br />Did you like this blog post? Please consider subscribing here:<br /><p><a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/LettersToMyDaughters" rel="alternate" type="application/rss+xml"><img alt="" style="border: 0pt none ; vertical-align: middle;" src="http://www.feedburner.com/fb/images/pub/feed-icon16x16.png" /></a> <a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/LettersToMyDaughters" rel="alternate" type="application/rss+xml">Subscribe in a reader</a></p><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><script src="http://www.google-analytics.com/urchin.js" type="text/javascript"> </script> <script type="text/javascript"> _uacct = "UA-1564863-1"; urchinTracker(); </script></div>Shawnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16038370158284663729noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8696496724271056053.post-36828456468823256322008-04-18T04:07:00.000-07:002008-04-18T04:11:01.266-07:00Do you have any new Fun for Moms ideas to share this week? Time has slipped before my eyes and I have evidence of fun, but it will have to be posted later today.<br /><br />In the meantime, how about linking to a post you've written in the past that involved having some Fun with your Kids ... doesn't have to include pictures or it could. Doesn't have to be long, but it may be.<br /><br />What's your idea of having fun with your kids? Leave a comment or a link with Mr. Linky.<br /><br /><script type="text/javascript" src="http://www.blenza.com/linkies/autolink.php?owner=greatexpectations&postid=18Apr2008&meme=576"></script><br /><br />Thank you for visiting today.<br /><br />Did you like this blog post? Please consider subscribing here:<br /><p><a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/LettersToMyDaughters" rel="alternate" type="application/rss+xml"><img alt="" style="border: 0pt none ; vertical-align: middle;" src="http://www.feedburner.com/fb/images/pub/feed-icon16x16.png" /></a> <a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/LettersToMyDaughters" rel="alternate" type="application/rss+xml">Subscribe in a reader</a></p><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><script src="http://www.google-analytics.com/urchin.js" type="text/javascript"> </script> <script type="text/javascript"> _uacct = "UA-1564863-1"; urchinTracker(); </script></div>Shawnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16038370158284663729noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8696496724271056053.post-84386609851575766742008-04-15T18:42:00.000-07:002008-04-15T19:02:46.090-07:00This post started from a comment on Karen's blog until I realized that I, perhaps, had a little more to say than just a passing comment. (Eh-hem)<br /><br />A book, perhaps. Or, a series of books.<br /><br />As you know, I've been studying the younger set for a little bit now and, well, I've come to realize that I'm absolutely clueless.<br /><br />I just don't get it. I'm starting to think jumping off the rooftop in front of a tractor trailer would be more pleasing at times.<br /><br />Like when one of my girls stuffs her mouth with all of her snack, and her sister's so that her mouth is so filled a milky slobber dribbles from her lips and onto the clean floors.<br /><br />Or, when they pull out the claws over a booster seat. No, silly, not the OTHER booster seat. I'm talking about THAT one, the one that isn't the OTHER one that looks EXACTLY like it. The one that is worth SCRATCHING an eye out over because it's NOT the other one.<br /><br />Or, why they will chatter all morning about going outside or going in the car, but the second we're supposed to actually GO OUTSIDE OR GO IN THE CAR, they are suddenly no where to be found or found sheepishly hiding atop the stairs, waiting. And, by the way, no amount of pleases, come heres or threats work. My butt has to go. upstairs. and. get. her. Rinse and Repeat on some mornings. Some. Very. Bad. Mornings.<br /><br />And, then there's this: It's perfectly fine to get soaking wet after, oh, a half hour playing in dirty water outside, but if a single drop of water gets on her shirt sleeve while washing her hands in the sink all bets are off, and so is that shirt. Or else. There is no reasoning, either. Just. Remove. Shirt. Rinse. Repeat. Five, maybe Six. Times. A. Day.<br /><br />But, toddlerese isn't the only thing I can't translate. I don't really understand husbandese either these days. You know, when he tells me that I'm worrying "too much" and I respond with your not worrying enough. But, I'm considered to be "attacking" and this is why he's harmed for life you see. (I won this one, by the way.)<br /><br />No, I'm not really understanding people right now. They are all too wishy-washy for me. No one can make a decision, yet no one likes any of my decisions.<br /><br />So, yeah, life is feeling a lot like being in <a href="http://mommazen.blogspot.com/2008/04/another-country.html">another country</a>, and I do not speak the native language.<br /><br />Thank you for visiting today.<br /><br />Did you like this blog post? Please consider subscribing here:<br /><p><a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/LettersToMyDaughters" rel="alternate" type="application/rss+xml"><img alt="" style="border: 0pt none ; vertical-align: middle;" src="http://www.feedburner.com/fb/images/pub/feed-icon16x16.png" /></a> <a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/LettersToMyDaughters" rel="alternate" type="application/rss+xml">Subscribe in a reader</a></p><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><script src="http://www.google-analytics.com/urchin.js" type="text/javascript"> </script> <script type="text/javascript"> _uacct = "UA-1564863-1"; urchinTracker(); </script></div>Shawnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16038370158284663729noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8696496724271056053.post-2833761794776374882008-04-14T15:16:00.000-07:002008-04-15T11:30:48.962-07:00Reading is the most enjoyable part of our day. Well, mostly. Not when my twin daughters fight over who gets to turn the page or what book we'll read. But when they really get into a story and laugh and point at the pictures, it's perfect and just how I envisioned my days as a Mama.<br /><br />So, when I was asked by the <a href="http://blog.parentbloggers.com/2008/04/08/your-baby-can-read-starter-dvd-volume-1-campaign-launch/">Parent Bloggers Network</a> to review <a href="http://www.yourbabycanread.com/">Your Baby Can Read</a> Starter DVD and Volume 1 DVD I was pretty excited at the concept. <br /><br />To read the rest of this review <a href="http://thechunkypurse.blogspot.com/2008/04/review-your-baby-can-read.html">please go here</a>.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><script src="http://www.google-analytics.com/urchin.js" type="text/javascript"> </script> <script type="text/javascript"> _uacct = "UA-1564863-1"; urchinTracker(); </script></div>Shawnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16038370158284663729noreply@blogger.com