Being a Reader and a Writer

Because I finished the most amazing book last night...the wee hours of the morning, truth be told. I woke up with my mind, clamoring for a way to describe what I was feeling... and the bottom line?

Being a Reader and a Writer is like being married... [watch the comparisons. I swear, you'll see your writing career in here somewhere]

Seventeen years ago, I married a good-looking, bad boy. Well, he acted like the bad boy--smoked, played cards, drank. But he was...good-looking [have I said that already?], and inside, he was a good guy--even went to church on Sundays. <3 I was so in love...

And we got married. [This is the part where I'm a reader. Looove reading. Can't stop reading. Reading, all night long!]

As happens when you're married [such a good reader], we had kids [I decided to write].

You worry and doubt that you can even raise any kids!! This was a huge deal. What if you let everyone down? What if your kids turned out to be snotty, brats! Or worse, criminals?

But you love those kids so much. They're so danged cute. You don't admit it yet, but there's been a shift. Now it seems like you're spending a lot more time with the kids than with that good-looking guy you married. But it's not bad, because you're on the same page...[speaking of page. This is where I suddenly realize instead of 16 books a month, I'm only doing about 5 books. But the call of that manuscript is strong--and still lovey enough to hold my attention.]

As the kids grow, they begin to demand from you--time, money, ideas. All of a sudden you wake up one morning, and you wonder WTF happened to Us before Them? And you prioritize. You make sure that date money doesn't disappear. And you actually schedule time to be with the good-looking guy you married. [2 years ago, it occurred to me I was reading about 5 books--A. Year! It took me these 2 years to figure out how to rearrange and prioritize my down time, so I could read again.]

[This is me, right now. I've picked up reviewing through Promotion Companies, because I feel it's the only way I can be accountable to my reading! And, one day, in the not too distant future, I'll make it to this next paragraph.]

Eventually the kids mature, they get better with age. They are less demanding and more polished. They will always be a part of your life!! But now, you can enjoy that good-looking guy again. Calls from the kids manage to come during business hours, except for the occasional emergency. Date night [reading] happens more frequently. As a matter of fact, dates are spontaneous and way better than they were all those years ago before you had kids! Sometimes, you even sneak in a date, in the middle of the day! <3


If you haven't had a chance to read one of my reviews yet,

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Being the Oldest -- SWEET AGE of 35 [for Saturday's sake]

It's going to sound like I wrote this before bed last night...that's cuz I did!

My husband joined the military after we'd been married for 12 years. I think that's why we handled the transition so well. The separation didn't seem that big a deal like it did to some of the younger, less certain wives and girlfriends. My soldier and I had already been through more than a lot of couples--seven relocations,  five kids, three pink slips, welfare, arguments, mistakes...and lots of love--enough that I knew joining the Army would be a breeze. If you've been married or with your significant other as long as I have, you probably know what I'm talking about. 

It's what happens when you're confident in yourself. I don't question who I am or if I'm replaceable. 

Sooo, my crazy-butt issue this week [because, yes...i'm a woman, and I still have issues, even if I'm confident] is that I don't think I fit in very well. Maybe this isn't such a bad thing. Maybe it doesn't matter that I'm more than 10 years older than most of the wives associated with my husband's class [he's still in school/training], but that's how it feels to me right now. I'm older...

I'm OLD! 

I'm not hip, like other ladies.
I'm not stylish.
I don't give a crap about Target.
My kids sometimes wear clothes that are stained or NOT cute.
My hair isn't straight.
I'll never drive a new car.
I don't give a crap about Starbucks.
Living in a neighborhood with a homeowners association might kill me.

I don't fit in very well...

And right now, I just want to cry because my son has to wear these stupid braces on his feet. And after putting them on for the first time today, I pretended to be upbeat about them and encouraging but mostly I was just so stinking mad and disappointed and sad. They don't even have a hinge of some sort at the back of the heel! How is he supposed to walk "better" if there's no movement there? if he can't stand on his toes? if he can't extend and contract those muscles like he's supposed to? And I just hated it... because it was just one more thing that makes him different from his peers. He's never going to fit in either!

All of this... and maybe we're better off BECAUSE we don't fit in, but somedays that's harder to accept. This is one of those days, I guess.

I think I need chocolate...
Or wine...
both of which I have.

So, I don't care that this blog post has the feel of a cliffhanger. I'm going to sign out and dry my tears and go watch Knight Rider. 

Take care good friends.
With Love