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Wednesday, February 22, 2006Queen of the RoadI've done it. I've driven 456 miles and back again without my husband. (What, you didn't miss me?) My sister and her husband recently moved to Roanoke from Orlando. My sister was thrilled because she missed the snow. I was thrilled because my sister would be, for the first time in eighteen years, an easy distance away from me. My original plan of driving to Roanoke to help Jamie move into her new house was thwarted by my rib-smashing tumble down the garage steps. Casual mentions of trips to see Jamie went largely unheeded by my life-is-a-bit-too-full-right-now husband. So, after the holidays, I made the daring declaration that I would take the four children and drive to Roanoke, sans Eric. Frightening reality number one: I have absolutely no sense of direction. Frightening reality number two: I have never made a road trip longer than one hour without Eric. Not ever. Needless to say, making the trip to Roanoke was a supreme challenge. And I made it to my sister's front door with bells on. Not a hitch. Not a glitch. Not a single wrong turn or moment of complete confusion. God is good. We had a wonderful visit. My niece is the funniest, brightest, sweetest, loveliest, most challenging toddler I have ever met. I couldn't get enough of her. (Well, unless she was screaming about something. Admittedly, I'd had plenty of her then.) I would have kissed those soft, two-year-old cheeks a million times if she had just stood still long enough. Eric was a little bit concerned about the weather for my return trip. "We've got a wintry mix advisory until six a.m.," he told me the night before my scheduled departure from Roanoke. "Call me later and we'll discuss it." In other words, "Call me later and I'll talk you out of leaving in the morning." So I did what any responsible wife would do. I turned off my cell phone. I was up at six and on the road at seven, as planned. A light snow had fallen, but the roads were just slightly wet with no accumulation or ice. By the time I got onto the highway, the roads weren't even a mild issue. I hit some pockets of snow flurries, but that's a bit wimpy to daunt a seasoned Yankee girl. After an hour or so on the road, I decided to turn on my cell phone. The voicemail message from Eric sounded borderline psychotic. "I've been up for two hours and I'm just sitting here tracking the weather and I couldn't reach you and I called your sister and your mom and well just call me when you get this..." Heavens. So I called him. "The roads are perfectly clear, sweetie. I'm so sorry I didn't have my phone on!" "You turned it off on purpose." Okay, so the guy knows me. But you know what? I made the right decision in leaving when I did. The roads were fine, and by the time we stopped in Knoxville for lunch, the sun was shining. From there, the remaining miles flew by until we arrived home shortly before 3:00. A grand success! Eric says I'm a bad girl, but I can tell he's proud of me. This experience was good for both of us -- I needed to get out from underneath Eric's wings and take flight, and Eric needed to stop overprotecting me. It's nice to be loved the way Eric loves me. I'm glad he cares so deeply about my safety and well-being. But this time, I had to make my own decision. I had to show him that I was capable of taking care of myself and the children without his direct influence. We all love him to pieces and missed him like crazy. But this time, Mommy needed to take care of things by herself, if only to show everybody that she could. (My daughters didn't believe that I could actually drive somewhere without their Daddy. Hmph.) Am I crowing? Yep. Am I going to have to hide my cell phone so that Eric doesn't confiscate it? Probably. Am I going to bring Eric with me the next time I drive to Roanoke? Maybe. Thursday, February 16, 2006November 30
 Wanna hear something weird? On NOVEMBER 30, 1864, the BATTLE OF FRANKLIN was fought. It was one of the bloodiest battles of the Civil War. On NOVEMBER 30, 1899, a memorial statue on the town square in FRANKLIN, Tennessee, was dedicated, to commemorate the battle on its thirty-fifth anniversary. On NOVEMBER 30, 1986, Eric kissed me for the very first time. On NOVEMBER 30, 1999, the Boehme Family moved to FRANKLIN, TENNESSEE -- exactly 100 years after the dedication of the statue on the town square. You think maybe there's some significance to our moving to FRANKLIN, TENNESSEE on November 30? Or have I watched too many Star Trek: The Next Generation episodes? Sunday, February 12, 2006Total AffirmationIt was one of those spur-of-the-moment purchases. I had parked by J. C. Penney simply because I felt like it, and had to cut through the store to get into the mall. When I saw the blue, fuzzy slippers on a seventy-five-percent-off display, I knew that Maggie needed to have them. So I brought the slippers to the nearest checkout counter, where a slim youth, who looked as though he had just accomplished his first full tuft of facial hair, was working. "Hello!" I piped, and handed him my card. "May I see your ID, please?" I flashed my license and smiled at him. "Yep, it's really me!" "You look a lot younger than your age," the lad said. It was an awkward moment; not because I didn't appreciate the compliment, but because I was feeling particularly unattractive. You know what I mean -- the glasses-and-minimal-makeup-since-the-mall-is-nowhere-special look. "You really do look young." "Well, that's only because my kids aren't with me." What else does one say to an eighteen-year-old checkout boy who insists on complimenting her? "I'm serious," he went on. ''I mean, how old are you? Twenty-five?" Okay. He blew it on that one. I knew he'd already seen the year on my driver's license. So I laughed and let it go. The age thing isn't even the reason I'm writing this, though. His next comment absolutely floored me. "Let's see. You must be an artist...or a writer." "Why, yes! Yes, I'm a writer!" Was there a pencil sticking out of my ear? Or was it the glasses? "How -- how could you tell?" "Oh, you've just got that look, you know? That artsy look." I've got that look! It's taken me forty years to finally find my "look." I went through the wear-the-same-shapeless-clothes-for-years phase, the I-love-Lands-End phase, and the El-Cheapo-Chadwicks-Clearance phase. Then, finally, it dawned on me that, for my entire life, my clothing had never reflected who I really am. It was too conservative; too frumpy; too staid. Sometimes it was downright "what was she thinking?" Now, I feel like the wardrobe I'm slowly building "fits" me. I think the actual term is "funky chic," but that sounds a bit contrived. At any rate, I was beyond thrilled to have someone eyeball me and come to the conclusion that I must be a writer, simply because I looked like one. "So, I'll bet you write children's books or something," the checkout clerk went on. "Young adult fantasy," I said, "and also humor." Naturally I had to tell him that I'm also a pianist. You know -- the whole "artsy" thing. As it turned out, my new friend was an aspiring writer and actor. He had big dreams -- he had enthusiam. It was tangible; I could feel it in the air as he spoke. "It's a long, hard road," I told him in my wisest tone of voice. "Don't ever give up." "And don't you give up either," he said. Imagine that. Half my age and he's offering me the same level of encouragement that I've just doled out to him. I walked through the rest of the store and into the mall with a new confidence. Wow, I thought. I am a writer. I am a writer! Maybe I'd gotten a little bit lost in the kitchen floor mopping and the clothes ironing and the meal cooking and the Algebra test grading and the gloom, gloom, gloom of winter. But despite it all, somebody -- a complete stranger -- took one look at me and saw me for what I truly am. It was a gift from God; a glimpse of my "reason for being." I would give my life for any of my children in a heartbeat; they are my highest calling, my dearest treasures. But I'm not "just a mom." Nobody said, "You must be a mom," to me today. No, indeed! Somebody said, "You must be a writer." Hmm. What shall I wear tomorrow? Friday, February 10, 2006Cookies and Goldfish and Bread and BeerThat's what Eric brought home from the grocery store last night in order to "stock up" for the snowstorm that's headed our way. My hero. To be fair, I need to explain that Eric had a "Eureka-I'd-better-head-to-Publix" moment at precisely 9:54 last night. That's six minutes before the store closes. It takes two minutes to drive there, which gave him four minutes to pick up some "stock the pantry" items. So he grabbed some cookies, goldfish, bread, and beer. Starch and alcohol -- just what a family of six needs to survive a Tennessee stowstorm. Fortunately, I was able to do my regular grocery shopping this morning, so I added a few slightly more nutritious things to our kitchen shelves. There was no way I was going to wait until Saturday morning to do my shopping -- the shelves would have been bare. Southerners are terrified of snow, you see. It doesn't come around often enough for them to get used to it. So when they see a couple of snowflakes or hear tell of an impending "storm," they high-tail it to the nearest grocery store and wipe out all the bread and milk. And, in some cases, all the beer. All the elderly folks were out in force this morning. They, southerners of a more prudent generation, knew they'd better get there early and stock their pantries for the weekend. Their faces were calm; they moved slowly down the aisles of Publix. (Well, okay, they're old. I guess they always move that way.) I wouldn't want to be in the store around 6:00 this evening. It will be every man for himself -- a frenzied, panicked free-for-all. "Get outta my way! I need some goldfish and beer before they run out!" Anyway, we're all ready for our "severe snowfall" (two to four terribly frightening inches). Eric's going to bring home some firewood and a couple bottles of wine. If anything, the pre-snow excitement has made my Friday far less ordinary. And my children are -- well, they're southern. They know how to make a snowman out of three cubic centimeters of snow. Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow! Tuesday, February 07, 2006Two Good Things! Count 'Em! Two!
 Good Thing Number One I almost never win anything. Seriously. The nifty wallet I won over at Housewife Cafe was definitely a fluke. Imagine my surprise upon receiving yet another "You Won!" email the other day. This time, it's a signed-by-the-author book from Anita Higman, award-winning author and speaker. The book, Fresh Brewed Love, is a collection of four novellas about love and coffee. Love and coffee! Can there possibly be a better combination than that? Love and chocolate, maybe. Love and chocolate and coffee, maybe. Love and chocolate and coffee and a $1000 shopping spree at my favorite boutique -- definitely! At any rate, I'm delighted to have this sweet book to curl up with. Good Thing Number Two If anything is rarer in my life than winning prizes, it's dealing with decent customer service. I could tell 50,000-word tales of incompetence and rudeness and stupidity -- and I'm sure you could tell some, too. But I've got something better to talk about this time. I've just had an awesome experience. My food chopper broke. (That's not the awesome experience.) Thing is, I had just purchased the thing via Amazon.com, and it was only the fourth time I'd used it. Hear me: I don't "do" onions. Paring knives and I don't get along. Life in my kitchen without a food chopper is bleak, indeed. So I sent off a wee email to the folks at Miufrance.com, letting them know that my food chopper had ceased to do its cute little quarter-turn whilst chopping. After asking me if I'd checked for stuck food bits (I had), a very nice guy named Dave informed me that he would send me -- are you ready? -- not just a replacement chopper, but an upgrade. Yes! He is sending me a stainless steel food chopper free of charge. Christmas in February! Maybe it's the name. I seem to know a lot of nice guys named Dave. So, at least for the moment, my faith in retail-kind has been restored. I am beyond excited about my new chopper, which was shipped this morning. (I know, I know. I need to get a life.) Thank you, Anita and Dave. You have no idea how much I've needed these pick-me-ups! Saturday, February 04, 2006At last! SIX STEPS TO SANITY is up and running!
 Tada!! I'm pleased to announce the arrival -- finally! -- of my online course, Six Steps to Sanity. If you're a stay-at-home mom or a work-at-home-mom or a mom-with-only-two-percent-of-her-brain-left-because-she's-attended-too-many-soccer-games, this is the course for you. Last spring, I taught Six Steps to Sanity as a six-week telecourse (classes held over the telephone). It was a grand success; I received excellent feedback from many of my students. Telecourses aren't for everyone, though, and I'm delighted to be able to offer Six Steps to Sanity as a downloadable course. Click on over, read about it, get excited, email me with your questions. Oh, and for all my "guy readers:" Your wife will be endlessly thankful if you buy her this course for Valentine's Day! (wink wink) I'm passionate about seeing women-at-home reach their potential -- not only as mothers, but as WHOLE, FULFILLED, JOYFUL women. It's easy to lose ourselves in the daily grind. It's easy to live a life of "endlessly pleasing others" at the terrible cost of self-fulfillment and truly happy families. It's easy to let our marriages wither away to nothing as we get caught up in too-busy, too-hectic, too-full-of-stuff lives. Has it been five weeks since you've all sat down together and eaten dinner as a family? Two months since you've had sex with your spouse? A year since you've done anything just for you? Six Steps to Sanity is waiting for you! (End of shameless plug. Do email me at jill@beatyourowndrum.com with any questions. Can you tell I'm a little excited about this online course? Is it showing? Have you signed up yet?) Wednesday, February 01, 2006"Did You Write Today?"Ugh. I know he means well, but whenever Eric asks me that question on a day that wasn't productive on the writing end, I want to slap him. I had a very productive weekend -- completed one chapter and wrote the entire next one. Believe me, that's almost unheard of. Usually, four pages in one day is considered fabulous. So the weekend was stellar. Unsurpassed. Deeply gratifying. Then Monday hit. Eric should know better than to say, "Did you write today?" on a Monday. No, I didn't write. But I did dust, vacuum, clean the hearth, water the plants, flip the sofa cushions, fix a loose doorknob, do three loads of laundry, and -- oh, yes -- homeschool my children. Did I think Tuesday would be better? Silly me. On Tuesday I cleaned the children's bathroom floor, did three more loads of laundry, ironed, vacuumed, made a tuna casserole, removed two bags of garbage from Spencer's room, dealt with some administration for my online mom group, and -- oh, yes -- homeschooled my children. See the pattern here? I'm not complaining (much). I love my life. I love homeschooling my chickens. But aside from having the time to write, one also needs to have the energy. You writers know what I mean. It's not a physical energy; it's a mental one. And yes, emotional. Since physical activity will often drain us mentally, and since emotional energy, when expended, will often zap us both physically and mentally -- well, you can see where this is going. A plus B equals One Zapped Woman. Zapped women don't write good stories. Oooo, am I ever excited about my latest YA novel, though! I wish I could go off by myself for an entire week and do nothing but write and eat gourmet food. Of course, I would miss Eric. Dreadfully. But at least whenever he called and asked, "So, did you write today?" I would be able to answer with a resounding YES!! Then I could ask him, "So, did you dust, vacuum, iron, cook, and homeschool the kids today?" Ah, well. A gal can dream. Labels: writing |
About Me
I am: Mother to five stunningly individualistic children... Writer of young adult fantasy... Passionate advocate for Women At Home... Madly in love with my husband... In need of Organic Gourmet Chocolate on a regular basis. I've got a Paypal account if you'd like to contribute to the cause....
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