Super Mom. Super Wife. Super Tired.

I saw this bumper sticker online (you can purchase on cafe press.com)  and almost bought it. Oh, society’s expectations for us women to “be all we can be” and wear many hats! Many times, when we’re not giving our best, we’re still giving our very best. Make sense?

It is exhausting to (try to) juggle it all, though I wouldn’t have it any other way. Single moms and women in general, with their struggles and successes, have inspired me to write my upcoming release, a contemporary romance novella called A Night of Misbehaving.

Georgia Taylor is a successful, hardworking single mom who hasn’t had a night of fun in a long time. Always attuned to career goals and school activities, she decides to join a dating site to get back into the game.

Although it’s a quick, short read, I really hope readers will get a good sense of who she is, which will make her date with Brent Turner (the sexiest dad, but one with a hidden agenda!) even more intriguing.

So stay tuned. A Night of Misbehaving will be hitting the e-shelves April 14th! :) 

Take care,

Carmen :-) 

How to Deal with Your Child’s Imaginary Friend

No, really, what do you do?

Last year, when her baby brother was born, Scarlett befriended someone named Katie. All of a sudden, she started talking about this great, awesome little girl she knew. There was no one with that name at her school, swim class or gym. I went through friends’ kids’ names in my head, but no. Katie was straight-up fake.

            A couple of other moms I talked to assured me that was normal. Scarlett started to talk about Katie a lot, and pretended to call and text message her. (Apparently, Katie’s mom had really loose rules when it came to the amount of time her five-year-old spent on the phone.) Whenever I was changing a diaper or spending time with the baby, Scarlett brought up Katie. Katie could do triple somersaults in a fraction of a second. Katie had won special badges for helping the government with some child spy work. Katie’s laughter had been made into an official iPhone ring tone. Hell, I wanted to be Katie!

            Of course my mom was over once, and she, upon hearing all the shenanigans Katie was up to, suggested we splash some holy water all over the house. Yeah. She’d seen too many blockbusters where the imaginary friend was actually a ghost clinging to the world of the living. Listening to my mom go on and on about all the scary movies she’d seen made me realize that (1) that one with Robert De Niro was a flop. What were they thinking in casting Rebecca Romijn as his wife? (2) My mom is a rock star when it comes to remembering movies’ synopses, even if they are forty years old. Her age, though, she can’t ever recall.

            So. Katie claimed even a seat at the dinner table. According to Scarlett, not only was Katie cool, playful and outgoing…but her mom also let her do tons of stuff I didn’t let Scarlett do. Of course.

            A light bulb was finally lit. One day, as a jealous Scarlett was whining over all the attention her brother was getting (as if!), I said, “You know, Katie has a baby brother and she’s very sweet to him. I know that for a fact.”

            Scarlett folded her arms and said, “Katie doesn’t exist. I made her up.” And just like that, Katie was gone from our lives. Weird, isn’t it?

The Thing About Writing

 

 

                “It’s okay, Mama. I can do it by myself,” my daughter told me a couple of years ago, when I was getting ready to push her in the swing of the park we visited every week. As I nodded, a pang of pride and a growing fear rushed in my veins. That simple exchange articulated how time was flying right in front of my eyes, faster than any swing.

                Many times, these small milestones are life’s subtle way of telling us we are no longer needed. I remember that when I wrote my first book, I clung to it for a looong time. Okay, so I sucked at writing back then and it took me longer, but part of me likes to think I didn’t want it to end because I didn’t know what would come after. What if I finished it and the inspiration to write another one flew away? What if I showed it to someone I trusted and that person showered me with patronizing motivational quotes? I have no idea what would have happened if I’d showed that particular one to anyone, since I finished and it’s safely stashed away till I’m brave enough to read it again and start a major editing overhaul. I’d have to ask that skinny guy from Extreme Makeover: Home Edition for help. Get the picture?  

                After months filled with personal chaos and fascinating milestones, I’m finally getting around to putting some ideas on paper and polishing proposals that should have been sent too long ago. It’s never good to have this ginormous gap between writing, editing, sending proposals, the whole shebang.

                Sometimes though, things spin out of control and we feel powerless. There’s no time, no way, no how. Madness. Phew.  

                But that’s okay. That’s life, isn’t it, folks? Sometimes, you just have to swing it.

Pink Unicorns and Blueberry Snow Cones…and a Big Announcement (Really!)

 

Morning, folks! If you are one of the eight followers reading my blog when you're taking your iPad to the bathroom, you must be wondering, “Where has she been?”

I’m sorry for being away for so long and not dropping you a line – just like Roy, that guy you dated back in high school. After a date you thought went well, he never called you. Oh, wait. In the nineties, wasn’t it all about pagers? He never paged you – or me. J Ok, done with high school reminiscing.

I guarantee you I’m no Roy. At least I have a good reason for not being in touch.

Five weeks ago, I was diagnosed with preeclampsia and had to be hospitalized and put on bed rest until my baby was born. Preeclampsia happens when you have high blood pressure and too much protein in your urine. There are other symptoms as well, but those are some of the big ones.

Comedian Jim Gaffigan once said that he wished hospitals didn’t have that health requirement to check in, otherwise he’d do it because it combines eating in bed and sleeping – his favorite activities. Well, I should tweet him to set the record straight.

There’s no sleeping; the term “bed rest” is used loosely. Every half hour, someone walks in to check on you, and while on a daily basis I love getting attention, after a while it gets old. And the food! Think airline food, but they let it cool down for about four hours before serving it to you. Soggy steamed broccoli. Yum!

My baby must have been tired of that food too, because at 31 weeks and four days, he decided he’d had enough and it was time to come out. So, for the past four weeks, Oliver has been in the NICU, growing and recovering from a surgery he needed due to a leak in his stomach. My blood pressure spiked after his birth because I was so stressed out. Every time the nurse came to take a reading, I’d try to visualize pink unicorns and blueberry snow cones to get relaxed so I could get a better reading. A friend of mine suggested I think of Ryan Gosling to calm down, but I tried it once and it didn’t work. Wonder why.

Anyway, now I have good news: My BP is stable and Oliver is doing well. He’s been a fighter – he’s supposed to come home in a month or so. He’s very cute and full of personality, and the nurses always comment on his facial expressions. What can I say? Kiddo has a flair for the dramatic. J

Anyway. So there you have it. Stay tuned for writing-related news soon!

Three Things I’ll Miss when I’m no Longer Pregnant

 

Pregnancy has its perks. In many ways, it’s kind of like becoming a temporary senior citizen, except you don’t get a discount at Luby’s.

During my first pregnancy, things didn’t go as expected. At 31 weeks, I delivered my baby girl, who thankfully turned out to be a healthy and beautiful little person. There’s a chance I might deliver early again. So, this time I’m making sure I enjoy every minute. Still, since we don’t know what tomorrow will bring, I’m sharing today, at 30 weeks pregnant, some of the things that I’ll miss the most when I’m no longer pregnant.

1.     The perfect excuse for pretty much anything. Pregnancy is the magic answer to leaving that work party early, skipping the annoying homeowner’s association meeting, and asking for a rush order at the CVS pharmacy. Gained twenty pounds overnight? No worries. You’re pregnant!

2.     The public coddling – Everyone cares. Everyone loves a pregnant woman, and if they don’t, they gather all their acting skills to disguise it. Yes, people ask you things. “How are you feeling?”, “Can I touch your belly?”, or “Do you need anything?” Overnight, you’re a small town celebrity and for no big reason. Wouldn’t it be nice to keep some of it for later?

3.       The free pass to experiment with a wide range of emotions – granted, some of them should remain tucked under whatever layer of commonsense you still have. Think about PMS on acid. Live-in boyfriends and husbands particularly love this symptom of pregnancy because they get to experience in 3-D lifelike quality. In the morning, a serene, blissful sensation engulfs you, and you just want to scream at the world how happy you are that you felt the baby kicking. In the afternoon, charged by a blend of hormones handpicked by the devil himself, there’s rage, frustration, and self-defensiveness. And, of course, there’s attack and tons of it. Family members, friends, colleagues, the abrasive lady at the parking lot – they’re all fair game. At night, exhaustion wins, and with a yawn, you decide you’ll just have to call a couple of people to apologize the next morning. Oh, wait. You don’t have to, at least for a couple more months. J

House Hunting is not For Weenies

 

I have completely neglected my blog for longer than virtually acceptable. All the issues keeping me from posting, though, will come in handy as good material for a few posts. Today I’m dissecting one of them – the wonders of house buying when you’re nearly seven months pregnant.

We wanted to be shrewd and take advantage of the cutthroat Austin real estate market and sell our house before the baby comes. In our idealized, fairytale dream where unicorns greeted us every morning and a fluorescent rainbow shone in the background of our new house, everything would be perfect.

Well, sell our house we did. And fast. We got great buyers who gave us all we asked for and more, including the opportunity to lease back for a few months while we sought said dream house. Sounds great, doesn’t it?

In the meantime, Hubby was transferred from his job, which means he’ll have to work in a different city – and which also means the houses we were looking at are all too far from his new location. Which also means goodbye sassy unicorns and rainbows, and hello snorting donkeys and dark clouds!

We have been visiting several houses in a different city, and of course we can barely agree on what we want. We’ve had plenty of awkward moments in front of our tireless Realtor, who hasn’t shied away from his mission of finding us a house…even though he’s had to witness some life-altering arguments about priorities.

I never knew house shopping could put such a strain on a marriage. I want a playroom; Hubby wants a media room. I want a bigger office; Hubby wants a three-car garage. Funny thing was, I never knew any of those things were a priority for him – that is, until we toured houses with said features. Phew.

My favorite part of the week was the look on the Realtor’s face the last time he picked us up. I had on my wristband (my wrist has been bothering me from writing), and Hubby, reeling from a very recent shave, pressed a Kleenex to his mouth. The Realtor looked at my wristband, then darted his gaze carefully at my husband, who still had blood spilling from his upper lip, and asked, “Everything okay?” J

Confessions from the Past from Your Mom in the Future

 

Dear Falcone Baby,

 

I realize there are women out there making me feel awful as they’re writing pregnancy journals and registering everything that happens. So. Since only nerdy brain surgeons and archeologists

specializing in Egyptian hieroglyphics can understand my handwriting, I decided it’d be way easier to post this blog.

Seventeen years from now, I’ll say, “Hey kid, want to know what it was like to be in your mother’s tummy?” and you’ll say, “Eww. No.” I’ll say, “Go to blogger.com.” You’ll say,“What’s blogger.com? Dad, Mom has been drinking again.” There.

Still. Just so I won’t forget.

I’m 23 weeks pregnant and just yesterday, someone said, “Oh, but you don’t look pregnant.” I don’t know if I should be flattered or insulted. Does that mean that person just normally thought the bump I’ve been carrying has always been there? Or worse, has it really been there and I just lived in denial, buying tops from Lane Bryant and avoiding mirrors? If this seems silly to you, well, I gave this conundrum a good 17 minutes of reflection. Then, a pretzel stand at the mall got my attention and I figured I had other things to worry about.

I’ve also been having very realistic dreams – sometimes three different ones each night. Last one I remember, I was being interviewed by three different people for a job as a GM in this paradisiac resort in Aruba. Then your sister poked me because she’d had a bad dream of her own…and I still have no idea if I got the job or not. I suppose it was better this way; I don’t really want to get caught up in the corporate culture again, right?

And now, well, you do your thing, which at 15 must include several suspicious minutes alone in the bathroom and going out with your friends from school – none of whom I will approve.

Okay. Let’s go back to when you were a cute baby inside my womb. I’m sure I’ll resort to that image several times in the future – especially when we don’t see eye to eye and your teen years bring me to my knees.

Gosh. Now I know why I kept away from very personal blogs when I was pregnant. I get too emotional and carried away – of course, this never really happens, as I’m sure your dad can attest. Anyway… Before you go to college, why don’t we all go on a family trip together? How about Aruba?