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.

Wish List for Santa Part 1: A Dream Babysitter

Dear Santa,

It’s that time of year again! I’m sure you get tons of letters asking for bikes, Barbie houses, and Transformers. You must be tired of good old capitalism. Well, cheer up, old man— my wishes are not things you can buy in a store.

They fall into the whimsical, miracle area. I totally think we need to bring that back. Before you send me to a different department and tell me to ask God, I’ll stop you right there— I’ve already asked God and every deceased family member. I’ve got my street team working for me up above, I hope.

I know that you physically exist; I’ve seen you at the mall, at church, and even waiting for a bus when your sleigh broke down. I’m sorry I didn’t stop to offer you a ride, but it was really cold out there and I was in a hurry.  

Since my requests are a tad specific, I’ll ask you for them in separate letters. I figure if you lose one of the letters, at least I’ll still have a shot at getting something else. Here’s my first wish:



A Dream Babysitter

I realize this might be a repeat request.

Dream Babysitter is super-professional, but not snooty. She’s available every time I call her, yet she doesn’t expect me to hire her full time. She’s OCD and loves to clean and keep things tidy, and goes way beyond her assigned duties. She’s into educational stuff, but when she sees my daughter watching SpongeBob, she won’t judge me. Ever. She’s kind, warm, and has a natural maternal instinct — but she has no kids of her own and doesn’t want them anytime soon. In fact, she doesn’t even have nieces or nephews, which is why she loves to work with children.

She’ll always say great things about me if I ever recommend her to my friends. However, she’ll trust me, and if a neighbor in the Stepford Wives club (I was never allowed in, but I stole a copy of the manual once and read the rules) does something unacceptable, such as feeding the baby formula instead of breast feeding, about which she constantly raves, Dream Babysitter will tell me about it in confidence.

She not only loves dogs, but also has a degree in animal psychology, so she will be able to handle my three crazy pugs. Unlike the other weenies, she won’t let Bella’s energetic personality or Gypsy’s cancer medication schedule scare her away. No. Dream Babysitter is strong.

Dream Babysitter also has a boyfriend who works out of town and whom she doesn’t see often. He’s a little bit better than an internet boyfriend who lives across the country really, but she doesn’t mind. Neither do I.

Dream Babysitter is pretty, but not pretty enough to make me jealous. You could send me a thin one, if all the other ones are taken—but she must be into baking homemade cookies with my daughter. Oh yes. She loves to make mac and cheese from scratch, and although she disapproves of the chips I have in my pantry, she’d never voice it to anyone. Not even to the Stepford Wives down the street, who might pay her a tiny bit more than I do.

Dream Babysitter loves my child, although not in a weird way. She’ll tell me that my daughter is the smartest kid she’s ever babysat. Dream Babysitter will never lie to me; she can lie about me, but only if it makes me look good. She admires me—she thinks I’m funny and likeable, and she molds herself after me. In fact, she often asks for advice on her life—which I can relive vicariously.

We’re friends, but without any female competition or cattiness. I’m proud to give her solid advice on her decision not to have kids, encourage her to keep her long distance boyfriend instead of giving her neighborhood crush a try, and fully agree with her mom, who doesn’t want her to move to a city with better opportunities in her field. I do all of this selflessly, out of the kindness of my heart.

So there it is, Santa. Wish number 1 out of the way! Please make this happen. Pretty please.

Now, tell me that this doesn’t sound better than a trampoline or a Wii.

How Motherhood Has Improved my Writing Journey

     I have been a mother for three and a half years, and I have been a closet writer for much longer than that. However, it was only after Scarlett had been born that I felt the urge to send my material to publishing houses, to write actively, and most of all, to ask for help. Coincidence? I honestly don’t know.

    I can’t help but think motherhood has empowered me to go after my dream. Perhaps because life became so chaotic that I needed an outlet more than ever. Perhaps it was due to happen anyway. Either way, motherhood has taught me these things about writing:

·         Asking for help – I have always tried to fix what was wrong myself—or maybe fix what I had broken before anyone noticed. Whatever. Having a preemie baby (my daughter was born at 31 weeks and stayed at the NICU for 41 days—yep, I use that card whenever I can) really opened my eyes to my limitations. I could only do so much on my own. I had to start listening to doctors, nurses, friends, and even my mom—which I tried to avoid, having been a lifelong victim of Catholic Guilt and all. But moving on … whether I agreed with them or not, I had to stop and listen, ponder, and decide, which is not much different from writing. If we write for ourselves and never plan to share with the world, we can be the dictators of our keyboard. But if we want to have a chance at getting published, we need to get out of our comfort zone and reach out to critique partners, writing companions, editors, writers groups, on-line classes, workshops, and conferences. We need to show our work, regardless of the outcome.  

·         Sometimes, it is what it is – You can only do so much. A part of me always tries harder, and that’s a part I want to encourage (sadly, that doesn’t include dieting harder. Or dieting at all. Boo.). But when it comes to writing, to get that “thanks, but no thanks” letter or email just really sucks. While it may be a good eye opener to question your proposal or ideas, at the same time, it may also be that you didn’t have the right project for the right publisher at the right time.

·         Prioritizing skills – Any mother knows this. Should I take a shower or enjoy fifteen extra minutes in bed? Should I go to sleep early or have sex? On which project should I focus? What should I do today—edit, write, read, critique, pull my hair out, or all of the above? I struggle with prioritizing a lot, especially when I have more than one project at hand.

·         Time is not just money, but words … and naps – I believe that the #1 advice I got throughout my pregnancy was sleep when she is sleeping. Yeah, right. Most of the time, I was doing laundry, making food, checking emails, making sure my three dogs were fed and going outside (and remembering to bring them inside), breast pumping, and trying to make long calls to the insurance people (who from time to time send us a Mickey Mouse bill for 60,000 dollars) when she was sleeping, especially during the day. I gotta say, though, I got a lot done in those two or three hours. Most of it was boring and chore-like but, hey, it had to be done. It taught me to make the most of my time. Nowadays, I don’t wait for that perfect time to write. I take notepads everywhere, in case ideas strike when I’m least prepared. I squeeze in 200 words while cooking spaghetti, which explains a lot about my cooking skills. I even feel a degree of relief when my doctor says she’s running late and I have twenty extra minutes with my IPad in the exam room.

     Learning never stops, be it about motherhood or writing. I feel like I’ve learned a lot, yet at the same time, I’m at the very beginning and there are so many delightful and exhilarating emotions that I still haven’t savored. They say that every phase is different and that it gets easier with time. Well, let’s see about that. J