Writer’s Block and Silly Kid Pics

I’ve taught writing for a while now, and there’s one question that consistently crops up from my students: what do you do if you’re not feeling particularly inspired? What if you can’t figure out what to write about? What if you are faced with that dreaded scourge that’s crippled many a wordsmith -- writer’s block?

Answer: you sit down and start writing. Or, to put it another way, you just show up. As Woody Allen once said, “80% of success in life is just showing up.” (Note: I had to Google this to find out who said it. And there’s disagreement over whether it’s 80% or 90%. So I spent another 10 min. or so Googling some more. Then I popped onto Twitter for a bit. This is what happens when *I* have writer’s block.)

I used to not believe in writer’s block, BTW. I thought it was an excuse lazy writers cooked up to explain why they hadn’t finished their Great American Novel yet. But you have only to read a few dozen “Sorry I haven’t posted lately...” blogs to realize writer’s block can strike anyone. Even me.

When it happens, I just sit down and start typing. (After I’ve exhausted all my procrastination techniques, that is. E-mail, Twitter, cleaning, another cup or 3 of coffee.) Sometimes what comes out is boring, repetitive drivel, but usually something halfway decent emerges eventually.

And remember: we’re our own worst critics. I will never forget the time I forced myself to finish a paper in grad school even though I had just broken up with my boyfriend who I totally thought was The One and I could barely see straight, my eyes were so blurred by the bitter tears of disillusionment and shattered dreams. (How’s THAT for drivel?) Because even in the midst of soul-crushing heartbreak I was a perfectionistic teacher’s pet who could never miss a deadline.

Well, guess what? I got an A on that paper! It certainly wasn’t the best thing I’d ever written, but so what? Sometimes it’s enough to just show up.

It’s the same with parenting, I’ve realized. I’m not going to be the most happy, energetic, creative, super-present mother every day. (Or even MOST days, if I’m being honest.) But sometimes the kids and I end up having a pretty darn good day even when I’m not bringing my A-game. Or even my B+ game.

My final advice on writer’s block? Bloggers are lucky. Because if we ever get really stumped in the writing department, we can just post pics like this:

What? Doesn't EVERYONE eat pizza shirtless with goggles on?

My mommy makes me wear a helmet at all times and they STILL know me by name at the ER!

Even Charlie Sheen Knows Gross Does Not Equal Funny

So as I was watching Piers Morgan interview Charlie Sheen on CNN the other night with a mixture of horror and awe, I thought the beleaguered actor made a good point. Wait!! Bear with me, OK?

Morgan kept trying to insist that “Two and a Half Men” was a family show, and that Sheen was some kind of role model. Sheen replied (paraphrasing here) that the show’s writing was juvenile and crass (I believe he used the word “gross”), and besides, it’s about a womanizing boozer, so how is that a family show? Out of the mouths of Sheens… Since when is a sitcom that relies on hooker jokes and bathroom humor in the same category as “The Middle”?

But this is not a beef about the values being promoted on primetime television. (Though as the mother of 2 little boys, that is a concern.) MY problem is with what’s being fed to us as funny these days.

It’s no secret that I like to laugh, and that I enjoy watching, reading, and writing humor. Certainly, humor is subjective. I’d say I’m more aware of that than most. I can tell you from teaching many sessions of my essay-writing classes that there are tons of David Sedaris and Tina Fey fans out there, and that most of my students aspire to be funnier writers. (While there’s no formula, I have offered some advice about how to write humor in the past.)

It’s discouraging to me that so much of what claims to be humor nowadays just isn’t funny. I can vaguely remember when, in its early days, “Two and a Half Men” was actually clever and well-written, not formulaic and cringe-worthy. But I guess Hollywood sticks with what works. At the gym this morning, I read a funny article in the Feb. 25 issue of Entertainment Weekly about the formula for Adam Sandler movies. It went something like: equal parts middle-school humor, boobs, and immature man-boys who dress like college kids.

Look, I get it. I’m not the target audience for “Two and a Half Men” or Adam Sandler movies. But can we all agree it takes a little more brains and creativity to be truly funny? On TV, I’m currently enjoying the upbeat Amy Poehler and her quirky cast on “Parks and Recreation” and the way “Modern Family” captures the frustrations, sweetness, and yes, humor of family life. (See: the episode where Cameron cries, “It’s like Twilight around here!” when toddler Lily goes through a biting phase.)

In print, I laughed out loud at Colson Whitehead’s “I Scream,” an essay about one man’s hatred of ice cream that I recently read in the anthology Eat, Memory. And on a less cerebral level, I enjoyed Sophie Kinsella’s Mini Shopaholic. (Again: funny stuff about wild toddlers.)

So tell me, what do YOU find funny? And what are your thoughts on Charlie Sheen? (Kidding… although this post on the subject by a dad and ex-addict is worth a read.)

LAUGHS O’ THE WEEK: The other day my 4yo dropped something and shouted, “Oh, pickle juice!” Ha!

While watching the Academy Awards last Sunday, C. made a Freudian slip when he referred to the Oscars as “The Awkwards.”

NEWS O' THE WEEK: Next session of "Personal Essays that Get Published" starts next week! Prices go up next time, so don't miss out. Students from every single class are getting published and paid for their writing,even if they never have before. I'm so proud!

On Solo Socks & Enjoying Every Moment

See this? This is my collection of 37+ single kids’ socks. With each load of laundry, the number of mate-less socks grows. I ask you: how is that even POSSIBLE?!

I once read somewhere that you should keep solo socks only until the next time you do laundry, then toss any remaining singles. But where’s the fun in that? From time to time I actually DO find the mate, and then it’s like Christmas. (I lead a sad, sad life, don’t I?)

I’ve also heard people say you should buy only one kind of sock – say, white tube socks. What are we, barbarians?! Dressing boys is dreary enough without limiting myself to plain white socks. Sometimes finding a cute pair with fire engines on them on sale at Gymboree is the most fun I have at the mall! (I know… sad, sad life.)

You know those people with grown kids who love to tell us moms of wee ones how it all goes so fast? And to enjoy every minute? And to blah, blah, blah until you want to stab them with a plastic Elmo fork? (If any of them are reading this, I meant “I appreciate your words of wisdom.” Now I have to go keep my toddler from stabbing someone with a fork.)

I’d like to turn the tables for a minute. I’d like to speak to all those single people and empty-nesters and even parents of children who are primarily responsible for their own clothing and bodily fluids. I’ll start with laundry.

Remember the days when you used to do maybe 2 loads a week of darks and whites? In my world, those days are OVER. In a typical week I might do a load each of bath towels, kids’ sheets, adults’ sheets, kids’ whites, kids’ darks, kids’ mediums, kids’ pajamas, my own whites and darks, and another load of kids’ bedding.

Because multiple changes of clothes are required daily, thanks to diaper blowouts and mud puddles, and those changes of clothes might occur anywhere, we have approximately 5 dirty clothes hampers throughout the house. And my washer and dryer are conveniently located in the most remote and child-unfriendly corner of the basement. Sitting in a Laundromat reading a book in my single days seems SO much more appealing now.

Next, enjoy the silence. I know everyone says they love the pitter-patter of little feet, and I’ll be the first to admit that a toddler talking to himself while he plays with his trucks is adorable. But do you really miss the escalating shrieks of “Mo’ milk!” and “I had it first!” Do you miss someone screeching “MAAAAMAAAA!!” at 4:30am? Do you miss small children with no concept of “indoor voice” bellowing at you for fruit snacks and Goldfish crackers? I didn’t think so.

Even though I’m dying to, I won’t say anything about getting to go to the bathroom by yourself or shower daily or eat sitting down because that’s such well-trodden territory. (Especially on this blog!) But I WILL say, be grateful for those small moments of alone time you never noticed or appreciated.

For instance, before I had small children I never recognized what a treat it was to be able to answer the phone – even FIND the phone – when it rang. Or to conduct a 4-minute conversation about my electric bill without anyone interrupting me to whine that his brother ran over his toe with a tricycle.

Sometimes I’ll be talking (I mean TRYING to talk) on the phone to my mom, who’s a retired empty-nester now, and she’ll have to go so she can dash off to her third yoga class of the week or her book club or a dinner party or out to a midweek movie with my dad. And I’ll think, “Wow! She doesn’t even have to pack a diaper bag or call a sitter or anything. She can just go! Can you IMAGINE?!” I bet she even ends up with the same number of socks when she does her 2 loads of laundry each week.

NEWS O’ THE WEEK: Register by March 1 for fun, practical, 6-week online nonfiction writing classes with me and/or Writer Mama Christina Katz! I haven’t taught one yet in which at least 1 person didn’t publish an essay they wrote in class. Find out more and sign up here. The price is going up next session so if you’re interested, don’t wait!

What Do Working Out & Writing Have in Common?

As I circled the parking lot at the gym yesterday and then waited in line for a treadmill, this piece I wrote for the Writer Mama e-zine a while back came to mind:

I have been a regular exerciser for years. Don’t hate me; it’s my parents’ fault. As a kid, I passed out water along race routes to my dad and his fellow runners, and did leg lifts alongside my mom and her leg warmer-clad compatriots in aerobics class. Exercise is just something I do, like brushing my teeth. OK, more like flossing—I don’t do it every day, but I aim for three or four times a week.

As a longtime gym member, I’ve started to recognize a pattern: each January, the place is packed. Parking spaces are scarce, and there are long waits for the treadmills. People in shiny, brand-new workout wear are everywhere. Then just as suddenly, around March, the gym empties out again and it’s just us regulars.

I’m not disparaging these would-be workout buffs for falling off the fitness wagon. I’m just noticing that if you approach exercise as “just something you do,” rather than an all-or-nothing oath, you’re more likely to find time for it regularly and stick with it.

Listen: there are plenty of days when it takes all the energy I can muster to drag myself to the gym. Especially if I’ve just spent 10 straight hours with a stubborn toddler who refused to nap so I could finish this column. Those days, I’ll set the recumbent bike to Level 2 and flip through People magazine as I pedal. A challenging workout? Hardly. But I give myself points for showing up. That’s what keeps me coming back to the gym in March, June, September, and even in January, when I can’t find a parking spot.

It’s the same with writing.

I’ve been a writer all my life, too. Writing is just something I do. I don’t broadcast it on bumper stickers or T-shirts. I don’t apologize for the time I spend writing. I don’t need to justify spending money on writing books or classes, or on a babysitter so I can write.

Now, I have been writing for publication for years. Sometimes I even get paid! I realize that if you’re just starting out and not earning much, if any, money for your work, it may be more difficult to convince yourself and others that writing is a worthwhile use of your time.

But it is. Like regular exercisers, writers who stick with it know that the rewards are great. Approach your writing as you would any other important undertaking in your life. Find time for it. Make time for it. Give yourself credit for showing up.

On the days when I write little more than a couple of e-mails and a blog entry, I don’t beat myself up. I’m still flexing my writing muscles, right? And I know that tomorrow I’ll sit down at my desk again and tackle that new assignment or tough revision. That’s because I’m a writer. And so are you. It’s just something we do.

LAST CALL O' THE WEEK: Still a few spots left in my 6-week online writing class, "Personal Essays that Get Published," which starts tomorrow. By the end of the class, you’ll have 2 ready-to-submit essays and a list of potential PAYING markets to send them to. Look at it this way: the class costs $250; I sold my last essay for $200 -- and that’s on the low end of the pay scale.

Former students have published their essays in the New York Times, Southern Living, Chicken Soup for the Soul, A Cup of Comfort, regional parenting mags, websites, and more. Registration closes tomorrow (1/12), so don’t wait!

New Year’s Resolutions for Other People

Happy New Year, people! I’m feeling pressure to write something thoughtful and profound. About the inner wisdom I’ve gained over the past year and my meaningful goals for 2011. But I’ve got nothing. Oh, sure, I’ve got the usual “worry less, read more, eat better” resolutions, but that’s about it. (Last year I was more creative.)

Maybe it’s because I spent the last 4 days at my in-laws’, otherwise known as The Land Where the Kitchen Never Closes and the TV’s Always On. All those home-cooked meals and football games don’t lend themselves to quiet introspection. Not to mention the fact that I spent the entire trip wrestling fragile Christmas decorations out of my toddler’s grip and trying to keep my 4-year-old from strewing his belongings from one end of the house to the other. (Even so, we lost 3 socks, 1 pair of gloves, a couple of action figures, and several pieces of a brand-new Uno game.)

The funny thing is, I can think of plenty of New Year’s resolutions for OTHER people. For instance, my husband might resolve to plan in advance for things. Say, choosing a recipe and making a grocery list before it’s his turn to cook dinner, instead of gazing into the pantry and searching FoodNetwork.com at 5:30pm and hoping the ingredients for a delicious meal magically materialize in the next 20 min.

And my 4 y.o. might resolve to approach the toilet as a specific target instead of a general guideline. My 22 m.o. could resolve to let, say, 4 seconds elapse after demanding his milk before having a tantrum because I didn’t respond fast enough. My whole family could resolve to put things back where they belong so that an hour of every day isn’t spent tearing the house apart to look for someone’s keys or red Crocs.

OK, fine. I guess I have room for improvement, too. I resolve to get less annoyed by the above behaviors, as well as others including asking for a certain type of food and then refusing that same food once it’s prepared. Or announcing on Thursday night that you had no idea the next day was the school picnic, even though it’s been on the calendar for months.

Oops, this is turning back to them, isn’t it? And I was supposed to be discussing how I could improve MYSELF. Hmmm… Well, let me think on that and get back to you. In the meantime, anyone else make any interesting resolutions this year?

LINK O’ THE WEEK: In case you missed it, registration is open NOW for fun, practical, 6-week online non-fiction writing classes with me and/or Writer Mama Christina Katz starting Jan. 12. Find out more and sign up here. Jan. classes usually fill up, so register ASAP so you don’t miss out!

My Favorite Holiday Photos

Did everybody have a good Christmas? I hope so. Ours was very nice, despite the baby coming down with a monster cold and both kids waking us up WAY too early on Christmas morning. (To my surprise, the toddler was the one chomping at the bit to get downstairs, not the 4 y.o.)

But there's no denying that kids make the holidays a lot more fun. We're heading to the in-laws' tomorrow for a few days -- where they're predicting 20 in. of snow tomorrow!! -- so I'll leave you with a few of my favorite shots from Christmas day:

Aw, they DO love each other.

Finally I can do something about that 5 o'clock shadow.

Thomas the Tank Engine was a big hit with Riley, while Miles treated us
to his musical stylings on his new keyboard.

I love how this picture captures my life perfectly: an adult beverage
sitting on a book about underpants.

NEWS O' THE WEEK: Want to get published and paid for writing about your life? Want a fun, practical class that you can take at home on your laptop? Register by Jan. 4 for the next session of my 6-week e-mail class, Personal Essays that Get Published.

Past students have sold their essays to all sorts of web sites, magazines, newspapers and books, including Chicken Soup for the Soul, A Cup of Comfort, and the New York Times. For more info, testimonials, and to sign up, go here. Class size is limited, so register ASAP before it fills up!

An Attitude of Gratitude

Gratitude is a big buzzword these days, isn’t it? Everyone from Oprah to the cashier at the grocery store constantly reminds us to count our blessings. (Usually when your child is having a full-on nuclear meltdown in the checkout line.)

Personally, I think telling people to be grateful works about as well as telling a kid to eat his vegetables.

The way I see it, gratitude is a process. The more you live and the more you experience, the more it dawns on you that you have it pretty good. Often, I realize how lucky I am only by comparing myself to other people. (GASP!! As big a no-no as being ungrateful, some would have you believe. But honestly, who DOESN’T compare themselves to others? How else would you know you look better in those jeans than your coworker?)

Let me give you some examples:

You might not feel lucky to gain 40 lbs., get stretch marks, and have nausea and heartburn for 9 mos. until you meet someone who can’t get pregnant.

You might not feel grateful for suffering through 2 days of labor, a botched epidural, and an episiotomy until you meet someone whose baby was stillborn.

You might not feel lucky to have a newborn who screams all day and all night until you know someone whose infant died of SIDS.

You might not feel grateful when your toddler starts climbing out of his crib and running into coffee tables until you meet someone whose child is developmentally delayed.

You might not feel grateful for your meddling parents and in-laws (not me!) until you meet someone who doesn’t have any parents.

You might not feel too grateful for your tiny, yard-less apartment until you meet someone who’s being eaten alive by their mortgage.

You might not feel grateful for your stressful, thankless job until you meet a mom who can’t afford to work. (That’s right, I said “can’t afford TO work” not “can’t afford NOT to work.” These people do exist, you know.)

Too often, I think gratitude goes hand-in-hand with guilt. We beat ourselves up because we should feel grateful for our healthy kids, our loving spouse, a roof over our heads, etc. And it becomes just another thing to feel bad about, another way we’re not measuring up.

But I find that if you let it, gratitude will sneak up on you when you least expect it. When your children are not fighting for once, say, and are sitting together watching TV. Or when your husband comes home early. Or when it’s a beautiful, sunny fall day and you’re sitting in the preschool pick-up line with the windows open and a good song comes on the radio.

Those are the moments when I think to myself, “This. For this, I am grateful.” No reminders from Oprah necessary.

LINK O’ THE WEEK: “The Prosperous Writer” Christina Katz recently invited writers to share their thoughts about gratitude. Read their responses here.

NEWS O’ THE WEEK: Speaking of Christina Katz, she and I are launching a new session of online writing classes starting Nov. 3! Six lessons in 6 weeks, all via e-mail so you can participate anywhere, anytime. The focus is on getting published, and boy, are our students getting published! In national and regional magazines, alumni publications, web sites, and more.

The deadline to register is Oct. 26, so act now if you want a spot. Class sizes are limited so students can get individual attention and critiques of their writing. Christina’s “Writing & Publishing the Short Stuff” is designed specifically for moms with busy lives.

My first-ever advanced class, “Personal Essays that Get Published: Level 2” is designed for my previous students who want to delve in deeper to this ever-popular genre. Join me! The class is a blast, trust me. :) Go here for more info and to register.

Back-to-School Blues? Not Me!

Am I the only mom alive who’s not sad about her child going off to school? All around me are people who are tearing up at the sight of school buses and lamenting, “They grow up so fast!” Not me. I can’t WAIT until Miles’ first day of school this week. And neither can he.

Maybe it’s because it’s just preschool. This year he’ll be going 5 days a week, but only mornings. How much can I miss him when he’s barely gone long enough for me to do the grocery shopping?

I rarely get wistful when looking at his baby pictures or packing away his outgrown clothes. Maybe it’s because I have another one who’s still in diapers. Or maybe it’s because I really don’t miss the projectile puking, mashed sweet potato phase.

I can honestly say that it doesn’t make me sad to see my sons grow up. I love watching them learn to color and put on their own shoes. I love seeing their personalities develop, and I am fascinated when they exhibit their own individual preferences.

Why did my firstborn adore avocados and my second child won’t touch them? Why is Miles inseparable from his stuffed dog and Riley could care less about blankies or lovies? Why is my oldest unconcerned with his anatomy while I fear my youngest is a budding Pee-Wee Herman?

Most of all, I enjoy my kids’ developing senses of humor and imaginations. Riley has barely been alive a year and a half and he’s already the life of the party, singing and dancing and making faces whenever the mood strikes. And Miles will say the craziest things out of the blue, like “I wish I could walk on the ceiling” or “I don’t want to get old and join the circus.”

One thing that does bother me about the boys going off to school is that I’ll miss so much stuff. Already, it’s like pulling teeth to get Miles to tell me about his day. (Though interestingly, he often opens up to his dad and other people with little prompting. Hmm…) I won’t get to see how excited they are when they know the words to a particular song or figure out how the elevator works on the toy parking garage.

I live for parent-teacher conferences when I get little glimpses into my son’s life beyond me. Otherwise, I may never know that he likes to push a certain little girl on the swings or that his favorite dress-up gear is the dog costume.

It’s just the beginning, I guess. Next year he’ll start kindergarten. Maybe then I’ll get misty at the sight of the backpack display at Gap Kids. But I doubt it. I enjoy watching him grow up too much.

VIDEO O' THE WEEK: They'll kill me for this one day, but I couldn't resist.


NEWS O’ THE WEEK: Speaking of back to school, the next session of my 6-week online writing class, “Personal Essays that Get Published” starts next week! The last class filled up, so sign up ASAP if you want a spot.

The class offers great camaraderie, accountability and best of all, how-to tips on getting published, even if you never have before. Also, it’s a prerequisite for my Level 2 class launching in Nov.

Past students have sold their essays to Chicago Parent, Portland Family, Southern Living, The New York Times, NPR and more. Get more info and sign up here.

Authors Agree: Marriage Is Hard

At various times, certain themes crop up in my life, when it seems like everything I read, hear, or see converges on a particular subject. The current theme is: marriage is hard.

Now, everyone calm down. I’m coming up on my 7th wedding anniversary and I have no plans to pull an “Eat Pray Love” maneuver and ditch my husband to flit around the world for a year. (Though I’d be lying if I said the thought hadn’t crossed my mind a time or 20.)

I mean, really, is it a newsflash to ANYONE that “happily ever after” is harder than it’s made out to be? Especially when you add 2 kids to the mix? Personally, I find it refreshing when people admit that. Which is probably why I enjoyed the following 2 books so much.

The novel Everyone Is Beautiful by Katherine Center follows a young mother of 3, Lanie, who reluctantly uproots her family and moves cross-country for her husband’s job. The descriptions of the pure chaos involved in raising small kids, the dicey playground politics, the challenges of being friends with other moms whose circumstances are vastly different from your own, and the constant grappling between spouses for free time rang SO true to life.

I can’t tell you how many times my husband and I have debated whether work happy hours “count” as leisure time. Just like I can’t tell you how many times people who say parenting may be challenging but not physically grueling change their tune after a couple hours with my kids. Anyway, you should read the book. And also, fellow blogger/writer Angie Mizzell's interview with the author.

On a very different but related note is Laura Munson’s memoir, This Is Not The Story You Think It Is: A Season of Unlikely Happiness. Before I read the book, I read about this author’s long road to publication and found it hugely inspiring. Then I sought out her NYT “Modern Love” essay that the book is based on. (Especially interesting to me, since one of my students recently had an essay she developed in my online writing class published in Modern Love.) Then I bought the book.

Here’s the gist: what happens when your beloved husband of 15 years comes home one day and says, “I don’t love you anymore. I’m not sure I ever did”? I’m willing to bet 99% of us wouldn’t respond the way Munson did: “I don’t buy it.”

Even while reeling from shock and pain, she was able to recognize that this was more about him having a job-related midlife crisis than it was about her. The book covers the following year of Munson’s life as she turns to therapy, writing, mothering, cooking, friends, and nature to help her through this difficult time.

Like Center’s novel, it shows that even “good” marriages don’t guarantee happiness and personal fulfillment. Both books also explore what happens when women pursue their own passions. Honest, eye-opening, gut-wrenching, and yet also beautiful and even funny at times, Munson’s book was hard to put down.

Yep, marriage is hard, all right. Good thing there are writers out there willing to address the subject in such honest and uplifting stories.

LAUGH O’ THE WEEK: Two things you don’t want to hear on a long family roadtrip: 1) "Do you smell throw-up?" 2) "Or is that poop?" Answer: Both.

I tackled one kid while my husband handled the other. If that’s not true love, I don’t know what is.

Confessions of a Belated Writing Instructor

I was raised by 2 teachers. As far back as I can remember, my parents spent their evenings grading papers and had summers off. Like many children, however, I had zero interest in following in my parents’ footsteps. I wanted a corporate job in a big city. Skyscrapers, suits, business trips -- bring it on! It sounded so glamorous and important. I set my sights on publishing or advertising.

My first hint that maybe corporate life wasn’t so glamorous was a stint at a glossy NYC magazine in college. Then, the only job I could get after graduation was an unpaid internship at a regional magazine, which I supplemented with a job answering phones. So much for summers off.

I eventually worked up to a series of paying jobs at various magazines, communications depts., and internet companies. At the “height” of my career (I use the term loosely) I was making more money than I ever had and writing next to nothing. I wanted to jump off a bridge.

I became a freelance writer instead. Fast forward to a couple months after I had my first baby, when I was desperate to regain some semblance of my former professional, adult self. I found an online writing class that sounded perfect: “Writing and Publishing the Short Stuff: Especially for Moms.”

I was wowed. First, by the caliber of the instructor, Christina Katz. (You may know her as author of "Writer Mama," @thewritermama, or The Prosperous Writer.) She wasn’t a top editor at a big-name magazine like some of the instructors I’d had. She wasn’t affiliated with an Ivy League university. But boy, did she know her stuff. Her approach was positive and practical, a far cry from the snarky, “good-luck-you’ll-need-it” tone of many resources geared toward aspiring writers.

Christina was better, in fact, than some of my professors in a graduate program in publishing I’d completed years earlier. I’ll never forget what my thesis advisor said to me when, despite my top grades, I was having trouble finding a job: “Sorry, but I can’t really help you with that. I’ve never worked in publishing.”

Anyway, Christina and I hit it off and she asked me to be her teaching assistant for the next class. Eventually, she offered me my own class. Me? TEACH?! Remember my childhood vow to not follow my parents’ path? Except...

The idea was kind of appealing. I DID enjoy helping people improve their writing, and I HAD spent years and years studying and working in the publishing business. Since the classes were taught via e-mail, I could even fit them into my busy life as a mom. I decided to give teaching a shot.

Two years and 7 classes later, I can’t believe I didn’t start sooner. I have met some fascinating people and helped dozens of writers polish their work, gain confidence, and send their words out into the world.

And guess what? They’re getting published left and right! In regional parenting magazines, on web sites, in prestigious places like the Erma Bombeck Humor Writing Contest, Southern Living, the New York Times, and NPR!

So it turns out maybe teaching IS in my blood. I’ve accepted it. I embrace it. And I don’t even mind grading papers.

NEWS O’ THE WEEK: Due to popular demand, I am developing a Level 2 essay class that will launch in Nov. I am devoting nights, weekends, and naptimes to designing a course that delves deeper into how to write great personal essays and get them published.

In the meantime, registration is open for my intro class, “Personal Essays that Get Published,” which starts Sept. 8. (BTW, it’s a prerequisite for the Level 2 class.) For more info, student testimonials, and to sign up, go here.

'Bitch Face' and the Road to Happiness

I occasionally suffer from a condition commonly known as “bitch face.” It’s involuntary, and I’m usually not even aware of it. It’s plagued me throughout my life, however.

People have often told me that before they knew me they thought I was stuck up, unfriendly, and/or unhappy. When I was single, a favorite pick-up line of guys in bars was, “Smile!” or “Cheer up!” (Shockingly, this line was ineffective and only made me want to punch the guy out.)

In fact, my self-consciousness and shyness were a big part of the problem. Most of the people I know who go around smiling all the time are pretty confident, outgoing types. Me? I’m a writer and blogger who doesn’t even use her real name or photo here. Draw your own conclusions.

I’ve learned a lot in my almost 36 years of life, though. Most lessons I have to learn over and over before they “stick,” BTW. But one of those is, if you smile people are nicer to you. And if people are nicer to you, you feel better about yourself. And if you feel better about yourself, you’re a happier person. Is that profound or what?

Fortunately, I smile a lot more these days. Mostly because I have 2 adorable kids I love more than anything. I dare you not to smile when you see tiny jean-clad butt or a miniature pair of rain boots. Or a round little Buddha belly or a peanut-butter-smeared, dimpled face. Go on, I DARE YOU.

Another lesson I’ve learned about happiness? It’s a choice. When I was younger, I used to think that circumstances determined a person’s happiness. If only I had a job I liked, I’d be happy. If only I had a boyfriend, I’d be happy. If I only I had a better body, nicer apartment, more friends, a bigger paycheck … you get the picture. Is it any wonder I was often miserable?

Becoming a freelance writer actually made things worse for a while. I gave up a high-paying job to sit in solitude in front of my computer all day, sending out queries and getting back rejections -- or worse, nothing but silence. I joined a writers’ group and soaked up the anxiety and negativity of the most vocal members. Every acceptance made my heart soar, every rejection stung like a slap in the face.

To be honest, it was a relief when I got married and then pregnant with my first child. I could focus on something else for a while. I eventually went back to writing, but things were different. First of all, I welcomed what little solitude I could find. Second, I connected with other writers online and started writing again for pleasure by starting a blog.

I did less pitching and got more work through networking and referrals, including some of my biggest career successes to date. And the highs and lows evened out because I no longer had my ego and self-worth all tied up with my profession. I had one, and now 2 little boys to remind me of what’s really important.

It kind of sneaked up on me, but I have realized I am finally happy. Sure, I still have struggles and disappointments, but deep down I am content and at peace with my life. And that’s enough to make anyone smile.

SHOUT OUT: To my fellow writer Christina Katz, the original Writer Mama, The Prosperous Writer, and the inspiration for this post. I'm fairly certain she never has bitch face. When I took her class 2 mos. after becoming a new mom, I never dreamed it would set me on the path I’m on today. Thanks, dear!

You, too, can take her class, Writing & Publishing the Short Stuff, or my class, Personal Essays that Get Published, both starting May 12. You'll be glad you did!

Personal Space

Stop the presses: C. and I went out to a movie the other night. I KNOW!! In the theatre and everything! We go to the movies so rarely that we barely recognized a single Oscar nominee. This is because a) movies either start too early or too late for us (gotta get the kids fed but can’t stay awake past 11 pm) or b) we can’t agree on one.

But we both wanted to see “Date Night” with Tina Fey and Steve Carell, and we arranged for a kind and generous neighbor to come over after the baby was in bed. I highly suggest trading childcare with a friend if you can swing it. Because there’s nothing I hate more than paying a sitter to sit and watch TV after all the hard work is done!

I really enjoyed the movie. It was exactly what I look for in date-night entertainment. I hate how the trailers give away most of the movie these days, but there were still some surprises. One of the funniest parts to me was when T.Fey’s character, a harried working mom, reveals her “fantasy” -- eating lunch by herself in a quiet room. Every mother I know can relate to that!

That’s one of the biggest adjustments to becoming a mom, I think. All of a sudden you are never, ever alone anymore. Not even in the bathroom. If you work, commute, or have a sitter, you might get a few solo moments in your day, but mostly likely you spend that time trying to “get stuff done” -- phone calls, errands, basic personal hygiene. (BTW, I have seen a woman flossing her teeth at 55 mph.)

My husband and I have an ongoing argument about his 2-hour daily commute. On the one hand, I know from experience that stressful rush-hour traffic is no picnic, but on the other hand? How awesome would it be to sit in a quiet, air-conditioned place drinking your coffee and listening to whatever you want on the stereo without complaint from the peanut gallery in the backseat?

A few months after C. and I first started dating, he moved an hour away for a job. Shortly after, I lost my job and moved to the same city. Lots of people thought it would have made sense for us to move in together. Nope, not for me. First of all, I wasn’t sure about this guy yet. And second of all, I was finally making enough money to not have roommates. Damn straight I was looking forward to that!

The funny part is I ended up renting an apartment directly downstairs from C. I was something like Apt. #526 and he was #527. In the evenings after work we’d usually eat dinner together and hang out. But then if I wanted to go to bed early or he wanted to watch some game I wasn’t interested in, I’d go back downstairs. I didn’t even have to put shoes on. It was awesome. It was like all the benefits of living together without the hassles of someone else’s dirty dishes in the sink or having to split the phone bill.

So, yeah. I sometimes miss having my own personal space. But every now and then I get an unexpected gift -- like today, when both boys are napping at the same time (!!) and I have a few quiet moments to myself. And I enjoy it all the more because these moments are as rare as a free babysitter.

NEWS O’ THE WEEK: The next session of my 6-week online writing class, “Personal Essays that Get Published” starts in 2 weeks! There are still some spaces left. The class offers great camaraderie, accountability and best of all, how-to tips on getting published, even if you never have before. Past students have sold their essays to Chicago Parent, Southern Living, The New York Times and more. Get more info and sign up here.

12 Ironies of Motherhood

1. Just when you figure out something your picky child will eat, he’ll decide he doesn’t like it anymore. “I don’t like chicken nuggets and mustard now, Mama!” Good thing I just bought them IN BULK at Costco!!

2. For once you make it to school on time -- and then you realize it’s a holiday.

3. The one time you leave your cell phone in the car while you go to the gym is the one time your sitter was frantically trying to get a hold of you because you left her a bottle for the baby but no nipple.

4. The baby FINALLY sleeps through the night -- but only because he has a fever.

5. Your child quietly entertains himself for a whole half-hour. Because he was busy drawing all over the furniture in the next room.

6. You get caught up on all your thank-you notes -- before realizing you forgot to address them before you sealed the envelopes.

7. At last, your toddler has started going #2 on the potty by himself! Too bad he pulls up his pants before telling you he needs to be wiped.

8. You manage to get both kids to take a nap at the same time -- but not on the same day.

9. In a rare fit of productivity, you make dinner from scratch. Then you burn the bajeezus out of it because you forgot to turn the stove off while you gave the baby a bath.

10. After months of trying, you and that super-busy mom finally schedule a playdate for your kids. Then someone contracts an infectious disease the day before.

11. You get everybody’s sheets washed, dried, and put back on their beds. The very next day, someone has a diaper blowout, throws up, or spills a juice box all over their bed -- or yours.*

*BTW, does anyone else get bloody knuckles from changing crib sheets? Do they really need to make those things so freaking tight??

12. You can't wait for your little shadow to be more independent. Then comes the day when he slams the door in your face because he “needs privacy” and he skips off to preschool without a backward glance.

NEWS O’ THE WEEK: The next session of my 6-week online writing class, “Personal Essays that Get Published” starts in a week! There’s still room for last-minute sign-ups. The class offers great camaraderie, accountability & best of all, how-to tips on getting published, even if you never have before. Past students have sold their essays to Chicago Parent, Southern Living, The New York Times & more. Get more info & sign up here.

Looks Like We Made It

Well, we made it. It wasn't pretty, but we made it. Before I get into the nitty gritty details of our trip, here's a list of suggested items to pack if you're considering traveling solo with kids:

- A change of clothes for everyone who will be within a 3-ft. radius of the baby
- 3-4 extra pairs of hands
- Thumbtacks to put on the seat of anyone who watches you struggling by yourself with 2 kids and doesn't lift a finger to help

Also, build in at least 2 extra hours before you have to catch your flight. This will allow for "hypothetical" situations, like the baby having a massive diaper blowout just before you get on the plane.

C. helped us carry our 2 tons of luggage into the airport and watched us go through security. They wouldn't let him go any farther. From behind the rope, he witnessed this: Me holding the boarding passes in my teeth while I tried to fold up the stroller and put it on the conveyor belt along with Miles' massive backback and my even more massive diaper bag, while simultaneously trying to remove my shoes and my son's shoes.

While this was happening, Riley, who was in his carseat on the floor but not buckled in, began to roll out onto the floor. Meanwhile, the impatient woman behind me in line did nothing to help except to push my stuff farther down the conveyor belt.

On the other side, however, a very nice pilot helped me unfold the stroller, clicked the carseat onto it -- the right way! -- and helped Miles put his backpack on. I would have kissed him if my husband wasn't watching.

By this time, we had missed boarding for not only the A group, but most of the B group as well. I was sweating and parched and without snacks of any kind, thinking I'd have plenty of time to buy refreshments before we got on the plane. Wrong. Also, I forgot to put a Pull-Up on Miles. Oy.

So we struggled onto the plane and sat almost all the way in the back next to another very nice Southwest pilot. (Not the one flying the plane, obviously.) I apologized in advance, but he smiled and said he had 2 boys of his own and asked if I needed any help. I barely refrained from weeping at his feet in gratitude.

Throughout the (thankfully) short flight, Miles entertained himself with a coloring book, bags of pretzels and peanuts, and looking out the window. That kid's a champ, I tell you. Everyone cracked up when the plane took off and he shouted, "WHEEEE!!! Blast-off!! This is FUN!" The lady in front of us turned around laughing and said, "That's what we're all thinking."

Riley, on the other hand... I'm sorry to say the friendly pilot may have taken a few kicks to the kidney, gotten his pant leg splattered with spit-up and probably saw more of my boobs than he wanted to. Also, the nap he tried to take? Didn't happen. Sorry, Mr. Pilot!

Even so, when we landed, people around us smiled and one even said, "The kids did great." Obviously they didn't notice the chunks of hair missing from my head where the baby ripped them out, or the enormous pile of pretzel crumbs on Miles' seat. Oh, well. Like I said, we made it.

Our stroller, however, did not. So much for gate checking. We spent an extra hour or so milling around baggage claim dealing with that while Miles tried to surf on the baggage conveyor belt thingy. The stroller was finally delivered to my parents' house at midnight.

Anyway, we're glad we came. We've been to the beach twice, and I can't overstate how wonderful it is to have someone else preparing meals for us. There's a special place in heaven for helpful grandparents. Now, if they could just do something about my kids' ungodly early wake-up time.

NEWS O' THE WEEK: Hurry, hurry, before it fills up: The next session of my online writing class, Personal Essays That Get Published, starts Oct. 6! Success stories from former students have been flooding in. They're getting published in Southern Living, Chicago Parent, Portland Family, even the New York Times. You go, students!! Get more info and sign up here.

Call Me, HGTV!

I’m a bit of an HGTV junkie. I love to watch home design and makeover shows. Not that I have the time, funds, or skills to take on projects in my own home, mind you. (Although I think I deserve some props for my monogrammed upholstered headboard!) I think I just like looking at clean, attractive spaces. Because they are so rare in our house.

One of my favorite shows is “Find Your Style,” where sassy redhead designer Karen McAloon comes to a couple’s house, walks around, and then tells them what their style of interior design is. Mine would be on the opposite end of the spectrum from minimalist. And it’s not exactly contemporary or country or traditional, either. It’s more like maximum clutter and multicolored plastic. Is there a “bomb went off” school of design? ‘Cause that’s us.

It’s not my fault, people. I’m not the neatest person in the world, but I have an appreciation of feng shui and good design. I feel better in a comfortable, uncluttered environment. Too bad my toddler’s running the show around here. His motto seems to be, “Every surface must be covered with everything I own at all times.” Or perhaps, “The more stuff, the better.” There is barely room in his bed for him, because he sleeps with about 14 assorted blankets, stuffed animals, and pillows.

I tell you, these darn kids are sabotaging my efforts to make my house NOT look like the aftermath of a natural disaster. Who doesn’t love a good “before & after”? Here are some from my house.

The coffee table before Miles:














The coffee table after Miles:














The kitchen table before Miles:














The kitchen table after Miles:














Sometimes I wonder why I bother. Some weeks I just give up and let the clutter consume us. Then it gets so I can’t stand it anymore and I clean up again. Only to have my bright, uncluttered space accessorized again with Spiderman and Mr. Potato Head. I wonder what Karen McAloon would say if she saw that?

LINK O’ THE WEEK: Hey, look, Karen has a MySpace page! It says she has a son, so maybe she DOES know where I’m coming from!

LAUGH O’ THE WEEK: I was saying goodnight to Miles and he stood up on his bed and said, “Night, Mom. Pea soup.” Huh? Then he held up 2 fingers in a V and repeated, “Pea soup!” Ohhhhh, OK. That would be “peace out.”

WRITING NEWS: Want to write a book? Want to teach others about your specialty? Writer Mama Christina Katz shows you how to Craft a Book Proposal and Turn Your Specialty Into Course Curriculum. Find out more about her classes here. Hurry, they start May 6!

Schooled By My Students

It’s a thrill to watch my kids learn and grow and master new skills. But since they are only 2.5 and 1 mo. old, those skills are along the lines of learning to ride a scooter and finding their own foot. I get a different kind of thrill from seeing my writing students succeed. And boy, do they! One just got published in the New York Times! Go, M.G.!!

There’s little that’s more gratifying than helping a writer develop her talent and confidence so she can go out into the harsh world of publishing and not only survive, but thrive. You all read/saw “The Devil Wears Prada,” right? Editors can be scary!! (Not mine, of course, should they happen to be reading. Mine are all gentle and decent people with normal-sized egos, I swear!)

I’ve come to realize that I often learn as much from my students as they learn from me. For instance, one person wrote about the struggle to potty train her son. Boy, can I relate! Reading that made me realize I’m not the only one who risks frittering away her retirement fund on Pull-Ups. (I refuse to buy them in bulk. I’m in denial. I keep thinking, “This will be the LAST pack!”) Another thoughtful essay detailed the writer’s difficult adjustment to being a stay-at-home mom. Again, I can relate!

Another essay that sticks with me is about a mom’s coming to terms with her different relationship with each of her sons. She described her first baby as cheerful and charming, while her second was solemn and reserved. She worried she was a bad mother for comparing them, and feared her first-born would always be her favorite. Ultimately, she realized she loves both boys equally, but differently. I totally get this now!

Somewhat embarrassingly, I burst into tears at the pediatrician’s office the other day, partly due to guilt over this issue. It had been a horrible morning, trying to get 2 kids to 2 different doctors’ appointments on opposite sides of town. One involved pinning my screaming 2-y.o.’s arms to his sides while forcing him to breathe asthma medication through a nebulizer. The other required pinning down my screaming newborn while he got a Hepatitis B shot.

So, anyway, our pediatrician is so nice and warm and caring. I wailed about how Miles had never been like this baby, who does nothing but cry and spit up and insist on being held 24/7. I said I felt bad for Miles and bad about myself for feeling frustrated with Riley. And you know what the doctor said? That this is completely normal.

After all, she pointed out, I have a bond with Miles. He’s been my main man for almost 3 years now. (My main man in diapers, that is.) And newborns don’t give a lot back, as needy as they are. It’s all “feed me, burp me, change me, rock me” with not even a smile in return. Admit it: if you were dating your baby, you’d dump him so fast it’d make his head spin.

The doctor also said that Miles was an unusual baby and that Riley is what most babies are like. Oh, really? That means my little handful of a first-born was actually our EASY baby, in retrospect! I don’t know if this makes me feel better or worse. The doctor also said Riley would probably outgrow some of his issues in a few months. And you know what? The other night he actually slept 4.5 hours in a row. And I swear he smiled this morning. A light at the end of the tunnel!

Besides, as my SIL made me realize the other day, it’s a little early to brand Riley the black sheep of the family and start dressing him in “Bad to the Bone” onesies. He’s only a month old, for Pete’s sake!!

Anyway … thanks, students, for teaching me while I teach you. Keep those success stories coming. Now stop reading this blog and go write something!

READS O’ THE WEEK: Famed mom blogger Dooce has a new book out. And here’s another one that’s on my wish list: Sleep Is for the Weak: The Best of the Mommybloggers Including Amalah, Finslippy, Fussy, Woulda Coulda Shoulda, Mom-101, and More!

Alone at Last

This morning I found myself in a strange and unfamiliar situation … alone. Miles went back to school today and C. started his new job. He was off for 2 weeks over the holidays, which was great and unexpected. We went from seeing him maybe an hour a day to having him around all the time. Miles was thrilled to have unlimited Daddy time, and I was glad to have some backup, especially now that my belly is bigger than a VW Bug. Kinda makes it hard to wrestle a toddler into the bathtub, you know?

Although it did take me some time to adjust. At first, I’d come downstairs in the morning (after sleeping in a blissful extra half-hour) to find the guys still in their PJs, watching TV, and eating cereal out of the box. And I was all, “The routine!! You’re messing up the routine! Don’t you know he’s got to be dressed by 8:15 and he needs to eat some breakfast with protein or the ENTIRE DAY will be SHOT to HELL?!” OK, maybe I wasn’t quite that bad. But what can I say, I’m used to parenting on my own.

Then once I got used to having a co-parent around, I couldn’t imagine it any other way. I went to the gym! Took naps! Ate sitting down! Went to the bathroom by myself! Showered regularly! It was heaven, I tell you. But now, sadly, it’s back to reality.

When I found myself alone this morning, I couldn’t even remember what I used to do. Oh, yeah—write. So here I am, updating my blog, returning e-mail, and reminding everyone about the next session of my 6-week online writing class, Personal Essays that Get Published, which begins Jan. 14.

Let me take a moment to brag about some former students. One got an essay included in an anthology, one got published on HybridMom.com, and another sold a piece to Southern Living. That’s the big leagues, people! My students are more successful than I am! Although I do have Big Writing News to share next month. But let’s not get ahead of myself…

Writing is one of those things that I love to do, yet I can very easily find reasons NOT to do it. For instance, I spent the last several weeks obsessing over home decorating decisions, sending out Christmas cards, arguing with online retailers over free shipping, and recycling the approximately 7 tons of cardboard and plastic that came into my house over the holidays.

Plus we had houseguests and parties and various other holiday activities to go to, and what was I going to say, “Sorry, I can’t come to your cookie exchange because I have to WRITE”? What am I, Hemingway or something? (BTW, Stephen King claims he writes 365 days a year. Of course, I guess you command a smidge more respect as a writer when you’re STEPHEN KING.)

And yet, I won’t allow myself to miss deadlines or disappoint blog readers (all 20 of you). I just can’t shirk that crushing responsibility; it’s who I am. So when I do finally find/make time to write after a break, I’m always newly surprised to find that I truly enjoy it and feel better after doing it. Kind of like going to the gym. Or cooking dinner that doesn’t come out of a box.

Anyway, here’s to finding time for what you love this year. Whether that’s hanging out with friends, writing, scrapbooking, rescuing Shar Peis, whatever. Bonus points if it allows you to be alone for whole hours at a time!

PLEA O’ THE WEEK: Please keep my friend S. in your thoughts. Her husband lost his job this week after 16 years with the same company. 3 kids, a mortgage, etc. I don’t know about you, but I’m ready for some GOOD news right about now.

In the Wrong Moment

Something I hear all the time lately is to “be in the moment.” Aren’t we always being told to focus on the present, Be Here Now, and appreciate the little things, because IT ALL GOES SO FAST!! People especially love to say this to new moms.

I always want to tell these people, “Look, I get that your baby grew up overnight and is now graduating college and you’re all sentimental about it, but mine is still an ACTUAL BABY who gets up in the middle of the night and demands attention and nourishment and diaper changes 24/7. So excuse me if I don’t agree with you that this time is as fleeting and precious as a rainbow.”

While we’re at it, let’s talk about this “being in the moment” thing. When people say that, I think they are picturing moments such as your baby taking his first steps. Laughing in delight as a butterfly lands on his nose in a meadow of wildflowers. A puppy licking ice cream off his chin. Watching your little angel sleep peacefully in his crib. Well, who WOULDN’T want to be in THOSE moments?!

What about the moments when you’re waiting in line at the pharmacy and your child is plucking every single pack of gum off the rack and then rummaging in the wastebasket that’s probably filled with used hypodermic needles? What about the moments when you’re in church and your baby is releasing toxic fumes into the air and his diaper? What about the moments when you take your child to get a haircut during your lunch hour and for no reason whatsoever, he throws a complete fit? Anyone lining up to be fully present in THOSE moments? Anyone??

What many people fail to understand is, when you have a small child, there are many, many, MANY moments in the day. Too many, some might say. Considering that many babies wake up at, oh, let’s say 6 a.m. and may not go to bed till at least 7:30 p.m. – and even then it’s probably not for a solid 8-10 hours – that’s 13 ½ HOURS WORTH OF MOMENTS!! (OK, you can subtract a couple for a nap.) Even the Dalai Lama could not be fully present and at peace for that many moments in a row!

In fact, much of early parenthood is not about savoring the moments, but rather about getting through them. My friend L.H.’s baby gets up at the ungodly hour of 5:30 a.m. every day. So she takes her for long walks in the stroller to pass the time until she has to go to work. When people say “be in the moment,” you can be sure they’re not considering moments that occur before 8 a.m., people!! Before COFFEE, even!

These are the moments you’ll find me “being in”: when I come downstairs wearing earrings and a nice shirt and Miles says, unprompted, “Oh, you look pretty, Mommy!” That puddle on the floor? That’s my heart melting. Or even less emotional moments, like this morning when we’re brushing our teeth and he says, “We all have eyebrows.” How awesome is that? He is like a tiny Zen Buddhist, full of awareness and wisdom.

We leave tomorrow for our annual vacation at the beach with the family, so I’m taking a week off. Wish me luck – I’m sure our trip will be filled with all sorts of moments.

NEWS O’ THE WEEK: Calling all writers and would-be writers! I’m teaching an online class starting Aug. 20, called “Personal Essays that Get Published.” The 6-week e-mail class will teach you how to find ideas, how to craft catchy openings and solid endings, and how to submit your work to magazines.

Several of my blog entries here have turned into essays published in such places as American Baby, Health magazine, the Baltimore Sun, and the Boston Globe. So if you’re interested in writing for fame and profit, sign up now before the last few spots fill up! More info here.

QUOTE O’ THE WEEK: “Feed the baby, wipe off the barf, change stinky diaper, kiss your husband, sign your best-selling book – just another typical day in the life of a mommy!”
–Tori Spelling