A Lesson In You Can’t Do It All – My Last Post Here

Photo by Greg Knapp (click pic for link)

I think it was Oprah who said that the universe teaches us lessons and that if we don’t get the lesson the first time, the universe will amplify the message and hit you with it again. And again. Until you get it. Well, apparently the lesson I need to learn is balance and how to say “no”. Not just to other people, but to myself.  All my life, I’ve been the “yes” girl. If someone asks me to do something, I go out of my way to get it done even if I don’t have time or have three thousand other things to do. I want to be helpful. I don’t want to miss any opportunities. I want to do it all!

But, here’s the thing: you can’t. Well, at least I can’t. I never realized how busy this job of being a writer is. I’m freaking amazed at those who can do it and hold down a full time job. I get 4-5 hours a day with my kidlet at school where I can work and I know that’s more than many get, but still I find myself harried. And part of this craziness and always being behind is because I say yes to too many things–yes, I’ll do a guest post; yes, I’ll write an extra novella in addition to two novels a year; yes, I’ll teach that class; yes, I’ll blog 5 days a week on my own site AND do a group blog. I say yes to those things because I love all of  them, but it can just pile on and pile on until I’m drowning.

Part of this is my own scattered brain. I’m going to blame it on being a creative type (hey, I gotta use that excuse somewhere, right?). When I’m focused on a project, like writing a book, I have trouble paying attention to other things. My brain is wrapped up in another world. I’ll put a pot of water on to boil for tea and then not remember it until I hear the dry pot sizzling on the stove with all the water evaporated. Or my husband will ask me a question and even though I’m looking straight at him, I have no idea what he said. I call it writer brain.

And one of the weaknesses and strengths of my writer brain is that singular focus. It’s like the opposite of ADD–like obsession, but friendlier. It helps me write books and  keeps me from  giving up 20k into a 100k novel. But it also means that when I’m in writing mode, small things become big stressors. When I know I have this many blog posts due and this many emails to return and oh the group (for a blog like this) needs to decide on something and I need to prepare stuff for a conference–it starts to feel like I’m in the middle of Times Square and trying to look at everything at once. I can’t concentrate…on anything.

So, I’m learning that I have to streamline and not spread myself too thin. I am a wife and mother first, a writer second, and an everything else after that. If I keep piling on stuff from that third category, I won’t get anything done at all. Which is why I’m stepping down as a member of this blog. I LOVE this blog and the ladies here. And I learn something from every post. But I’m better suited to be a fan of it at this point than a regular contributor. I have to learn to tell myself no sometimes. And this is the start.

Maybe this will be the beginning of me finally learning this lesson.

I’ll still be blogging at my own site, so if you want to stop by, I’d love to see you.

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I’m Roni Loren, or as I’m called ‘round these parts, No Drama Mama. I’ve been married for ten years and have a four-year old son, who has recently been diagnosed with high-functioning autism. My days are spent writing very sexy romances (my PC way of saying erotic),avoiding all things housework, and hanging out with a kidlet who I suspect is vastly smarter than I am. I secretly dream of having a life that looks like the pages of Real Simple magazine, but would settle for Sorta Decent if could get there. My daily goal is to keep the drama on the pages of my books and out of my life–I’m successful at least twenty percent of the time. www.roniloren.com

On Milk Allergies and Trusting Your Mommy Gut

There are millions of new things to worry about when you bring a newborn home for the first time, especially when it’s your first child. You’re completely freaking clueless no matter how much you thought you prepared ahead of time. And I was no exception. I had read every book I could get my hands on, had followed all the “rules”. For nine months I didn’t have even a sip of wine, I avoided deli meat and hot dogs because of listeria, and I skipped peanut butter in the third trimester because it can trigger allergies in the unborn child (supposedly.) Yes, I was that mom, Ms. Paranoid, take everything the baby book says as gospel.

So when I brought my lovely, wrinkly newborn home, I thought I was armed with knowledge. Well, yeah, that didn’t go so well. For the first eight weeks, my baby was miserable. He wouldn’t sleep, he cried nonstop and after nursing, he seemed to be in pain, his little knees curling to his chest as he passed the most ferocious gas ever. Seriously, how could something so little be so loud? I brought him to the doctor, convinced he had something wrong and my pediatrician at the time told me, “probably colic.” Colic–code for, we don’t know what the hell is wrong with him and you’re being dramatic.

So off I went back home with my baby still miserable (and me out of my mind with exhaustion and worry.) I remember calling my mom one night when my husband was out of town and my son wouldn’t stop crying. I burst into hysterical tears along with him over the phone and freaked my poor mother out. She was on a plane the next day (even though she’d just left a week before) to come and help me. Bless mothers.

And of course, my mom, being my mom, was like–there is something wrong. I don’t care what the doctor says. This is not normal. Finally, someone who agreed with me. So off to the trusty internet I went to start researching and self-diagnosing (usually dangerous, but in this case helpful.) I found out about milk allergy and went back to my doctor to ask about it. During the visit, kidlet conveniently let one of his epic gas episodes rip and the doctor asked in shock, “Is it always like that?”

Hello! Yes, have you not been listening to me?

So long story short (well, not so short), but they tested kidlet and he had a milk AND a soy allergy. Not the anaphylactic shock kind, but an intestinal allergy which made his intestines bleed. Poor guy had been suffering any time I had the slightest bit of anything with milk/soy in it and he’d take it in through breast milk. I had to cut all milk and soy out of my diet–which is basically everything. Try finding a loaf of bread in a normal store that doesn’t have milk. It wasn’t fun, but I was determined.

Kidlet recovered and after he turned three, we were able to work some dairy and soy back into his diet. Doc declared him fully recovered, though I still had my doubts. He seemed to have problems after he drank straight up milk, so I pulled him off of it. I thought I was being paranoid, but then this week kidlet started summer day care and went from home-packed lunches to school lunches. Well, two days on milk and he’s had diarrhea for a week. *sigh* Apparently he hasn’t grown out of it. I don’t quite understand how he can now have cheese with no problem but milk or yogurt set him off. It may have developed into a lactose intolerance instead of an allergy. But anyhow, once again I’m checking labels and monitoring what he eats at school.

So, honestly, I’m not sure what my point is in this post, lol. But I know when I was looking for info on milk allergies as a new mom, it was helpful to hear stories from other moms since the doctor kept telling me “colic.” So maybe someone who needs to read this will find it. Also, it’s a lesson in trusting your parental instincts even if you’re new to the whole mommyhood thing. If I hadn’t kept pushing and researching, I would’ve continued unknowlingly torturing my child.

Have you ever had a time where trusting your mommy (or daddy) instincts got you the answer you needed? Anyone else had a child with “colic”?  Does your child suffer with food allergies or sensitivities?

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I’m Roni Loren, or as I’m called ‘round these parts, No Drama Mama. I’ve been married for ten years and have a four-year old son, who has recently been diagnosed with high-functioning autism. My days are spent writing very sexy romances (my PC way of saying erotic),avoiding all things housework, and hanging out with a kidlet who I suspect is vastly smarter than I am. I secretly dream of having a life that looks like the pages of Real Simple magazine, but would settle for Sorta Decent if could get there. My daily goal is to keep the drama on the pages of my books and out of my life–I’m successful at least twenty percent of the time. www.roniloren.com

In Denial About Summer

I kind of hate summer. There, I said it. Summer does not make me happy. Maybe if I lived some place lovely where summer meant 75 degree days and afternoon rain showers. But no, I live in Dallas where it gets so hot that you can hardly bear to be inside with your overworked air conditioning (which can never keep up), much less actually venture outside into the 100+ degree oven daily. And it is just not natural for it to still be 95 degrees at midnight. Seriously.

But now I have an added thing to make me dread summer. Lack of school for kidlet. Up until last summer he’s been in part-time daycare. So it didn’t matter when summer came because his schedule stayed the same. But now that he’s going to the special preschool program with the school district, that program ends just like all the others for summer. And since he’s still not potty-trained at four (please God, let this click soon), that means daycares now won’t take him and summer camps are out. So our only option is a drop in daycare that we use on occasion. I like the place, but it’s limited and he’s going to get bored if he goes there too much.

But mommy (that’d be me) has to write a novella and full novel by the end of October. And there’s no way I’m going to get all that done without some kidlet free work time. So basically, I’m in denial. I’m refusing to even think about the long days of trying to keep a very active, very intense child busy.

So I’m appealing to you moms out there. What are some activities you use to keep your little ones busy during the summer that give you a little bit of quiet time in the process? And am I the only one with her head in the sand about summer?

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I’m Roni Loren, or as I’m called ‘round these parts, No Drama Mama. I’ve been married for ten years and have a four-year old son, who has recently been diagnosed with high-functioning autism. My days are spent writing very sexy romances (my PC way of saying erotic),avoiding all things housework, and hanging out with a kidlet who I suspect is vastly smarter than I am. I secretly dream of having a life that looks like the pages of Real Simple magazine, but would settle for Sorta Decent if could get there. My daily goal is to keep the drama on the pages of my books and out of my life–I’m successful at least twenty percent of the time. www.roniloren.com

The Polite Child Faces the World of Rudeness

So one of the jobs of a parent is to teach your children social norms, how to interact with society, and hopefully, how to be polite and friendly person. And having a child with autism means this is an even bigger focus for my household because my kidlet doesn’t have that finely tuned sensor that picks up those social cues like a “typical” child would. So we work with my son on learning how to engage people, how to have a give and take conversation, and what things could be considered rude. It’s a painstaking process at times.

However, earlier this week I had to bring him to school instead of him riding the bus because they were going on a special field trip. And as I was waiting outside with him, other kids were streaming into the school for their normal day. Well, my dear kidlet saw a little boy walk by who looked to be kindergarten age–so probably a year older than him. And kidlet perked up and said, “Hi! How are you?” And I’m thinking–well, look at that, my son is reaching out and engaging a child. Score!

But then the kid turned his head and gave my kidlet this snotty, what’s-your-problem look. Of course, kidlet didn’t register that reaction. He just smiled and waved at the boy.

Then, not thirty seconds later, another boy–probably eight–pulled onto the sidewalk on his bike. Kidlet–always one to be excited by the simplest things–said, “Wow, I like that bike!”  The kid rolled his eyes and said in a sarcastic tone, “Whatever. That was so three weeks ago.”

My jaw probably hit the grass. I kinda wanted to trip the kid right off that damn bike. He was old enough to see the child talking to him was all of four. And I was standing right there, holding kidlet’s hand.

And that’s when reality truly sank in–the world, especially in kid land, is mean and cruel. I’m trying to teach kidlet “social norms” but what if social norms mean being a bratty jerk? Here kidlet is being innocent and trying to practice what mommy and daddy are telling him are the “nice” things to do, and he’s shot down or ignored over and over again. It breaks my heart a little each time. I know it’s part of the deal. Kids certainly weren’t nice all the time in my childhood either. But it seems it’s only getting worse. Now they don’t even seem to keep it in check around adults.

It’s ugly and it’s sad. And it makes me want to build a cocoon around my sweet, innocent boy even though I know that’s not realistic or preparing him for the world at large. But knowing that he has deficits in those social areas makes me worry even more for him. He doesn’t have the tools to defend himself right now and probably won’t for a while–if ever. It’s like being thrown into war with a toothbrush when everyone else has machine guns.

But despite all that and all my worries, I have to say, I’m glad I have the polite child even if it come with lots of challenges. He may be an anomaly amongst his “normal” peers, but that doesn’t make the other kids behaviors the right ones. A lot of them could learn something from him.

*end rant*

I really did want to trip that kid.

How do you handle it when your child is picked on or other children shut them out? What social norms do you try to instill in your own children?

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I’m Roni Loren, or as I’m called ‘round these parts, No Drama Mama. I’ve been married for ten years and have a four-year old son, who has recently been diagnosed with high-functioning autism. My days are spent writing very sexy romances (my PC way of saying erotic),avoiding all things housework, and hanging out with a kidlet who I suspect is vastly smarter than I am. I secretly dream of having a life that looks like the pages of Real Simple magazine, but would settle for Sorta Decent if could get there. My daily goal is to keep the drama on the pages of my books and out of my life–I’m successful at least twenty percent of the time. www.roniloren.com

Enough with the “Mommy Porn” Label – Moms Are Still Women

Photo by Carlos Giesemann (click pic for link)

I know we usually talk about our kids on here, but I have a subject near and dear to the kinds of books I write that is kind of driving me crazy. If you haven’t been living under a rock–or even if you have–you’ve probably heard of the book 50 Shades of Grey. It’s the BDSM erotic romance that has broken out into blockbuster status. It’s been on the Today Show, 20/20, and even Dr. Oz talked about it today. It’s everywhere.

BDSM erotic romance is what I write, so obviously I’ve been paying a lot of attention to this hoopla. Mainly because I’m amused that everyone is talking about how scandalous and new this is when BDSM romance has been around for a LONG time and has been a thriving subgenre of romance for at least a decade. But anyway, what’s getting REALLY old is the media’s portrayal of books “like that” being “mommy” porn.

First of all, porn is porn. Romance novels are romance novels. The two are not the same. If a “mommy” wants porn, she can go on the internet or buy pay-per-view like anyone else. If she wants a sexy story with a plot, developed characters, and love story she picks up a romance novel. But here’s the thing–why is it so scandalous that moms are reading sexy books? Once we procreate, are we relegated to being washed up women with used uteri (uteruses?) who are now supposed to focus on nothing but making the perfect lasagnas and singing choruses of Sesame Street songs with our kidlets?

Yes, we do those things (well, I still haven’t gotten the hang of lasagna). We ARE moms. That is a hugely important role in our lives. But it’s just one role. We didn’t lose our woman card in the process. We’re still sexual beings who like a little naughtiness on occasion (or often, lol.) We still like to be swept away by romance. We still want our husbands to give us that how-you-doin’ look. We still want to feel sexy and wanted and feminine. And there shouldn’t be anything wrong with that. Moms shouldn’t be shamed for wanting those things, and calling sexy books “mommy porn” is shaming, plain and simple.

I’ve had enough of it.

So if you like your sexy romances, be proud. Read them in public, pass recommendations to your friends, and never ever apologize for what you like. You’re probably having a lot more fun once the kids go to bed than those who are looking down at it and calling it “mommy porn” are.

SHAMELESS PLUG AHEAD – feel free to look away…

Here’s my book, Crash Into You,  if you want to give a BDSM romance a try. (I even have one coming out next month that’s about *gasp* a married mother.) And if mine’s a little too naughty for you, all the other moms on here have some super fab smexy books too. : )

So how do you feel about the whole “mommy porn” label? Do you feel like you have to hide what you read so you don’t get judged by others?

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Roni Loren wrote her first romance novel at age fifteen when she discovered writing about boys was way easier than actually talking to them. Since then, her flirting skills haven’t improved, but she likes to think her storytelling ability has. Though she’ll forever be a New Orleans girl at heart, she now lives in Dallas with her husband and son. If she’s not working on her latest sexy story, you can find her reading, watching reality television, or indulging in her unhealthy addiction to rockstars, er, rock concerts. Yeah, that’s it. Website: www.roniloren.com

What Race Are We In Again? Parental Competition

Photo by Duncan Hull (click pic for link)

Ask anyone who knows me, and they’ll tell you I’m competitive. I grew up playing sports and kind of took on the mentality of second place is first loser. (Let’s not talk about how I was salutatorian in both junior high AND high school. I have perpetual second place-itis it seems.) But one place where I thought would be free of competition has turned out to be an arena rife with it–the world of parenting.

It all starts with those annoying emails you sign up for when you’re pregnant. They’re exciting in the beginning–your baby is now the size of a Skittle and can feel when your stomach rumbles! Or whatever. But those things don’t go away after the baby comes. And then they morph from being fun little bits of information to measuring sticks that stress you out, make you paranoid, and become the chatter of fellow parents.

And boy, are parents competitive. It’s subtle and wrapped in a tone that lifts at the end, like what’s being said is oh-so-friendly, but the judgement is there. “Soooo, Sunshine Sparklepants is walking already and doing long division with her toes. I see your little guy is still rolling around like a neanderthal and sucking his thumb. Have you checked with your doctor about that? Are you bringing him to Dance Your Face Off classes on Saturdays? I’d bet he’d build that leg strength up if you did…”

Okay, so maybe it’s a bit more subtle than that, but it’s insidious nonetheless. And we all can fall into it. Measuring our kid up to the neighbors, flaunting our kid’s special talents or developmental leaps, pointing out things in other children who we think *should* be further along.

But listen–we need to stop this. Only your family cares about little Susie’s musical genius on the xylophone. And when you’re rambling on about your kid’s greatness, you may be telling it to a parent who is worried out of their mind, dealing with developmental delays in their own child or doubting their own parenting skills because their kid is a few stages behind.

How do I know? Because I am that mom. My son has high-functioning autism and has some developmental delays. I was that mom who was obsessing over every little thing–why did he take an extra month to point? Is he smiling at me or is it just gas? Why isn’t he talking in sentences yet?

So when another mom would start yammering on about her child’s precociousness and asking me endless questions about what stage my son was at, it would just make me feel more worried about my child and more inadequate as a mother. Of course, those moms who said those things weren’t trying to be mean or worry me. But even if they didn’t intend it, a strong undercurrent of competitiveness and my-kid-is-better-than-yours is present. So stop and think before you pull out that measuring stick.

And be proud of wherever your child is on the scale. A victory for your child is a victory no matter if it’s two months before or two years behind the neighbor’s kid.

My four-year old…

is not potty trained yet

has trouble having back and forth conversations

can’t tell me how his day was at school

still has trouble falling asleep on his own at night

and has to be the one to open doors or he gets upset

BUT he also…

can read books at a first grade level

knows the names and capitals of all 50 states and their location on the map

can count to 50

taught himself his upper and lowercase alphabet, colors, and shapes at age 2

can remember how to get somewhere even when mommy can’t

and always can make me smile.

So you know what? To hell with those emails and walk away from those comparison conversations. Obviously, you need to be aware if your child has delays because you want to get help and early intervention when needed, but don’t ever let anyone make you feel like your child is less than or “wrong” because they’re on a different path than another. We’re all individuals on our own timeline. This isn’t a race. There is no prize for the kid who learns to roll over first.

*end rant*  :)

Have you ever found yourself in one of those competitive parenting conversations? What did your child do slowly or quickly that made you have a parent freak out?

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I’m Roni Loren, or as I’m called ‘round these parts, No Drama Mama. I’ve been married for ten years and have a four-year old son, who has recently been diagnosed with high-functioning autism. My days are spent writing very sexy romances (my PC way of saying erotic),avoiding all things housework, and hanging out with a kidlet who I suspect is vastly smarter than I am. I secretly dream of having a life that looks like the pages of Real Simplemagazine, but would settle for Sorta Decent if could get there. My daily goal is to keep the drama on the pages of my books and out of my life–I’m successful at least twenty percent of the time. www.roniloren.com

The Too Observant Child

Photo by Juushika Redgrave (click pic for link)

So there’s this phase after you have a baby, a span of time where your child is not old enough to understand or catch on to everything going on around them, and you can get away with some things. You can have conversations that you know they aren’t following, you can listen to music that may have questionable lyrics, you can “trick” them (you know having that really noisy toy magically disappear). It’s a nice little time where you don’t have to be quite so careful.

I thought my kidlet (age 4) was still somewhat in this stage. He’s a little hard to figure out because he’s wicked smart but then has some language delays. So sometimes I think we underestimate exactly how much he’s observing and picking up. For instance, when he was two I was out at an ice cream shop with him and the song “Gives You Hell” by The All-American Rejects came on the radio. Well, I used to play music videos in the background when I did housework. Well, there’s this clap they do in the video at a very precise moment. And guess who clapped his hands over his head at the exact moment that part came up?  (The clap is at the :45 mark if you want to see it.)

This interest in music and ability to remember it has only increased with time. He can now do most of the choreography for Lady Gaga’s Bad Romance from when we watched the concert on TV. So we now try to be aware of what we’re letting him see or listen to. Though, I have to admit it’s kind of cool to have a kid who can hear songs in the grocery store and announces to everyone, “This is Journey! This is Foo Fighters! I love Pink!” : )

But now his observation skills have moved beyond TV and music. Now he’s apparently watching mommy and daddy much closer than we thought.

Conversation he had in the car this week with his daddy…

Kidlet: That’s the house with the trick-or-treat.

Hubs: You mean, that’s the house you went to when you trick or treated?

Kidlet: Yes, for Halloween.

Daddy: And what did they give you when you trick or treated?

Kidlet: Candy!

Daddy: And what did you do with the candy?

Kidlet: Mommy ate it.

*cringe* Now, for the record, I didn’t eat ALL the candy. But frankly, he’s not that far off. I’m kind of the healthy-cooking, organic, no food dyes kind of mama, so I limit his junk food pretty carefully. But I thought that after the few chocolates I gave him, he’d forgotten about the rest of it. Um, apparently not. Clearly, he knew just where all that stuff was and who was eating it, lol. So sneaky me was not as stealthy as I thought.

Lesson learned: Big Brother Kidlet is watching you.

I’m now on my best behavior. Easter candy will be shared by all. : )

So has your kidlet ever figured out something you were trying to “trick” them on? Or have you ever been caught red-handed like me? 

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I’m Roni Loren,or as I’ll be called ‘round these parts, No Drama Mama. I’ve been married for ten years and have a four-year old son, who has recently been diagnosed with high-functioning autism. My days are spent writing very sexy romances (my PC way of saying erotic),avoiding all things housework, and hanging out with a kidlet who I suspect is vastly smarter than I am. I secretly dream of having a life that looks like the pages of Real Simplemagazine, but would settle for Sorta Decent if could get there. My daily goal is to keep the drama on the pages of my books and out of my life–I’m successful at least twenty percent of the time. www.roniloren.com