Guest Post: My Annual Sanity-Saving Scrapbooking Vacation

The PBKMoms are pleased to welcome Amy Moss and her sanity-saving vacation tips!

It started so innocently, like most life-changing, amazing ideas do.

I was sitting around a dining room table with my four close girlfriends.  Two years prior we had all taken up scrapbooking as a hobby.  This is not a story about scrapbooking; so if you are not into scrapbooking, don’t worry. In place of scrapbooking you can insert knitting, crocheting, needlepointing, cross-stitching, quilting or any other favorite craft.  We’d found a hour or two here and there on rare weekends to get together, drink wine and try to put pictures of our children into scrapbooks.  Scrapbooking is a great hobby because it is a shopper’s dream.  There is always something new to buy – sparkly jewels, Mickey Mouse die cuts, just the right shade of black paper (It does not exist.) and on and on.  I have more scrapbooking supplies than I will use in my lifetime, but still I buy that new Victorian Halloween paper that would be perfect for my imaginary fall layout.

Anyway, it was not for a lack of supplies that led to the great revelation, but rather an over-abundance of them.  We had so many neat scrapbooking toys that it made it hard to get together.  Even with Creative Memories rolling luggage bags, it was a hassle to pack it all up.  We’d complained about this problem at several crops.  Then enlightenment hit - What if we went away for the weekend and scrapped?

Wait a minute! Could we go somewhere away from the kids, away from the husbands, away from the jobs, away from the cleaning, cooking, laundry, playdates, swim teams, etc.??  This idea was pretty unheard of outside of bachelorette parties to Vegas or New Orleans.  Our voices dropped to whispers, lest anyone hear of our novel scheme.  The more we talked, the more we loved the idea, and so we made a list of requirements:

1. Location must be within driving distance – shorter the better.
2. We each need our own room – Ladies, after college you are too old to share a room.
3. We need a place with a large space to all sit together.
4. We need a TV, DVD player and sturdy blender.

The plan was born: Friday through Sunday in a rented house on the beach in Galveston, Texas.  Just us girls - all together with no responsibilities (and, as it turns out, a lot of tequila) for three whole days!  After our first weekend together we knew that we had something unique and precious.  Something we were determined to do again… regularly…  and our annual scrapbooking weekend was born!

Unlike other girls-only vacations there is no running around to see antiques or museums or going out to restaurants or bars.   And no shopping.  No need to worry about what to wear or wanting to go home because you are tired when everyone else wants to party.  With this vacation there is no schedule!  You get up when you want to.  You go to bed when you want to.  Hell, you even get to take a nap if you feel like it!  You also don’t need to worry about what to bring.  Pajamas, t-shirts and yoga pants are pretty much all you need.  No one to see you.  Your girlfriends don’t care that your hair is in a scrunchie and you are wearing old Eeyore pjs.

Remember there is no schedule here and you have nowhere to be.  So cocktails start whenever you want them.  It is a safe drinking environment because there is no driving.  Your girlfriends are watching out for you with Advil and water.  So have that mimosa with breakfast and smile!

This is the time to watch all those chick flick movies that your husband and kids don’t want to see.  So pull out the Notebook and the tissues!  Haven’t seen the first season of Downtown Abbey – you can watch the whole thing this weekend!  Want to watch Gone with the Wind again – all four hours of it – with enough vodka you can do it.  I also recommend a PBS mini-series, any Jane Austen movie and missed seasons of Glee.   

 Now is the time to indulge in the food you love.  Never have you seen a grocery cart so full of delicious and unhealthy junk.  Oreos, five different kids of cheese, salami, BBQ potato chips, peanut M&Ms, etc.  You name the junk food and we eat it guilt-free.  This is vacation and the calories don’t count.  We take turns cooking dinner or we decide to just eat olives and cookies.

However, the best part about these scrapbooking weekends is being with friends that are family.  We talk.  A lot.  About everything.  Life’s scary challenges have been tackled with laughter, tears and loving support (plus a little drunken dancing).  If I have a problem, I know these girls will be there with at least three possible answers and a shoulder to lay my weary head on.  Their experience with home and business matters is invaluable and this weekend gives us the opportunity to swap stories and best practices.  It is a safe place to bare our souls…. and we get a little scrapbooking done too.

In short, this is a wonderful stay-cation away from home with your best girlfriends doing a hobby you love.  This relaxing time is the best weekend any over-stressed mom could have.  I hope you can plan your trip soon!

Amy Moss is Corporate Securities and M&A partner at Haynes and Boone, LLP in Houston, Texas.  She is the proud mom of two amazing kids, Z-Girl who is finishing up third grade and Z-Boy who starts kindergarten in the fall.  She is lucky to be married to Z-Husband, whose idea it was to pick names for the children that start with Z.

C, D, P, M and K – can’t wait till scrapbooking weekend in September!

More on Mommy Guilt and Grief

Robyn’s post earlier this week really moved me, probably because I was thinking of writing something similar. I was going to write more about miscarriage, but here’s the truth about that topic–once you are a few years past it, the pain and all the feelings that go with it, fade. This is good news for those of you who have recently been through a miscarriage, though I’m sure everyone has told you that and it doesn’t make you feel any better about the loss you have just experienced.

After my miscarriage, there were days I was so resentful of mothers. I was a teacher, and I’d watch the parents of the kids I taught and think, they don’t appreciate their child. They don’t know how lucky they are to have such a wonderful little boy or girl. And I even thought that about the kids that drove me nuts.

So when I got pregnant with Baby Galen, you know I had every intention of cherishing her and every moment of motherhood. I would not take any of it for granted. And then she was born, and it was all wonderful for about 3 days. Then we took her home, and it was the worst 18 months of my life. I say this in all honesty. It was the darkest period in my life, and I have had some very dark times.

We moved out of the house we lived in when our daughter was born when she was about 18 months old, but we still live nearby. I drove past our old house yesterday, and even driving that street forms a pit of black yuck in my belly. Even if Baby Galen is sitting behind me, chatting happily, making me laugh, I drive that street and I cannot help but feel some of those same emotions of fear, depression, anxiety, despair. It all comes back.

I could say much of the awfulness of that time was due to the fact that Baby Galen was a very difficult baby. I could tell you stories…This was a baby who really didn’t want to be a baby. She didn’t want to be rocked, didn’t want to eat, didn’t want to sleep, didn’t want to lie on her back or on her tummy or her side, or sit in a stroller or a carseat or a playpen or a swing or…you get the idea. I don’t know what she wanted. I don’t think she knew what she wanted. She cried. A lot. I cried. A lot.

But the worst part if all of it–worse than being home alone with a baby who cried for seven hours, worse than being up four times a night for four months, worse than having a baby scream and meltdown every time you tried to feed her–was the guilt I felt. I hated my life. I hated it. I used to joke with my husband that I was running away to Mexico. It was sort of a halfhearted joke, because it took a lot of willpower on many occasions for me not to run away. What happened to cherishing motherhood? What happened to not taking a moment for granted? I just wanted this kid to grow up and go to school already (some days I still want that).

Everyone said, enjoy it now because it goes so fast. No, it didn’t. Every hour was like a day to me. I was trapped and unhappy and going slightly insane. Thank God I had help from friends and relatives. Thank God I went to the doctor and got some meds to help with the anxiety and depression. And thank God nothing lasts forever. Babies grow up. They become little kids who can tell you what they need, who sleep, who eat (sometimes independently), who make you laugh and even say, wow, this day has flown by!

And now I do try to cherish every day, but you know what, maybe that expectation was too lofty. We’re moms, not goddesses. We’re human.

Ever feel like you place unreal expectations on yourself as a mom and then feel guilty that you (a mere mortal) can’t attain them?

A Mommy on the Edge…or at Least the Verge of a Massive Purge…by Heather Snow

Thank you so much for having me today at Peanut Butter on the Keyboard. I’m so excited to be here amongst such fabulous writer and reader mommies! A little about me for those who don’t know me: I’m a sleep-deprived mother of two young boys, known affectionately on social media as The Heir and The Spare. I’m an avid reader…or at least I was before deadlines and diaper duty. Now I’m more of an avid listener—God bless audiobooks! I’m a cat person who somehow just got tricked into agreeing to get a dog this summer (rotten husband…and he said it in front of the boys, who are now over the moon. I would be an evil mommy to say no now…)—oh, and I write historical romance with heroines who put the blue in bluestocking, the men who love them and the mysteries they have to solve.

Now that that’s out of the way, I’d like to applaud the ladies here at PBOTK for their April theme of miscarriage, infertility and special needs. I’ve really enjoyed the open and honest discussions that have been happening this month. I never understood the devastation of these issues until I experienced them myself. Robyn DeHart and I have discussed our histories in the past, and mine is very similar to hers: PCOS, infertility, miscarriage and finally the family we were meant to have through adoption. When I visited the site earlier in the month, I almost switched my topic to be in line with the theme, but it’s been covered so beautifully that I really haven’t got much to add there.

So I decided to stick with the topic that I’d originally planned to talk about because it is a part of my everyday reality that, no matter how hard I try, I just can’t seem to get a handle on. The MESS! Oh. My. Goodness. Who knew two small children could wreak such havoc on what was once a tidy little domicile? Our home was once a place of peace and refuge and…well, tidiness. No longer.

It all started when the Heir was a baby. You see, I waited years and years for him to come along, and in the meantime I read all of the baby and parenting books and magazines, picking up tips on how I was going to give this cherished child every possible advantage I could reasonably give him. One thing I knew I wanted to foster in him was creativity. I wanted him to be an outside-the-box thinker, and one early suggestion was to stimulate his curiosity by giving him a cabinet and drawer in every room (while safely baby-locking the rest, of course) and filling it with things he could tactically explore: you know, crinkly things, plastic things, things of different textures, weights, etc. You were supposed to change it up every once in a while so it never got stale. He loved it of course, and I loved watching him discover new things. What I didn’t love was watching him string said items all through the house.

It’s only gotten worse since then. Yes, I fell for the “Crazy Hat Box!” which became the “Costume Box For Dramatic Play!” and the “Color Your Own Rice For Sensory Play!” (what a mess that was), and “Recycle Your Household Items for Arts and Crafts!” and “Blocks for motor and spatial skills!” and “Legos to strengthen imagination and creativity!” and “Books! Books! Books!”. Dear God, the books. You could fill a children’s library in a small village from our shelves alone… We have rolling drawers full of art supplies, so they are available when creativity strikes. We have a play kitchen, filled with realistic food items. We have a variety of instruments in case the need to express themselves musically cannot be denied. I could probably run a darned good preschool just from the things in my living room alone. Yes, I am that mom.

How did I get so far gone? I’m not a hoarder in my real life…and if I were, I’d certainly hoard something better than blue and purple rice and a bunch of toilet paper rolls waiting to be made into trees when we finally get around to building that cardboard city!
Just to give you an idea of what this has done to our happy home…one day last week, I went to the restroom for a few moments, leaving the two boys (4 ½ and 1 ½) at the breakfast table. I emerged a few minutes later to this.

Oh, and that trail of foam letters from the art box? Strewn not just through the living room, but the hearth room, the dining room, the kitchen, and completely around the staircase. This despite all of my efforts to keep it reined in. And I’ve tried. We have bins. Lots of bins. And cabinets. And rolling drawers. Organized by category and stacked neatly, with a rule that one never gets opened until another is completely put away. (I’ll let you guess how often that works for me).

Some days, it makes it all back in. But some days it doesn’t. And those days start to pile atop each other until I’m pulling my hair out and swearing that the moment my little darlings go to sleep that night, I’m going to pile it all into the mini-van and drop it at the neighborhood daycare center. Or at least lock it all away behind a giant padlock so only I can control access…mwu-ha-ha-ha.
Tell me I’m not alone. Better yet, tell me there is hope. How do those of you with small children keep the mess between the lines without devoting every second of your life to it? Is there a way to balance the desire to foster creativity and the need for a clutter-free space?

Heather Snow is an award winning historical romance author with a degree in Chemistry who discovered she preferred creating chemistry on the page rather than in the lab. She lives in the Midwest with her husband, two rambunctious boys, and one very put upon cat.

The final book in her Veiled Seduction series, SWEET MADNESS, hit shelves April 2, 2013. RT Book Reviews Magazine gives it 4 ½ stars, saying “In this emotional, compassionate romance…the powerful love story will sweep readers away.”
Find out more at http://www.HeatherSnowBooks.com or connect with Heather at http://www.facebook.com/AuthorHeatherSnow , http://www.twitter.com/HeatherSnowRW or at her blog, Heather’s Historical Reader Salon at http://www.heathersnowbooksreadersalon.blogspot.com

Miscarriage: What I Wish I’d Known

Most women don’t expect to have a miscarriage. We prepare for the pregnancy and not the miscarriage. And maybe that’s why, when a miscarriage occurs, we don’t know what to do or where to turn. I suffered a miscarriage in October 2008 and went on to have a successful pregnancy and a healthy baby. This is some of the advice friends gave me as well as realizations I came to on my own.

1. The Doctor Will Not Walk You Through It
One misconception I had when I went through my miscarriage was that the doctor would explain everything and hold my hand and let me cry on her shoulder. That didn’t happen. She did an ultrasound at 12 weeks, didn’t find a heartbeat, and told me the baby was dead. Then she asked if I wanted a D&C or to have a natural miscarriage. I didn’t even know what she was talking about! I was in complete shock.

Thank goodness my husband was with me. He was able to focus on what the doctor was saying and help me make some decisions. I was sent on home with an appointment for a D&C and without any resources to cope. I mean, I got a whole folder about pregnancy at my first appointment and nothing when I had a miscarriage. No one even said “I’m sorry.” It was on to the next patient. Yes, I did end up changing doctors, and I love my new doctor, but I still don’t think the response would have been wildly different. OBs deal with this every day. It’s not a shock to them.

photostock

2. No One Knows What to Say
But that does not mean you don’t have a right to your emotions. I tried very hard not to show how sad I was, even to my friends who had been through miscarriages. I didn’t want to make them uncomfortable by crying. There is such a thing as being too self-involved, even when you’re having a crisis, but it’s okay to go through the experience authentically too.

3. A Miscarriage is a Worth Grieving
I had well-meaning people tell me that my miscarriage was “for the best” or “God’s will” or “Not the same thing as having a real baby die.” My baby might not have been born, but the baby was real. And often it’s for the best that an elderly person dies, and it’s certainly God’s will that we all die at some point, but I don’t think a grieving widow finds those comments very comforting.

What I didn’t understand about miscarriage is that no one talks about it, and while everyone thinks it’s perfectly normal to mourn the loss of a family member, many of those same people will chastise a woman who mourns an unborn baby. I often felt as though I didn’t have the right to mourn my baby. But when I finally embraced the mourning period and allowed myself to go through the steps of grief, I was able to move on.

4. Your Husband Doesn’t Get It
Maybe you are one of the lucky ones who has a husband who understands. Maybe he’s willing to sit and talk about your feelings for hours. That man is special because while most husbands want to comfort you and be there for you, they just don’t deal with grief the same way that women do. They don’t know what to say when you want to talk. They don’t know why you’re still crying a month later. Rely on your friends or relatives, a support group (real or online), or a good therapist. Your husband can’t be everything you need, and that doesn’t make him a bad husband. It makes him human.

5. It Doesn’t Always Go Smoothly, So Be Proactive
Miscarriages can be accompanied by medical complications. When the doctor confirms the miscarriage he or she will throw a lot of info at you about what to watch out for. But even if you don’t have these exact symptoms, that doesn’t mean everything is fine. If something doesn’t seem right to you, speak up and see the doctor. Push for more tests or another ultrasound.

After my D&C the healing process did not proceed as the doctor said it would. Every time I called her office, I was told I was fine and that was normal. Finally I made the doctor see me and perform an ultrasound. This was almost two months after my D&C. The ultrasound showed not all of the tissue had been removed. I had to have a second D&C. How much anguish and worry might have been avoided if I had been proactive and pushed my OB to do an exam earlier? Do not think the doctor always knows best. Trust your own instincts.

If you’ve been through a miscarriage, what do you wish you’d known?

Bring a Book Saturday–Boo’s Dinosaur

It seems like just yesterday Baby Galen could not sit still while I read a picture book. Actually, that was yesterday. But once in a while she can sit still, and now that she is “a big girl” who constantly tells me, “I’m big, Mommy. I’m big. Right, Mommy?” she wants to read Big Kid Books. She insisted on taking Beezus and Ramona home from the library. Yeah. That didn’t go over so well. But we also accidentally stumbled upon a book by Betsy Byars titled Boo’s Dinosaur.

Betsy Byars usually writes books geared for late elementary school/early middle school, but this book is perfect for a 3 or 4 year old with an imagination. It has glorious pictures on every page and a cute little protagonist and her put-upon older brother. We have read it again and again. And we just ordered another in the series, Boo’s Surprise.

If you’re looking for something with chapters that is simple and easy for kids to understand, this would make a great before-bed read.

Crappy Book Winner

Thank you so much to everyone who stopped by to comment on Amber Dusick’s post and also thank you to Amber for taking the time to visit us.

The randomly chosen winner of Amber Dusick’s novel Parenting: Illustrated with Crappy Pictures is Kim! Check your inbox, Kim.

If you didn’t win, don’t forget the book is available for pre-order now and will be on sale March 26!

A short blog to go with the giveaway post.

I once read that children have behavioral ups and downs every six months. Six months of a happy, easy child will be followed by six months or a cranky, difficult, unhappy child. The writer speculated it had something to do with growth and development. I feel like Baby Galen must grow more than other kids because she usually follows one week of easygoing behavior with three weeks of difficult behavior.

For some reason, I am always surprised when the difficult behavior returns. I quickly get used to the easygoing Baby Galen. But just as soon as I think, I kind of like this parenting thing, her head starts spinning around again.

Bottom line? Parenting is hard. But like anything else that’s tough, the rewards make the hard work worth it.

I Wrote a Book With Two Kids At Home by Amber Dusick (from Crappy Pictures!)

I wrote a book with two little kids at home and I survived. Barely.

This is how I did it.

Late at night, fueled by pints of ice cream. The kids were asleep so the only distraction I had was Crappy Cat stepping on my keyboard. He loves the delete key and is super skilled at pressing it.

Of course since the kids were asleep it technically meant that I was supposed to be asleep too. Which I wasn’t. Which meant I was tired. Always.

I did learn a few very important things along the way though.

1. Backing up a manuscript isn’t a good idea. It isn’t a great idea. It isn’t an idea at all. It is a requirement. It must be done. It should be #1 in “book writing 101″ classes. (Maybe it already is. I don’t know, I never took that class. Is there a class?) Anyway, I lost a handful of pages before I learned this lesson. Those pages that I lost were the best, most funniest thing I have ever written and had I backed them up I’d be rich and famous and living in a mansion with a hot tub in every room. Instead, I don’t have a mansion or even a single hot tub. See? Not backing up will ruin your life.

2. Haagen-Dazs® chocolate ice cream is too darn hard. It doesn’t ever seem to melt. You have to leave that one out for a good 20 minutes before digging in. Which is basically impossible to do so I stopped buying it. Ben & Jerry’s chocolate chip cookie dough and half baked are also way too distracting to eat while writing. You spend too much time digging for the little dough or brownie nuggets. Stick with the simple flavors like chocolate, strawberry and mint chip. Those are writing-friendly flavors. I told you these were important things. You’re welcome.

3. Did I say I learned “a few” things? I should change that to “a couple” things. Whatever. You know what I mean.

Honestly, I can’t remember much.

I do remember telling myself that “I will never, ever, ever do this again” but I can’t for the life of me remember why I would feel that way. It wasn’t so bad. Was it?

I should probably try it again just to make sure.

Or maybe this is just an excuse to eat ice cream.

Amber Dusick’s novel Parenting: Illustrated with Crappy Pictures is available for pre-order now and will be on sale March 26!
Want a copy? One person who comments today will win a copy, courtesy of the PBKMoms!

You can find Amber Dusick blogging at Parenting. Illustrated with Crappy Pictures.

In Praise of Timers

Recently I posted about my daughter’s love of Cinderella and all things princess. That obsession hasn’t really abated. I wish I had her enthusiasm for the topic, but alas, I do not. Maybe if she would let me vary the plot once in a while, but she sticks stubbornly to the script.

This is the exchange between Ophelia, the naughty princess (a Lego) and Cinderella.
Cinderella: Hi, my name is Cinderella.
Ophelia: I don’t think princesses. Go away.
Cinderella: Waaaa!
Ophelia’s Mom (a Little People): Ophelia, you have to be nice. Go to time out and apologize.
Ophelia: I’m sorry. Will you be my friend?
Cinderella: Yes. (hug, hug, hug)

Over and over and over.

Sometimes I suggest Ophelia and Cinderella or Belle or Tiana go to a ball or on a picnic or something like that, but once they get there, it’s the same script. So here’s what I’ve done to keep my sanity. I agree to play with her for a set amount of time—say, 20 minutes. I set the timer and play whatever she wants for 20 minutes. Sometimes she just wants me to sit there with her while she plays. Sometimes I have to play all the characters. The main rule is that she gets to lead the play and I have to give her 100% of my attention. I don’t answer the phone, or check email, or pick up toys. I play.

Then the timer goes off and I’m free—I mean, I have a little time to do something I need to do. Baby Galen has embraced the timer. She’ll say, “Mama, come play! Get the timer.”

Do you have any suggestions for balancing play time and the other mom chores?

One of THOSE Moms

I am not one of those moms. At least, I don’t think so. I know a few of us have written about this before, but it’s come up again for me, so I’m revisiting.

My daughter’s day school is in a very affluent neighborhood. A lot of the parents are very, very wealthy. They send their kids to this school until the children are three and can enter the more prestigious private pre-schools in the area. These require interviews and teacher recommendations, etc. You get the idea.

We are not rich. We’re not poor. We do okay. But we’re not rich. Baby Galen is going to public school—a good public school, but a public school. She goes to the day school not because my nanny needs off a couple days a week or so that I can work with my personal trainer (don’t have either one!) but so I can write books and blogs and all that.

Friends–NOT the friend in question

I grew up with friends who were both wealthy and closer to the other extreme. I’m not impressed by wealth, and these moms are cordial to me and we do the chitchat thing at pick-up and drop-off. But lately my daughter has become friends with the daughter of a mom from the wealthy clique. Every day she begs me to invite this little girl over. These kids are barely three. They don’t go to play dates without parents yet, and I don’t really know this mom. But Baby Galen talks about this little girl all the time. They play “princesses” and “run-away-from-the-bad-guy” together.

Another friend–NOT the new one, though

What should I do? Ask the mom if she wants to do a play date? Keep putting Baby Galen off? She has plenty of other friends, whose moms are my friends or whose moms have more in common with me. Help! Why do I feel like I’m in high school and have to ask some mom to the Prom?

Cinderella

Like many girls her age (3), Baby Galen has discovered the Disney princesses. She loves them all, but mostly she loves Cinderella. It’s because Cinderella wears blue, which is Baby G’s favorite color. She even says she likes light blue now, whereas dark blue used to be her favorite.

When her girl friends come over, they play dress up and princesses, but when it’s just the two of us, I am conscripted to play. I don’t mind playing for a little while. And in the past, 20 minutes was enough for her.

But suddenly it seems her attention span is longer and her imaginary scenarios more developed, and she wants me to play for hours. Moms, I don’t know about you, but I have laundry, cooking, dishes, and a book to write. I cannot do anything for hours.

And so I am constantly having to say, “No, I can’t go to the ball right now. I have to _________ (insert task here).”

And then I remember one of my favorite Steven Curtis Chapman songs, “Cinderella.” I never listen to it because it always makes me cry. It’s a good song to think about when I’m being asked to yet another ball, because this time in my daughter’s life won’t last forever.

She’s pulling at me
Saying “Dad, I need you

There’s a ball at the castle
And I’ve been invited
And I need to practice my dancing
Oh, please, Daddy, please?”

So I will dance with Cinderella
While she is here in my arms
‘Cause I know something the prince never knew
Oh, I will dance with Cinderella
I don’t want to miss even one song
‘Cause all too soon the clock will strike midnight
And she’ll be gone…

How do you remember to take time out to dance with your Cinderella or Prince Charming?