I have the worst head cold.
I am writing my memoir. To read chapter 1 click here. (3 minute read)
The following is chapter 13, a scene that resides prominently in my head. I am not releasing my chapters in order. There are different parts to my story that rise up to my consciousness at random times, so I edit and re-write without rhyme or reason. If you like the chapters, perhaps when my book is finished, you will want to read it in its entirety. By then, the story will be more consecutive (I hope). 🙂
Although this story is true and happened to me, I decided to continue writing in the third person. Some readers commented they like it, while others preferred a switch to the first person. I appreciate the feedback (thank you!) but realized after re-writing chapter 1 into the first person, it did not sound right. There is a switch to the first person later in the story, but you will have to wait to find out why, and when.
Chapter 13 is also a 3 minute read. Happy reading!
Yesterday I dropped a guinea pig.
In my defense, it was his fault. Why is he squirming around in my arms when I’m snuggling him?
A little 9 year old girl who was on my daughter’s all star team during last year’s baseball season got sick in April.
Today, my own 10 year old daughter will attend her wake. My daughter and her friend, another fellow ball player from the same team, will visit a very sad place and try to understand the magnitude of what it means when a child dies.
A child just like they are.
People deal with grief in different ways. There is no right or wrong way, and no one has the right to force their view on how to deal with personal grief on someone else.
We are faced with a situation right now where a family member is out of country and another family member, living here, is struggling with a deadly illness. She is in the advanced stages and there is no chance to overcome, or beat the illness.
Everyone knows this.
I admit that I am not the most patient person in the world.
There, I said it. Now the internet knows.
Look, I get it that when a kid is sick and misses a week of school, the prospect of going back is a little overwhelming. My younger one has a bit of performance anxiety under normal circumstances, never mind after a week of absence. I get it.
But here’s the thing.
I have noticed something about this parenting gig that is becoming more pronounced over the years:
Every milestone a kid accomplishes is a new experience for us parents as well.
It’s been almost 13 years I’ve been a mom, so it’s not like I’m a novice or anything.