What else is there to say?  I have had the wonderful opportunity to dive headfirst into the writing community and experience, for at least three days, a constant surge of living, breathing and writing about the craft.  I absolutely loved it.  I want to first give a big wonderful hug to the ladies who have supported, read, shared, friended, commented.  Check these out;

literarylegs.blogspot.com
http://j.mp/gwCQZ7  to read Meg Waite Clayton's article just published on the Huffington Post!!! Her next novel out very soon; The Four Ms. Bradwells. 
Shewrites.com and my page followers
dawnbrazil.blogspot.com
cathykozak.com
thedepartingtext.blogspot.com
demolishingtheblock.blogspot.com

Check them all out!! If I forgot anyone please send!  I also met some wonderful people at the conference and along with my on-line friends, I look forward to connecting with others locally! 

Today was back to the grind, literally.  My creative flow came to a screeching halt as quickly as I turned on the computer at work and saw 167 emails waiting.  I digress.

The Conference Lessons Learned Part I:
I arrived home on Sunday after a wonderful brunch and some "Words to Write By" at the conference.  I actually had the house all to myself after my kids and husband had left Saturday morning for a hockey tournament in Prescott.  Imagine that, 9 years it has been since I have been in the house alone.  Believe, me I am not rushing that.  I missed the comotion but I had the TV to myself!  Yes, I should have been writing but my God, I had written all day and again, the Doritos and Three Stooges just sounded really good at about 6:30 Saturday night. 

After K.L Cook's class ( I blogged about that previously and again, what a class!  Entitled, "Let's Misbehave"), I elected to sit in with Renee Simms who would discuss "Flair in Fiction; What Poets and Stylists Teach Us".  We discussed prose (which is anything not poetry) and how writers of prose can extract lessons from poetry to increase the readability and flow of the work.  I completely agree with this.  As mentioned earlier I have discovered a new dimension to my writing and reading by examining poetry. 

We were given a black and white photo of a Brookly family from 1966 taken by Diane Arbus. 

We were then asked to describe the photo in the manner of C.K. Williams.  We were given two C.K. Williams poems, The Dance and Shame.  It would be beneficial to google these two works to get a sense of the exercise.  Very challenging task.  She wanted us to use more complicated language, that did not rely too much on direct information but rather a more intuitive method to interpret our perception of the photo. 

Although I read my interpretation I have included a variation of the first sentence here.  I did not care much for the ending and we had a whole 5 minutes to do this:

Joleen and Tony are the nucleus that link Anna and Leo to life.  A thin life hanging by a gossamer thread of bare cabinets, Lucky Strikes and brawling fights when mommy and daddy disagree about green money, yellow beer and fancy girls with red lips....

My voice on this began more as a 3rd person omniscient then trasitioned to the children.  At least that was my attempt.  Difficult!!!

Our next exercise in the same class was now to identify a "Group" that a person could belong to.  Using the "we", we were directed to give an opening to a story.  Our samples included, St. Lucy's Home for Girls Raised by Wolves (Karen Russell,) Farewell to Arms (Hemingway) and Their Eyes Were Watching God (Zora Neale Hurston).  Here was my take, again I read aloud;

We sidled in tight formation through the alley.  The moon hung full and heavy above and with our heads cantered to the side, we filtered the night noise.  The third guy back stumbled and hit a trash can, temporarily halting our prosession against the wall.  Gunshots slapped the curtain of night hard and forceful.  I curled my finger around the trigger and all at once we ran forward and fast whooping our own variations of "gonna get those fuckers, show 'em they aint takin us down like that!"

We were Superman.   Our chests like iron but skin bare and not quite man-like, arms sinuey and gangly as we ran wildy, a blur of feet and gravel.  Every muscle engaged as the bullets found their mark, leaving each of us to stop short, life at fourteen. 

Again, sometimes in workshop-my experiences as a cop play out on paper.  This was a great exercise.  I recommend the readings prior to show why I wrote it this way.

Part II will be Wednesday and I will share my notes on "Got Plot" with Victor LaValle and "Meeting the Stranger" with Naeem Murr.  Great day!!

Thanks for Reading!!  Keep Writing!!

Today is Saturday, March 5:
Friday, March 4, was the first real day of the conference and I will get right down to it.  I was exhausted after a full day of tapping the creative core!!  I will tell you one thing; you need cerebral stamina to keep up.  By 5:30 pm, I was cashed out.  I literally wanted to grab a bag of Doritos and watch re-runs of the Three Stooges..  But oh, what glorious, creative fun!

After the opening remarks which although the writing was well done, the topic of Invisible Borders, was too politically sided for my preference.  I listened through the 50 minute reading by a very well known writer and was able to at least extract his rythym, use of language and prose and leave behind that I disagreed with most if not all of what he said.  But again, to be a writer. 

Now, just imagine a very large meeting hall in a very old building, 1839 first Tempe Normal School, wall to wall with history and great sound for readings and most attendees coming in by 9:00 for the opening remarks for the day, a little coffee and off to your selected class.  I again, although invited to observe the Master's Class in Non-Fiction, it was limited seating and strictly adhered to, so I went to a class by Shannon Cain who was discussing How to Kill a Cliche.  We had the most perfect venue, outdoors, golden sunshine and minus the bit of construction noise nearby, we had a great time.  She was an enthusiastic instructor and guided us through how cliches work their way into our writing.  We were given an exercise; Your mission is to write in one-word syllables, two sentences max, a snipit revealing to the reader a man is crying.  Wow... 

"With the grip of her hand, she lent to him the chance to fall to her.  A tear came and his breath, cold in the air, freed him for the first time."

That was my take on it and I did read it aloud.  A few others read.  Another lesson about Workshop, it is work, you should go in with both feet, anxious to participate, hear your own voice, find your own voice.  I am learning more about the Art and Craft of Writing than I ever thought I would. 

Next Workshop I chose: Reading Like a Writer by K.L. Cook  call me Ken..
Loved it!!  I would take all classes from this man.  I loved his reading aloud, his breath accentuated the light feather of "th", "v" and "f".  His passion, knowledge of text, historical work he pulls from and his ability to show the lay person like myself, what we need to see, was masterful.  I wished I had another hour with him in this session.  He showed for us the work of Steinbeck and how we can learn from his penning, Cannery Row.  I have never read Steinbeck I am sad to say, however it does not mean I cannot.  Just find time!!

The exercise involved reading and understanding 1st, 2nd 3rd person and 3rd person omniscient which I can say I did know all of those terms via other workshopping I have done.  I was not completely in the dark.  Thank God.  I am also finding myself in the company of some very intelligent writers who themselves are participants.. their readings are beautifully done and they are "getting it".  Some are published, some working on pieces..   The notes in my journal for this class are a scratchy mess and in bold letters I finally relented; "I am lost!!!  Going too fast!"  I did not give up but by the time 4 minutes (yes, 4 minutes to get a piece together..) I had nothing to read..

After lunch I attended a panel discussion with Gretel Erlich and Cynthia Hogue, two distinctly different writers but yet very eloquent in their work.  One a memoirist and one a poet.  I have also learned I have a new affection for poetry.  It is not just the sing songy, rhyming poetry you would assume.  It transcends narrative into a song and reads like a very intuitive short story in some cases.  Not at all choppy or predictable.  I earned a new respect for the poet and what fiction or non-fiction has to learn from poetry.  This exchange was dynamic and fluid, engaging and yes, I spoke up again.  I was feeling more and more at home.

I chose Writers in Conversation with Victor LaValle, Naeem Murr and Antonya Nelson.  This was held inside the Virginia Piper's House, you know the old wood floors, narrow doorways that cocoon you and the over sized furniture just begging for you to put your feet up, read-write. 

The opening by the very young MFA student with grown up features including a beard, glasses and worn, brown dress shoes, left us all a bit off when he introduced each writer and then turned it immediately to us for questions.  We sat silent.  We needed to hear from them first in order to ask them to share with us their methods on the craft.  So Antonya saved the day by asking her fellow writers a question on guilty pleasures.  What do you read as a writer.  That saved the day and the hour discussion flowed much more smoothly.

Time and Place with Gretel Erlich, Andrea Barrett and Jem Poster was next and this was held in the larger meeting room.  This was the panels' take on setting place and time in your story and the value from doing it well.  Some questions were taken from the audience and this last class concluded my day.  Whew!! I need a glass of wine..  yes, I did... two..

I am now midway through Saturday as I write this and I had the wonderful opportunity to workshop with K.L. Cook again and actually completed a work, although there was not enough time to read.  I finished it up with a couple of extra minutes and like it enough to at least put it here to conclude this post.  First, the exercise today was to write an "apology that was not really an apology". (Read: Tony Hoagland, Lucky and This Is Just to Say by William Carlos Williams).
The class was titled "Let's Misbehave".  It is designed to open for the writer an opportunity to lend in some cases, much needed "meaness" to our characters.  If our characters are lying flat for us, throw another rock at them and then some more as Hoagland says.  Then rescue them from the tree.  We had 4 minutes.  Again, I ran out of time initially but finished it about 1 minute later.  I did not read this one aloud today:

I pinched the sliver cuffs tight around her wrists and knew the cramped backseat would lend little room for relief.  The heat in the car was stifling but I turned the dial to high, an attempt to force some relief past the plexiglass shield dividing the front and rear seats.
I am sorry for the lack of comfort.  I apologize for your suffering, back there in the heat,
in August,
in Arizona
4:26 p.m. on this Tuesday
and you ask again, "Am I really going to jail?  That's fucked up."

But Graciella, your daughter died today. She died so you could climb back into bed. Tired after your night's foray-the stink of men and pot thick in your clothes and hair. 
Exhausted from taking your own mother to work just before dawn this morning. 
Graciella died while she cried locked tight in her car seat. 
Right where you left her. 

Yes, I am taking a direct experience in my work as a cop and using them quite often in this workshop.  I did two more times today..Parental indifference..

Gotta get back to the readings and an afternoon filled with more workshopping!!  Recommendations;  Read, read, read.  Read as much as you can.  Read really good writing, read poetry, somewhere quiet.  Not a commercial fiction but something, anything classic.  I have to do more of that.  Participate, force yourself to read something aloud.  Let your heart beat right out of your chest in the process, your words trip and stammer just before you finish and your lips tremble a little.  A natural high.

More later. 

I am well into the conference now and just found the perfect wi-fi spot as an ASU guest user.  I am on lunch break.  I have one hour to eat and attempt to blog about a wonderful evening at the welcome reception at the DNRS Writer's Conference at ASU in Tempe, Arizona!!  What an experience and a class act. 

First let me start out by saying I predicted something earlier in my blog as I anxiously turned the days of the week leading up to the conference over in my head; would I make it?  Would I actually be able to go, freely and without distraction to a 3-day conference where I may at times not be home until after 9 or 10 at night?? Really? 
Well my friends, at 4:07 am on the morning of the first day, our youngest son woke with fever.  My husband took his place as the sacraficial parent to stay home while I trudged off to a full day of work and an evening among writers and readers.  Much to my dismay, as I sat in a contract bid pre-conference, trapped by heat and 40 people firing questions to me about what I expected from the bidders, I began receiving texts my husband was on the way to the hospital with our son. 
Our youngest has ARPKD/CHF and was transplanted 3 years ago today to be exact.  So on the day before his 3 year anniversary of his transplant, he is carted off to the ER with high fever.  This was only after struggling to break the fever into the late morning.  I left the contract meeting asap and headed to the hospital.  Thankfully and as predicted, this was a routine measure due to his transplant and we were aware of that.  He has croup (learned today after recognizing "the bark") but when you have a new kidney, you  must protect it, at every cost including convenience.. the ER visit is not new to us, we were just praying he would not be admitted. 

Whew.. finally later in the day as I left work, boarded the train headed for the ASU campus, I relaxed.  The frustration was now in my dear husband's lap as he waited, and waited and yes, waited for tests, reports, IV fluids and antibiotics just a precaution.  I started to loosen the guilty pull on my internal "mommy hard wiring".  The parent child bond is as tight and as predominate in my core as breathing is natural to most people.  I had to fight this drive to flee and return to my babie's side that was really just being overplayed in my head.  Guilt is an incredible mediator...  What allowed me to let stay on that train headed for ASU were the reinforcing words from my hubby, "Hey, he's fine.. we should be home soon.  Go to the conference.."

I made it..

I walked the campus in the direction I knew Old Main sat and passed the glorious Virginia Piper Writer's Studio on the way.  Its solid bungalow style porch, invites you in to have a seat in the overly stuffed chairs, take a stroll through the rooms with their narrow doorways and enjoy the creaking of floorboards that have welcomed many a writer before. 

I came upon the impressive stair leading to the second floor of Old Main and novelled at the two or three conference participants snapping quick pictures of a mocking bird calling out from a scrawl of dead tree branches.  Half a dozen other attendees seated around the massive fountain just outside, hunched eagerly over their conference materials.  The night could not have been better for an opening reception.  The sun was just setting and the song of the fountain and soft chatter of passerby lended an inspirational mood and after checking in, I broke out the journal. 

Once inside, we were met by friendly staff and faculty who greeted each attendee with a choice to either sit at any of the marked eight-top tables or, "if you would like, you may sit at one particular table with an author of your choice."  How grand!  "Who would you like to sit with?" she asked, clipboard in hand with names and numbers listed in neat rows.  "Well, I am working on non-fiction memoir"  "Well then, you may elect to sit with Gretel Erlich, she is here at table 12"  How convenient.  Among the 22 or so tables, table 12 was to my left. 

This was like a first date.  I even carefully chose my garb.. Dark jeans, low at the waist, my favorite comfortable hiking boots, a t-shirt with a tasteful, pink long sleeve polo, untucked.  A little shabby chick or just mid forties comfortable.. Whatever.. it was better than wearing my police uniform work pants, a black t-shirt and my army style black work boots..

The table and room filled quickly and we soon went around the table with greetings including, "wherefroms and whatareyouworkingons" and besides all working on non-fiction, we were from varying areas.  One all the way from Virginia!!  Wonderful, I was born there.  We all chatted, attempting to hear ourselves and each other over the mix of similar conversation in the room.  So far the first date was going well and I felt remarkably comfortable, open and as usual, very talkative. 

The welcome remarks came from Peter Turchi and set the stage for the atmosphere I anxiously awaited.  Imagine, a room filled to the brim; about 185 in all, women outnumbering men 3/1 and varying age ranges from maybe 25 to 65, all here in various transitions in their craft of writing.  A defying struggle to do what many and most cannot: take a person somewhere they have never been through the magic of words. 

Dinner was served and the wine, yes Wine, flowed.  Gretel, a gritty, down to earth, welcoming soul, put it perfectly when our young server inquired,
"More wine?"
"More wine?  I am writer, of course, more wine!" 
We had a great laugh after that as we chatted the dinner time away with sharing of stories, travels and challenges to get the written word to transcend into reality.  It was wonderful. 

Readings followed dinner.  Lovely.  Each author was introduced by MFA students and represented the school and MFA program well.  And to think I say all this as a University of Arizona graduate!!! Yes, I am a Wildcat, on Sparky territory.............. shhhhhh

The evening ended with handshakes, nods of heads, wine in the blood and motivation in the bones.  Gretel was gracious enough to open her Master's Class to me however I had not pre-registered.  We promised to meet and chat more later. 

I met wonderful people, survived an almost missed opportunity and battled the guilt for wanting to take a moment to go my selfish way.  I took the train home and recalled what I learned and joyfully wrapped my arms around my family, happy to say;

"You know what, for a first date, this was WONDERFUL!!" 
More tomorrow!

Disclaimer:
Please be kind on my typos, glaring errors or any obvious mistakes in this post.. It is now 12:05 pm.  I am late, have my sandwich next to me, untouched and I am in a hurry!! Don't want to miss too much!!!

Well, only a couple of days to go and as you can see, I have been "playing" with my blog.  I have literally been learning as I go and I do hope I have not frustrated anyone else as much as I have frustrated myself. 

I have been stealing some moments away to search my "writer within" and have been so overwhelmed with school, work, home and my blog template, my creative side has been supressed.  I will be taking a moment or two to just relax, open a good book (just got another yesterday....Flannery O'Connor) and breathe...

I have this fear something may happen and mommy duties will call me away from my time at the conference.  Keep your fingers crossed!!! 

I am still learning and am working on updating my look here.  Please be patient!  Getting ready for the Writer's Conference!!

In just a few days I will be attending the Desert Nights Rising Stars Writer's Conference in Tempe, Arizona.  I am both excited and apprehensive.  It will be quite an adventure and one I have anticipated since my early registration back in October.  I have never attended a writers conference and am taking advantage of this local opportunity since I will not be in New York any time soon (the mecca for all things "writerly").  I am a novice in the writing world and will be searching out others in my position as well as those already published for guidance.  Intimidating!!!  Wow, but inspired and willing to learn!!

So, I am hopeful, intrigued, open and encouraged (and yes, just a little intimidated...).  I will be blogging about my experience and anyone with their own personal experience at their first conference, feel free to share! 

Thursday, March 3, is the registration and welcome banquet.  We lead in to full days on Friday and Saturday, then a half day on Sunday. 

Thank you again to everyone who has read this short story.  It is a living document and is constantly in revision.  I do not believe any piece of writing is ever really finished until it is finally released from your white knuckle grasp and carted away only to be returned to you over and over in your sleep.  It can always be better and as long as I am my own worst critic, I guess that is not so bad. 

Went to work today only briefly.  Believing I had meetings and that today was Thursday, I learned by 10:00 a.m. that I was in a fog.  It must be the fact that I have not had much sleep and came down with a bit of a cold.  I came home, crawled into some sweat pants and proceded to lay supine watching reruns of SNL.  Never really dozed off but eventually pulled myself together, picked up the kids and got them to music class.  Now catching up on homework and thought I would at least produce something today besides a lot of mucus.  Thank you for reading!  Here is the second to last post of Weight of a Life.... and as always, your friendship and comments are welcome.  Like most bloggers, I anticipate each visit with the hopes of finding another follower.. (smile... shrug...)

Thank you for reading, joining and checking in.  I have kept the excerpts fairly short but posting a new one every couple of days.  I have 2 to go for this story and plan on posting new material very soon.  Thank you for your interest!!

First, thank you for reading and this is another excerpt from Weight of a Life.  Please see previous posts for full story.

Here is a second excerpt from "The Weight of a Life".  Please see the post before this to catch up. 

Please take a moment to read the following post.  It is a snapshot of my short story, "Weight of a Life".  I have yet to really dive into my family's internal struggle with our son's disease, ARPKD/CHF.  Some of you may have visited recently hoping to find more information and hopefully you have returned.  It takes time of course to write of things that touch a dense, sensitive spot inside.  Our son's illness; a chronic kidney disease that also effects his liver, has taken us on a journey we never imagined we would take.  I wish I had only overflowing dishwashers, dead car batteries or even stitches to worry about.  I worry about very 'heavy' things every day, most just don't see it.  I keep my resources close by and our family is very resilient. 
The pain more than anything, is the realization there are children who have no one to fight life's battles with them.  The first in line for the assignment should always be the parent, so you would think. I have seen too often children treated as inconveniences and distractions in my line of work.

Be a purposeful mother. 

Please leave a comment or critique.  I will be posting a couple of paragraphs at a time and look forward to your input. 

My #1 son said after school one day:

"Mom. You would not believe what one of the kids in my class said today!" Son #1 said to me as he swung his checkered back pack over his shoulder, eyebrows raised in two lower case 'n' shapes. 

"What?"

"The 'S' word..."

"Which one?"

Please note.. the 'S' words in our house are not the standard version.  They include S*utup and S*upid.  These are our 'S' words. 

My son diliberated on how best to describe and dictate this particular 'S' word without actually saying it and his wheels began to turn in rapid succession.  Thinking, imagining, gesturing..

He stated the word, "Shut" then pointed directly with one finger toward the sky. 

"Ohhh." I say.  "That word.  Wow, who'd the kid say that to and what happened?"

He began to tell me with much detail the when and why this word was announced by his 9 year old classmate and in what context.  This subject may not register as jaw dropping conversation for most parents but I can guarantee you one thing, on some of the city streets I have worked as a cop, these two words render significant impact. 
Troubling as it may seem, the average person would be shocked how much this dialouge from parent to parent or parent to child alter a child's perception of the world and how they fit in it.  A child who hears these two words in my line of work are usually hearing them in a descriptive fashion to supply much needed emphasis to something they are or are doing.  This type of descriptive slap in the face is very hard to witness when standing in the middle of someone's living room, unannounced in most cases and carrying the confinement possibilities of criminal code in your pocket.

I do not have a problem now nor ever speaking up during public exchanges while on duty and these words are spoken quite often in my line of work.  I figure the least I can do is to object in the presence of others that while I am overseeing these activities on this call, those words will not be used to describe anyone.

Even in my most frustrating moments as a police officer, including one where a person in the back of my car screamed the 'C' word in my right ear about 1,239 times while I filled out paperwork, the most heard from me was "Would you BE QUIET!!!" (very loudly, I must add).  After about 2 of those attempts which were actually futile, I just laughed.

I will never call nor state the 'S' words to my children.  The lack of respect, degrading connotation and disregard for a person associated with those words are just.... well... they're just....... stu.... DUMB!

Now, I will be quiet........

Fall is my absolute favorite time of the year.  By the time October arrives in Arizona, we have witnessed a few more days out of triple digits and have begun to re-explore the neighborhood just in time for Halloween tricks and treats.  As the month creeps on, neighbors will prep pool toys for their winter slumber, lawn chairs will find their way out from fenced backyards and the summer zombies will creep from the air conditioned comfort of the indoors.

One particular afternoon a couple of years ago, a neighbor came to visit.  Her stride, slumped and dragging, carried with it a sense of toil and labor.  Her son gleefully toddled ahead of her sputtering two-year old lingo in the direction of my boys who appeared to be caught up in the grass with a bug or something...

"Hey, pull up a chair.  What's going on?" 

It was clear as I said this, there was indeed something going on….  I am of course going to be extremely general here in my description of this particular person but let me just say, since she became a mother, she did not seem to be mastering the stamina necessary to multi-task.    

I would like you to imagine a brief pause here as she maneuvered around several toys, bikes, legos, chalk and God knows what else had been scattered over the drive.  Finally she landed in the chair next to me.

“Pppphhhhhhhhhhhh..”  A long escape of air left her lungs through her pursed lips.  Clearly, her white flag was up and waving. 

"Wow.. tired?"  I said as I watched my youngest begin working on taking his pants down.........

"Hey, knock that off!  Go use the bathroom in the house!"

Yes, the bathroom is sometimes outside at our house…. I love having boys but their timing and understanding of convenience and appropriateness can be challenging to manage. 

Little chuckle.  Nice timing kid. 

Shortly after the pants episode, she finally spoke.

"How do you.... do you get any help from Bob? 

(let's just call my dh, Bob-shall we?),

…..you know, with the kids, or house?"

It’s clear she was still banking on the dreamer package to the mommy club..  The vision of the black and white portrait of the perfectly round belly draped with sheer linen and holding the blooming pink orchid had become a cavernous stretch mark...  Oh.. poor dear. 

"Little overwhelmed, huh?"

Duh.. I couldn’t figure that out. This is the same person who after having child number 2 a year later got a babysitter once a week so she could do laundry... no... I am not kidding.

I tried offering a little insight, "Well..... Bob primarily takes care of the outside of the house.  I do the inside.”

Bob would speak up here; noting that my version of clean is a bit different from his.  Let us just say, I am an awesome re-arranger and NEAT. 


“...And when it comes to who has to clear several calendars in order to go the dentist?  Well, that would be me.  And let’s see… who has to pack for 3 people instead of 1 when we go on vacation?  Uhhhh…. me...And finally, who eats dinner standing up more nights than not? yea…me."

Now, keep in mind, my dear hubby, Bob-is a fan-TAS-tic daddy.  He organizes after dinner wrestle time, gives hiccup inducing horse bites and has no problem using daddy spit to clean faces.  Daddy adores his boys and they love him unconditionally.  But we agree on this; mommy is the primary care taker. 

Mommy is still one the who does the majority of the childrearing, the finding of misplaced favorite monkeys, replacer of ripped socks, child version encyclopedia to the difference between bumble bees and wasps and why the dog food is not as good to eat as you would think.  

I informed my somewhat weary neighbor, much to her paralyzed dismay, that she is the one who has to hold down the fort.  Fathers have become more like daddies since I was a kid and they do far more now than they ever have.  Still, the "mommy" is the one the kids seek out when knees are scraped, pants are pooped or food is spilled. 

Maybe it's the cop in me.  I was trained to multi-task and yes, it comes in very handy when juggling the household.  You have no idea how many varied tasks are involved with just a traffic stop. 

Of course I can run this household but my badge wielding at work does not have the same compliance magic at home. 

It may not be glamorous, no one will applaud or adorn you with accolades for snotty nose blowing assistance, but that is just fine by me.  I love every bit of it and even though I may misplace things, throw a dinner together with only three ingredients and mix my kids’ names up, my children hold me to life and I embrace my part in their day with compassion, determination and a little bit of silliness. 

What my neighbor was really looking for was another mother to join in her misery.  To march to her beat of "I need a break and you need to get in here and assume the role while I take a hot bath, go get my hair done, take a nap, have drinks with the girls, go to the bathroom without someone following me and asking me why does the dog like birthday cake?”

Well, excuse me if I don’t join in.  What I say instead is,

“Put your big girl panties on and get on with it!”

Now, if only I could remember where I put mine. 

As mentioned, I am new to this and in my quirky gotta get it just right way, I am making some small little adjustments to my page.  I have a post I am working on, "Eating Dinner Standing Up".  I should be finished tonight.  For now, I am wanting to get the blog look just right and I will eventually stop otherwise I will drive myself crazy.  It is about content not how nice it looks right?

That's what I say now since approaching mid 40's.................. but I digress..

Oh, how I toil..

Centurion: A commanding leader in the Roman Army guiding the foot soldiers in the battlefield. 

This describes the mother.  I am just begining my journey into the bloggosphere, so bare with me.  I have no previous experience and am only capable of writing in fits and starts.  I do however aspire to document in some form or other my experience in raising two wonderful boys, holding a household and a career oriented husband together all while working full time as a member of a very large police department.  Thus the title. 

I work in my personal and professional life as a champion of children; a police officer by day and a mother full time.  I maintain the household in working order, with bills paid, dog fed, homework done, husband happy and suffer very few "casualties" as my former leaders many centuries ago.  As Primus Pilus, I lead my foot soldiers and carry their burden into battle, guide them in the ways of the world and as a further challenge and at times very dibilitating, I manage a child with kidney disease.  Yes, one of my two wonderful children was born with Autosomal Recessive Polycistic Kidney Disease/Chronic Hepatic Fibrosis (ARPKD/CHF).

My experience as a police officer has offered me one thing most mothers may not witness, an opportunity to see mothering at its best and worst.  The headlines of parental indifference are easy to recognize and offer a bit of a pull into the seedy world of sub-culture we wish to disassociate.  They are the children who have no champion. 

If anything is gained from checking in with this blog it is to recognize and offer comment to your experiences as a Mother Centurion.  You must recognize you are a leader to your children.  You have a narrow window of opportunity to garner your child's respect.  You will forever have their attention.  Losing the respect of your children lends to them a confusing and at times risky period of poor choices.  I have witnessed those choices in my career.  I am not a parent expert, I claim no formal training in child psychology and can barely spell "psychology"... however I have street smarts and a dictionary.  I have learned from my advanced and well deserved "40 something" age that over time, including 19 years with the police department, I probably know quite a bit more than the average mom on what makes or breaks a child in choosing the right path.  I have mentored 3 wonderful children in my career and currently my husband and I battle the ups and downs with our youngest son's disease.  I most honorably will inform you that almost 3 years ago, I donated a kidney to our son and gave to him what any mother should, quality of life. 

Welcome.  I will share with you some insight into a parent-life less traveled for most and learn from you as well.