Over the holiday, in between picking up the turkey and baking pies, I had the opportunity to visit my mom at work. I haven’t had a chance to visit since she started her still-fairly-new job at one of the retirement homes in the area.

Excuse me: not retirement, Senior Living Community.

But really, even that’s a misnomer. “Senior Living Community” sounds kind of old and boring. And this place was anything but.

The facility itself is beautiful. As soon as you walk in the doors, you’re in a cozy, homey lobby – where several of the residents regularly hang out. Continue on the tour, and you find yourself at the in-house salon, which just so happens to be on the same floor as the fitness center. (And the fitness center, by the way, rivals the one in my office building. In fact, if I’m being honest, I think it’s even better.)

Between the salon and the gym? Why, there’s the movie theater, of course:

Please excuse the quality. Camera phone, you know.

Next showing, La Vie en Rose, according to the Netflix sleeve I found.

On that same floor, you know, just in case the previously mentioned rooms aren’t enough for you, there’s also a library and an art studio. And maybe it’s just because the best I can do is paint by numbers, but I was very impressed with the skills of some of these residents.

One lady even uses a loom!

I can only hope that 1) when I’m that old I’ll still be active enough to enjoy those amenities, and 2) that I’ll even have amenities like that in the first place.

Or maybe just the loom. I bet that could keep me occupied for hours.

I decided that Owen was doing just fine feeding himself, and gave him his own little plate of Thanksgiving food.  I gave him some mashed turkey, mashed potatoes, and sweet potatoes.  Then I served myself and put him in his little seat with a tray and let him eat in peace (while keeping a very close eye on him at all times ).  I didn’t hear a peep out of him during the entire dinner.  He was having a blast! Plus, I was able to eat a little myself without having little hands stealing food off of my plate.   Here are some pictures of Owen with his very own Thanksgiving dinner.

Being a writer allows you the freedom to experience anything. If you want to do something – you simply conjure a few characters, add a problem or two, whack in some research and voilà…you’ve  pretty much experienced it. If only it were that easy.

Creating believable worlds and the characters that inhabit them is fun but at the same time, hard work. Whilst inspiration is everywhere, sometimes it appears only fleetingly and lingers only briefly. Sometimes, you need a little help from your friends.

As I journey through the first draft of my novel, I am noticing a pattern. It links to my reading habits. When I’m not reading, I’m not writing as much. When one pool runs dry, it isn’t long before the other empties as well.

I came across a book the other day. A big red book of inspiration. In it is 1001 stories that I must read before I grow up. It’s jam packed with fodder for any ailing reading habit, covering stories from the early 1700s to modern day.

Each page offers information about the author, illustrator, publisher, awards given, and general theme of the book. There is also a brief rundown of the story. It might take me 1001 days to get through the book and I’m not sure if I’ll get to read the 1001 stories before I grow up- but I’m going to give it a go. If nothing else. it will give me at least 1001 ideas and endless inspiration to keep on writing.

dear self,

i know that you and i have not been on the best  of terms lately. things have been a little awkward between us ever since you stopped talking to that  guy. you haven’t really acknowledged me at all. when i go places with you, it doesn’t seem like you want to introduce me to anyone or show me off at all. and i can’t lie, i get a little offended because i believe that i have a great personality and can  easily become the life of the party. you used to be the same way, but…well…you know how that goes.  i wish you could just go back to that. back to when you put on that bright green dress and those gold heels and you and i partied like morals didn’t exist. you used to be so fun to be around, but as of lately, all you do is look down on me and make me feel like i don’t deserve to be  here with you. and i am tired of feeling unwanted. so i am here to tell you that i love you unconditionally, even when no one else will. i will always think you are the most beautiful woman on the face of the earth and i will tell you that as many times  as necessary until you start acting like it again. even if i have to pick out that outfit you like so much, or that scarf you used to wear on good days. i know you trusted some other people and they let you down, but i want you to know that i will never leave you. from the moment you wake up to the minute you close your eyes to  go to  sleep, i will be here cherishing you. admiring you. adoring you. envying you. competing with you. trusting in you. and loving you. and none of that will ever change.

love, self.

P.S. leaving you a note to tell you that the white sweater you bought makes you look like a cow. good night.

man i hate her. the twin that is. i hate that i have heart-to-hearts with her about the niggas who ain’t worth shit…and the shoes we’re buying them for christmas. don’t judge us. from the outside looking in, you could never understand.

but tonight’s conversation struck a nerve. maybe because this time i wasn’t on edge, breaking down in tears DYING. either way, i feel compelled to write since i cannot possibly sleep.

i told her who i used to be. and the things that made me who i am now. and how i met him. and how i knew that i wanted to be with him for the rest of my life. and how he does NOT love me anywhere close to as much as i love him.

and she slapped me in the face with the next sentence. she says…

“ashley, you have to get a point where you want to be with someone who wants to be with you.”

that came down on me from the clouds like katrina.

but that wasn’t all. then she asks…

“think of it like this: you would be perfectly fine sleeping in his bed every night for the rest of your life, right?”

hmm. yea. and?

“he wouldn’t. if you were to ask him to sleep in your bed every night, he would say no.”

he would. not because he doesn’t enjoy it when he does, but because that is a commitment. that is a burden. and some people just like to not be tied down. now, this boy loves me. or once did. but i adore him. that is a different kind of love that he cannot relate to. and that just hit me.

i tell her about how i grew up, the mother i always defended for no reason, the disconnect between my siblings, life constantly on the move, and how this boy came into my life like an angel. or so it seemed. see—the only thing is, everything that comes out of my mouth, she already knows.

she has seen these days of wanting to look back PAST all the arguments and blowups and STRAIGHT to the good days. she knows the pain of a lost soul and a broken heart.

it’s like she knows everything about me. but not by talking to me. not by talking to him. not by reading my blog or my facebook. not by texting/calling. not by judging. just by living HER life, she knows everything about MINE.

and when she slaps me in the face with truth, beats reality into my head, and hangs up on me when i can’t handle it…

something inside tells me that i am going to make it out a changed woman…because i remember that she was once in my bobo’s and GAP jeans.

and now she’s polo,  juicy, forever21, and it blows me how she makes that shit look so easily attainable.

so…yea.

dear undo.

you the shit bruh. you see where you used to be, acknowledge where you are now, and work towards everything you want to be in the future. you have plans to be great. and you have the determination to make it there. you are truly a bad bitch, without trina or nicki lewinsky and idk if you know but you inspire me to look past the love i have for him, and dig deeper for the love i should have for myself. if only i could get to where you are now. every morning that you wake up and feel like you are drowning in your thoughts, take a breath and remember that there are girls like me that are still stuck in cycles that they can’t break, but you made it out alive. and are still making it daily. without dying. man, your future is so bright, paparazzi gotta throw the ‘locs on. and always remember that BAD is never GOOD until WORSE happens. (:

love, yo twin fool!

and that is all.

there are boys you invite over. THEN there are boys who tell you they’re coming. there are boys you order food with. THEN there are boys you order food for. there are boys who sleep under the blanket. THEN there are boys who get the extra comforter. there are boys who don’t text all day long, and you’re fine. THEN there are boys that you wait for a text from because you know he had a 9 oclock class and usually eats lunch around 11, but it’s 10:30 and he hasn’t called. there are boys who you let walk out of your life. THEN there are boys who you would beg to stay.

and the moment i opened my door and saw him smiling on my front porch, i knew what kind of boy he was

because when he showed up today with that hoodie, and that tshirt, and those dunks, and that smile…i knew that nothing that happened prior would be remembered and nothing that happened after could be discussed. it was here and now in that moment and that was all we cared about.

forget about the past months and the past fights, and the girls i’ve peeped, and the questions i’ve been dying to ask him. forget about the company i’ve kept, text messages i’ve sent, people i’ve gotten close to to keep me from drowning in my own thoughts. all of that is forgotten the first time i heard “kid” because he is that type of boy.

he’s the boy that can joke about deadly ER visits i had as a kid and nicknames i hate. he’s the type of boy that i let leave his shit in my room. the boy i would get out of the bed for near midnight in the freezing cold to bring him medicine when he’s sick, spend my last dollar to feed him…

yes. he is THAT type of boy.

the boy you accidentally fell in love with, and forgot how to fall out. the boy who doesn’t always treat you right, but you stay because you remember when he did. the boy who you would willingly spend the rest of your life with.

EVEN if you only talk to him when YOU call.

HE came over today and despite all the growing i have done in the past months, nothing mattered because the minute we connected, all was right in the world. he once said we were like magnets. when we’re far apart, we’re fine. but when we come too close, we come together. sad, but true. and i scares me to death that everything can still so EASILY fall back in place because i just invested time in these tears and these dates and these nights by myself and these self-reflections and these realizations and these “bad bitch” speeches and these spontaneous purchases

to

get

over

him.

but none of that matters, because the moment i opened my door and saw him smiling on my front porch,

i knew what type of boy he was

and what type of girl i had to continue to teach myself to be

in order to avoid the boys who say “i love you” too loosely, take and don’t give, and come and go as they please,

because those type of boys are NOT healthy for girls like the girl i used to be.

before i end the sadness and the reminiscing and the regrets and the looking back, i have to remember this song. now–it BLOWS me that people are JUST NOW discovering the power of John Legend’s “Evolver” album. it breaks my heart. because in addition to all the amazing tracks on there, there’s one song that makes me feel some sort of way.

it’s called “this time”.

dedicated to all the boys who didn’t know what they had until they lost it.

Ran into you yesterday
Memories rushed through my brain
It’s starting to hit me
Now you’re not with me
I realized I made a mistake
I thought that I needed some space
But I just let love go to waste
It’s so crystal clear now
That I need you here now
I gotta get you back today

[Chorus]
This time I want it all
This time I want it all
Showing you all the cards
Giving you all my heart
This time I’ll take the chance
This time I’ll be a man
I can be all you need
This time it’s all of me

I hit the bar every night
Looking to score a good time
It’s not like I planned it
i’m left empty handed
I’m still alone in my mind
Now what will it take to feel right
Can I come see you tonight?
Is there someone new now?
What can I do now?
Cuz I need you back by my side

[Chorus]

Last time I wasn’t sure
This time I will give you more
I’m more mature
I’ll show you
Last time I didn’t know
I messed up when i let you go
I need you, don’t say no
Lying alone in this room
All that is missing is you
Pick up the phone
Won’t you come home?

[Chorus]

and every time i hear this song i want to cry because there are boys in this world who have it all. they have girls who are willing to go above and beyond for them, and they do them wrong because they think that they can just wait for a sudden realization like these lyrics say, and go and find the girl and win her back.

lives are NOT toys. nor are hearts. it is NOT okay to play games with people’s emotions and think you can come back when you please because, while some girls will take you back,

if they’re SMART, they won’t.

but then again…no one can love and be wise.

Mike and I put up the Christmas decorations and dug out the Christmas music this weekend; growing up, my family always decorated our house and tree the weekend after Thanksgiving, and it’s a family tradition Mike and I have continued in our marriage.  I want to enjoy Christmas as long as possible.  As we unwrapped ornaments and rediscovered our favorite decorations, we talked about how we wanted to celebrate Christmas this year and, more immediately, how we want to observe Advent.  One of my friends wrote today about her practice of making an Advent wreath for her home and lighting the Advent candles.  I must confess that it has me thinking.

Today marks the first Sunday of Advent, and the candle represents hope.  I think I usually identify the strongest with the first Sunday as I feel Advent is all about promise, about waiting, about anticipating Jesus’ coming both then and now.  Today, we attended an Episcopal church, and I am drawn to the liturgy and deep sense of tradition I find there.  I love feeling connected to Christian tradition that stretches far beyond my lifetime.

According to the Book of Common Prayer, or at least the online version, the Anglican Collect for the First Sunday of Advent is this:

Almighty God, give us grace that we may cast away the works of darkness, and put upon us the armor of light, now in the time of this mortal life in which thy Son Jesus Christ came to visit us in great humility; that in the last day, when he shall come again in his glorious majesty to judge both the quick and the dead, we may rise to the life immortal; through him who liveth and reigneth with thee and the Holy Ghost, one God, now and for ever. Amen.

May it be so.

This is, bar none, the BEST sermon I have ever heard for men - 06 Luke_ The Birth of John the Baptizer (Start at around 33 minutes, to get to the good part!)

Every man in our society, aged 19-35 ought to listen to this.

Mark Driscoll is somebody I only discovered recently, but have absolutely been rocked by his teaching. Amazing what power the simple Word of God has, in the hands of an effective communicator!

In summary, Driscoll says that in most “normal” cultures (we are far from normal/healthy!) around the world, there are two stages of maleness: “boy” and “man.” There are several transitional markers which usually fall into place quite rapidly: getting a trade, buying a place, marrying, having children. In our culture, however, these normal transition-markers have broken down. Since there is a prologued gap between child and man, we have created a new stage of life, called adolescence. For some, this period never really ends.

I especially liked what he had to say about men being designed to be givers, not takers, providers, not consumers, others-centered, not inward-focused. Men are supposed to live their lives to empower others – not impose on others, use them and abuse them to facilitate a lazy, out-of-touch, ego-driven existence.

Let’s admit it – young single men in our culture have it MADE. They have tons of money to spend, tons of time to spend it, and no responsibilities to weigh them down. It is easy to purchase big “toys,” to pursue glamorous hobbies, to spend enormous amounts of time in purely selfish occupations.

This stage is great fun…But it’s not real, and it’s not healthy. It should not be encouraged, it should not be prolonged and – here is the really important point – it should not be held on to as “normal,” against which the responsibilities of marriage are “abnormal.” Men are called to “lay down their lives for their wives, as Christ laid down His life for the church.” (1 Cor. 5:25) Christ left all the riches, power, pleasures, authority, etc. of Heaven in order to live a menial existence and die a humiliating and painful death here on earth. If we are to follow Christ’s example, we men also need to lay down our lives – to set down the video-game controller, to sell the fancy truck, to pick up the punch-card and go to work, then come home and change diapers, resolve fights, learn to love and lead in the midst of chaos, then go to sleep exhausted only to wake up again and do it all over. This is real life. This is real adulthood – giving, not taking. Dying to self, not draining others for self. Attention, men – this is what you are called to do!!

Unfortunately, by the time most men get married, they have been single long enough to get comfortable in the “adolescent” stage of life. Tragically, some men try to go on living as bachelors all their married lives – ignoring their spouses and children, under-providing, not carrying their weight around the house, distant, distracted, always wistful for “the good old days.” What makes everything so much worse is that the marketing world has learned that there is an easy market here. Men are insecure about their manliness, and so the “buy this, you’ll be a man!” line works astonishingly well. Also, men long for “the good old days,” and so the promise of “buy this, you’ll feel young again” also works far too well. From advertising to programming to social pressure, every loud voice in our society is telling men that this strange, made-up-phase of life called “adolescence” is not only a normal, but it is to be normative: anything that doesn’t look or feel like adolescence is constricting, limiting, abnormal, unnatural. No wonder men see their families as a “ball-and-chain,” keeping them from “the good life.”

“Marriage is not about making us happy, but about making us holy” – that is a quote I heard which so totally encapsulates this concept. It’s time to grow up, men! It’s time to stand up to the plates. It’s time to stop taking and start giving.

It’s time to leave Never-Never land, and become a real man – now here, take this bottle and diaper and get to work!

“Oh, just try it, it’s not bad!  Go on, try it, you’ll like it!”

How often did we hear those words growing up?!  I hated when I had to eat something new because my parents made me!  There were no special dishes in our house for those who didn’t want to eat what mom made.  It was that way or the no-supper-go-to-bed-hungry highway!  They wouldn’t make us clean our plates if we hated something, but we had to try it.

I will admit I was a picky eater as a kid, but not nearly as picky as my sister!  To this day she is still the pickiest eater out of us 4 kids.  I am happy to say that my tastes buds have changed (and improved!) over the years and I now enjoy foods that I hated as a kid.  What made me think of this is all the squash we grew in our garden this year.

As a kid, I didn’t eat squash or sweet potatoes or any veggie like that.  I never tried squash because I didn’t like sweet potatoes which my  mom makes for every holiday.  I could never figure out why everyone liked them so much!  She mashes them then bakes them in the oven with butter and marshmallows on top.  Not appealing to a 10 year old!  I tried squash for the first time last year and fell in love!  Why did I never try it before?  Why did I waste all my years missing out?!!!  Butter and brown sugar sprinkled over the top…hmmm….it was so good!

It made me think of all the other foods I use to dislike but now enjoy.   Steak is a big one.  I was never a huge fan of steak and I hated the way my parents cooked it to a crisp!  If my mom was grilling watch out!  You’d be picking the char off!  In fact, a lot of what she made was always well done.  Roast, steak, hamburgers.  Maybe she did that because that’s the way my dad liked it, but in either case I didn’t like it!  I never liked goulash either.  My FIL changed that!  He makes THE BEST goulash!  I hated porcupines too.  Does anyone outside of MN know what those are?!  I still don’t care for them, but can now eat meatballs without gagging!  I never ate gravy either!  I can’t believe I admitted that one, but it’s true!  I didn’t like gravy.  Now though, hmmm, how do you not have gravy on your potatoes?!  This one is Toby’s fault.  He makes really good gravy

All of my changes in heart of food came about because of my husband and his family now that I think about it!  They ate the same things just in different (and better!) ways which made me realize what I had been missing.  What are some foods that you didn’t eat as a kid that you do now or vice versa?  Do you think it’s because we get older and our taste buds change/mature or do you think it’s all in your head?  Next time you’re faced with a new food try it!  You might like it!

Do you put up Christmas lights/decorations outside?

I’ve been reading the reddit thread on “What’s a moment in which you felt absolutely content, like everything was perfect for just that one second?” It’s a much better read than most of reddit (for me, anyway; emotional healthwise, anyway).

I don’t have a very good recollection of an absolutely content moment, but a recent very good, heart-swelling moment was this past Fourth of July. And I think what we’re really after is the heart-swell, no?

On the tail end of a week visiting with old friends in warm, open old home state, me and current closest friend and travelbuddy get on a flight. No delays, and fireworks from our plane window. Silent fireworks going off as we flew back east. So good. Being able to see the commonality and the connectedness of celebrations that aren’t entirely aware of each other. So good. So so good.

Today, a good laugh about the tiny Christmas-town he had to put together for his aunt. She was so invested in it being set up, though she did not participate in the process at all, seeing as she was tending to Thanksgiving dinner prep instead. Two north poles and little street lamps that had to be held up by tiny snow drifts.

Work tomorrow, but I am going to focus on how I want to be a person who works to live, because it’s interesting. I don’t work because it is a surrogate love or a surrogate life. Only get one, can’t f*ck it up. At least not that way.

Safe Transitioning Out of Thanksgiving mode, friends!

so, due to my lack of thanksgiving plans, i decided to spend the holiday with my beloved little sister and extended family, and it made me realize so many things about us. we are two years apart in age, but two months apart mentality. she is just like me, and she doesn’t even know it. i swear—everything that comes out of her mouth came out of mine at one point. all of her random dramatic outbursts. every single one of her boy problems. every time she hated her parents. every time she skipped school. every time she got grounded. i am literally watching her relive my life, and it is the weirdest thing ever. and maybe because i know how i react to rules and restrictions, i let her be a little more free when she’s with me. i let her be grown. i let her hang with me as a bestfriend, not a big sister. she meets the people i care about, and viceversa. she comes to stay with me…but does her own thing. and that’s fine because i know her. no matter how many times you tell her, some mistakes she has to make on her own. and i let her. and i make sure i’m there for her when she makes them, like i wanted somebody to be there for me. and we fought all the time as kids…and now, as we grow older–we realize that we are twins. and that we love each other unconditionally. and that is rare. because neither of us trust easily.

but we trust each other. and that is something to be thankful for.

Still has not come for me. Actually, I still feel pretty apathetic.

College applications isn’t affecting me as much as it is other people. I feel like I should be freaking out much more than I have been for the past three months. Honestly, college has just become such a bother. College applications just leaves another thing for me to do and it’s such a waste of time. It’s just repeating what I already know about myself. How boring is that? (Although, to be honest, I actually enjoy writing the essays. It feels…relieving?) The work isn’t really that bad though. It just slightly annoys me. What really infuriates me is thinking about the past. I don’t want to do it anymore. I am ready to move on with my life (I think).

It’s kind of ironic. In the past, I think I’ve been more inclined to reflect rather than explore. Only, senior year has been different. I have this impulse to just try something new or go somewhere.

This probably accounts for my sudden desire to go visit China. I used to resent that fact that my family and I went there so often. I considered it to be evidence of my parent’s overall boringness. Now though, I feel like all my previous visits were just a waste. I went, I did things, but I never really explored or absorbed the culture as much as I should have.

For the past couple of months, I’ve felt more mature, but I just now realized maybe I’m confusing recklessness for maturity.

Selina posted about looking through old photos with her daughter and the poignant reminder of her younger self that one particular picture provoked.  I started to comment there but it turned into something very much about me.  So I thought I’d better put it here, where it’s all “me, me, me…”

My own unexpected visit from a younger self happened a few months ago after I finally got around to buying the reissue of the Clash’s London Calling. Hidden away amidst the DVD, the extra CD of demos, the booklet with essays and reminiscences from band members and associates was a full sized reproduction of the original lyric sheet.  I spent hours and hours with a borrowed copy of this album when I was seventeen, poring and puzzling over the words which back then seemed emanations from a foreign universe of revolution, dope, guns, sex, politics, South American history, squats, politics and street poetry in its purest, wildest sense.  I didn’t realise it at the time – all that teenage metal and prog head knew was that this album rocked pretty hard for a punk band and that Mick Jones could pull off a mean solo – but the music too was the 140 degree proof distillation of the most fundamental English strains of rock’n'roll – a stew going back through the Mott the Hoople, the Kinks, the Stones and back across the Atlantic to the roots of Stax, Jamaica and Bo Diddley. The Clash were gunslingers and for the seventy minutes the sides of the record lasted, I was a gun slinger too.

Thirty years later (thirty years! What happened?), I sat in my office with the unshrinkwrapped package before me and welled up.  What in God’s name would that seventeen year think of me now?  I felt like a sell-out, a failure, someone who’d wasted every chance that he’d been offered.  Straight job, bald head, “working for the clampdown…” I sat there for ten minutes then went next door to talk to my boss.

My boss is probably the closest thing I have to a friend at work. She plays keyboards in Fairport type folk bands at weekends,  swears more than I do, gets slightly hammered and overly emotional at big staff events and is a genuinely brilliant and inspiring manager.  I love her to bits. She’s also (after some years) got more of a handle on me than most people.

“I’ve just found this,” I said, holding up the lyric sheet.  “I haven’t seen it since I was seventeen and my seventeen year old self would hate me everything I’ve become.”

There was a pause for a moment but my boss hasn’t become the senior manager of a gang of bright but fragile people without learning a thing or two.

“No he wouldn’t. Of course he wouldn’t.”

“I’m not so sure about that.”

“I think he’d be seriously impressed.  Wouldn’t little elf and dudelet impress him? And aren’t you doing a job that actually means something?  And the musical thing – you really did take that some distance.”

“Didn’t get anywhere, though.”

“But you did try.”

Pause.

“And you’re probably still very much the same person.  I think you probably still care about the same things.”

Pause again.

“Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.”

Then I went back to my desk, turned it up London Calling quite loudly and did some work.

Earlier today, I was looking at the lyric sheet and then had to drop it to go off to the kitchen to get dudelet a drink. While I’m sorting things out, I put on the title track.  Dudelet began to bounce from side to side vigorously.

“What do you think of this? Do you like it?”

“Yes! It’s got a very good beat for clapping to!”

He bounced a bit more then dashed off.  I followed with the blackcurrant squash.

My boss was right.  My seventeen year old self would definitely have been impressed with dudelet, if nothing else.

Under the heading of “if only my parents understood” or as I like to put it “if only I was as smart as my kids” comes the dreaded discussion of chores.  You remember those were the acts we did as children that allowed us to all participate in the care of the home and in turn provided us with a sense of participation and accomplishment.

Now, to be honest, at the time none of us who are now listed as “grown-ups” saw it that way.  These were dreaded acts that were forced upon us in the name of building character or putting hair on our chest.  We were often subjected to these acts to make up for the laziness of our parents who we noted never had to do a chore when we were.  How dare they sit there drinking coffee or watching a football game while we slaved away at cleaning a floor or heaven forbid, mowing the lawn.

Today it is so very different according to the people in my house.  I mean I can barely understand why my children are so exhausted as they remind me every day three or four times a day.  They have to wake up and go to school (I drive many of them so they do not have to take the bus) and then they have to learn (can you imagine?).  They also have homework (this was something I am sure was invented AFTER I completed school) and they have jobs (can you even imagine how hard this is?).  Further, they have to balance a social life and all heck breaks loose if I request they participate in a family event because they already have so much of their plates.  It is just overwhelming how hard it is to balance it all.

I started preparing all of my children when they were six that seven was going to suck a bit more.  And each year I would allow them to gripe only to share that I knew just how hard it was and yes, next year would be worse.  I mean, why spend all this time allowing the kids to think that when they reach a magic number that life gets easier.  Of course, I also pointed out to them the only reason I had children was to complete all the work I no longer wanted to do.

I am sure it has yet to dawn upon any of them (age 9 or 21) that as adults we have far more work with children than we do without.  And can you imagine if I gripped every day about how much laundry, cooking, shopping, cleaning or work I had to do?  I work from the house AND attend school from home so I must have it easy.  There is all the time in world for me to complete my stuff AND chores AND haul them all around.  (Let’s not even talk about my homework!)

What cracks me up about all of this is the understanding of perception.  Your perception of an event in essence is your reality at that moment.  While I look back and can remember cleaning rooms growing up, I now understand I was not commuting 2 hours a day as my Father did nor working 12 hours  a day (remember, they did not have laptops to bring your work home on).

I know at some point all of these children will look back at the current age they are at and remember it fondly as being one of the easiest years of their life while they are struggling through whatever year they are headed into and all the demands on them and their schedules.  If only I could impart the knowledge to them that life is exactly what you make of it: easy or hard.  Yes, there are bumps and some rocky patches, but what you put on your POD (plan of the day) is up to you and how you move through each of those items determines just how much that day sucks.

And while I have grown older in years (and apparently have lost all the wisdom I had when I was 16) I do understand that chores can build character and thankfully for me they did not add hair to my chest.

Tabitha and her 4 best friends all made a promise to each other when they were 12, to stay virgins until marriage and they all have purity rings to solidify their commitment. However, that was before high school and before boys. Now 15, the girls are still just as committed to each other and their vows. But when Tabitha gets a new boyfriend things start to change for the group. Morgan, Tab’s best friend is not supportive and secrets within the group begin to grow. When one of the girls does the unthinkable, Tabitha finds herself having to decide not only between her best friends but between what she thought was right and wrong.

Pure is a mixture of a lot of things. To begin, it is a light-hearted novel about struggles between best friends and standing up for what you believe in. It is about coming of age and finding yourself. It is also about beliefs and religion. While I do not typically like novels that have religion as a central feature as I often find them preachy, the religion aspect did not overpower the story.  The characters could have been a little bit more developed, and the plot was a little slow. However, I really enjoyed Tabitha’s struggle and found her to be a completely relatable character. It addressed real issues, and I appreciated the many viewpoints on premarital sex and an introduction to the idea of purity rings which is kind of popular right now. I am not sure how appealing this will be to a wide audience, but I enjoyed it.

You might like Pure if you enjoy books with: a light and uplifting feel, multiple main characters but with single person narration, a coming of age realistic feel.

Other books by Terra Elan McVoy: After the Kiss

If you enjoyed Pure you might also like:  The V Club by Kate Brian, Peaches by Jodi Lynn Anderson and Lost it by Kristen Tracy.

For more information on purity rings click here.

Rating: 3Q 3P MJ

Other Covers:

We are busy growing and learning and becoming big boys in our house lately.  After a period of time in which they didn’t really seem to add anything new to their repertoire of skills the boys have suddenly seemed to blossom.

Dean is starting to make his first attempts at recognizable language.  The other day I stayed late at work and Nathan picked the boys up and brought them home.  When I got home Dean was so excited when he saw me and started saying, “Hiiiiii De” over and over.  It was clear he was saying “Hi Dean” which he hears us say to him all the time.  It is beyond cute!  He has now extended this to “Hi Da” or “Hi Dada”.  Anyone and everyone is De or Dada!  He loves saying it and walks around the house saying Hi all the time now.

Dean has also decided he would like to clap again.  This isn’t the first time he has clapped.  He started clapping a very long time ago and then quit.  Then he started again and quit again.  Now he claps again but will clap on demand or if he is happy or excited or if he wants to let you know he likes something.  Another sign of clear communication!

Emory on the other hand has never clapped and still doesn’t.  But he has mastered his own new skill.  He is a climber and practices his climbing at every possible chance.  He can climb onto the sofa unaided now and loves to climb up and down over and over again.  It is funny to watch him throw his leg up on the couch and push up on his toes with his other foot as he pulls as hard as he can with his hands.

They love being outside now.  Which, as we move into the winter months, will probably frustrate them.  Dean is still the more cautious of the two but once he is comfortable he tends to be very adventurous.  Emory has no fear and takes off to try everything.  Well, I say he has no fear.  But there are moments when he is very shy and clingy.  There doesn’t seem to be a rhyme or reason to his fears.  They suddenly show up and we deal with them as they do.

Overall they are happy and healthy and loved deeply.  I look forward to the next few months as they increase the ability to communicate and learn some words.  I look forward to them eating more table food.  I look forward to laughing and playing and growing right along with them!

“No”

“Dean, sit down.”  (Said during bath time)

“Emory, be careful!”

“Good job!”

“Thank you!”

“Be gentle.”

“Don’t push!”

“I love you!”

and the most recent….

“Emory!  Leave your penis alone!”

The boys first visit with Santa. They didn’t quite know what to make of the “jolly old elf”, but they really seemed to take a liking to him. Alex especially liked his beard …