Auf Wiedersehen, Kaffee

Here's the coffee situation in my house: I've got a Kitchenaid coffee maker that's been working hard for me for ten years now. I purchased it in Germany right after Bob and I were married. We've got a Breville espresso maker that makes beautifully crafted shots of espresso. Most recently, we added a Keurig one cup coffee maker to the family. With the right pod, it makes a decent cup of joe.

So why am I bidding adieu to my three loves? First, let me say- this is not good-bye. We're just taking a break, not getting divorced.

Here's the thing: especially since having children and writing my first book, I've found my dependence on coffee growing. This worries me. In other aspects of my life, I listen to my body. When I'm running, I've very in-tune with how my body is functioning. When I was having a baby, my body and mind were singular in their mission. But for some reason, I seem to think it's okay to ignore the signs my body is giving me on a day to day basis.

Just because these last three months have been exhausting doesn't mean I have the right to tune out what my body is telling me. Instead of finding/making time for rest, I've been medicating myself with caffeine.

So for the next 30 days, I'll be saying No Thank You to coffee. It's just a little experiment. I'm hoping to regain my focus and clear my thinking. My friend Katie said she did this experiment for 90 days and found that she actually had more energy. This seems counter intuitive to me, but I'm certainly hoping by cutting out caffeine, I'll have more energy. Fingers are crossed.

The hardest part of this exercise is that for me, coffee is a tender lover. I savor the feel of a creamy cup of  coffee in my hand, the warm nurturing feel of the first swallow. I relish the chilled bitter sip of an iced latte through my Starbucks straw. So for the next month, I'll miss the experience, but I'm happy to bid farewell to the jitters.

Wish my luck, friends.

Thoughts on Independent Book Sellers & Wallflower in Bloom- A Book Review

I love, love, love the Indie Bound book list that comes out every month. If you're not familiar with it, you can check it out here: Indie Bound
Indie Bound is a list of books that are sold and recommended by Independent Book Sellers across the country. Yes, the books are also sold on Amazon, Barnes and Noble, and on iTunes, but when you buy a book from these Mom and Pop stores, you're keeping people in business.

Do I love paying full price for a book? Ummm... no. I like a deal. And I like to be able to stock up on books without breaking the bank. My friend Evan says he feels like he's donating to charity when he buys a full price book at Orca, an indie bookstore in Olympia. I concur. So I try to mix it up. For every two books I buy on Amazon, I try to buy two books from an Indie book store, and borrow another two from the library. You know- spread the love.

Here's the best thing about the Indie Bound book list: the books are almost always phenomenal reads. The only time I was lead astray was with their December top pick, Sisters, which was so damn bad I couldn't believe anyone had actually read it all the way through before endorsing it. But that's another matter.

On the June list, I saw Wallflower in Bloom and was intrigued by a couple of aspects. First, the author, Claire Cook wrote her first book when she was 45. When she was 50, her book Must Love Dogs was made into a movie. I admire that kind of spunk. Want to re-create yourself? Absolutely! Go and do it!

Second, the cover is beautiful. -I know, I know: mustn't judge the book by the cover and all that. But you have to admit, we are drawn to beauty.

The premise of the story is that the main character, Deidre, has lived her entire life in her super famous brother's shadow. Tag is a life coach, New Age guru, and Deidre is his personal assistant. When her life crumbles around her, on a drunken night, she taps into Tag's social networking sites and gets herself voted on to be a last minute replacement on Dancing With the Stars. There, she learns many lessons about who she is and who she can become.

Now, I'll be the first to admit, this is not usually my kind of read. I'm not crazy about pop culture, or television at all, but since the book was recommended by Indie Bound, and it is summer, I decided to check it out of the library. (I wasn't committed enough to buy it).

It was an enjoyable read. Yes, the main character drove me a little nuts. I just wanted to shake her and say, "Damn it, woman! Get a hold of yourself and find some self confidence. What the hell is the matter with you?!" -I have the hardest time understanding people who constantly berate themselves and tear themselves down. Life is much too short to destroy yourself daily.

Couched in the silly premise and pop culture references was a great lesson, and it really did make me think. Self confidence is not usually my problem, but Lord knows I have many other issues that I'm addressing. Deidre is figuring out life and finding her most authentic self in Wallflower in Bloom, and that's what we're ultimately trying to do as humans, so yeah- this book was worth my time.

3.5/5 Stars.

College Bound?

It's no secret I was taken completely by surprise by some toddler behavior that my friends assured me was "normal." Especially considering the fact that Margot was hitting two and a half (I have friends who SWEAR the halves are the hardest part. One and a HALF, two and a HALF, three and a HALF...) and she got a new baby sister, all in one fell swoop.

And I remember sitting at our little kitchen table here in Kansas, nine months pregnant, reading texts from my friend Sarah. We share our honest, open mamma moments, fears, triumphs via text (we're busy! No time to chat! No, you cannot run outside naked, young lady!... I digress). Anyway, as I read a text about how challenging it was to have a baby and a two and a half year old big sister, I nodded my head in sympathy. Meanwhile, Margot was playing quietly in her pretend kitchen, being charming as all get out. Oh, dear! That sounds rough! I thought. But Margot seems pretty well adjusted to this move, and she LOVES babies. Maybe we'll be al-


BAM!!! Fast forward 8 weeks, and out of the blue, Margot started to exert her little will, and I was ill-equipped to deal with it. What was a mamma to do? Someone really should have warned me! So we had three weeks of what I can only assume the Marine Corps boot camp is like. They tear you down, rip out your guts, spit down your neck, and if you're still somewhat alive, they back off and see if you can get yourself to your feet.

After that, they beat the shit out of you only occasionally. Okay, I'm getting most of my information from G.I. Jane- the movie, which I'm pretty sure is not even the Marine Corps. Whatever. You get my gist.

So I think we're in that "So you survived and call yourself a mother of two" stage right now. And I'm even walking with a little swagger. (Please don't disillusion me. I do realize I'm just one nap shy of having the rug pulled from my beneath my feet).

But here's the thing I want to focus on today, this little victory:
Since Margot started back to school (euphemism for daycare) on Monday, she's a much happier little girl. And all of a sudden so grown up!

This morning at 6:00, Bob and I heard Margot's bedroom door open. Now, usually this is when she starts screaming and/or slamming her door. But today she padded down to the bathroom, and a few minutes later we heard the toilet flush.

We held our breath. Bob said, "I guess she went back to bed...?"

An hour later she came in my room, and was wearing a dress. -A clean one, ready for school. "I dressed, Mamma!" she said.
"I see that. Do you have underwear on?"
"Nope."
"Okay, well you can't go to school without underwear. Go get some on, and we'll go downstairs to eat breakfast," I answered. Then I held my breath. It could go either way. Screams or acquiescence.
"Okay, Mamma."And she trotted back to her room.

Then I got up and was changing Sabine and getting dressed for the day... while Margot went downstairs (fully dressed WITH underwear) and ate breakfast. She found a yoghurt she wanted, opened it, got out a spoon, put on her bib, and ate breakfast in the dining room!

Then she came upstairs for me to wipe her face. And you know what? Thank god she did, because if she didn't need me for something this morning, I think I'd believe she was leaving this afternoon to enroll at University.

I'm proud of my little lady, and I'm damn proud her half toddler stage hasn't eaten both of us for lunch.
Together, my little Margot-Mia and I are a pretty good team.

Midwives- A Book Review

I finished reading Midwives by Chris Bohjalian today, and want to review it while it's still fresh in my memory. I've read a few of Bohjalian's books in the past- and have enjoyed them. Now if I could just pronounce his last name!

Midwives tells the story of a midwife who finds herself stranded at a home birth that goes terribly wrong and performs a c-section on the mother after she's died. The only problem: what if the mother wasn't really dead and the midwife killed her, by accident. By trying to rescue the unborn child. (Not a spoiler alert. All this information is on the dust jacket).

Certainly this book appealed to me as a mother who just gave birth with a midwife. And the subject is pretty black and white. There aren't too many people who have neutral feelings about home births. There is a pretty compelling court case throughout the book, and the characters and dialogue are believable- if not completely warranting sympathy.

While I didn't care deeply for any of the characters, I admire how Bohjalian wrote about birthing from a woman's perspective- as a male writer.
My favorite quote of the book:
"...Each surge has the potential to change a mother, and eventually one will. I told him how a woman at that stage might go from being this totally serene person in touch with everything around her, to this frenzied animal unaware of anything but her own physical reality. Her surges. The way her body is changing. And that's part of the deal, the giving up of everything- and I mean everything- but the demands of labor. A woman's body knows what it's doing, I said, and she just has to let it do its own thing." -Pg. 228

Aside from the woman dying during childbirth (freaky!) this book brought back many tremendous memories of my own recent birthing experience with Sabine and our fabulous midwife, Kelly. (Pictured below).

For the book itself, I'd give it 4/5 stars. For what it made me remember and feel: 5/5
Added bonus: It was a library book, so I got the experience for free! What a novel idea... (Ugh, bad puns!)

And if I ever get to meet Chris Bohjalian, and if we were ever to become friendly enough that I could speak candidly with him, I'd say, "Chris, buddy, I really like your books. You tell a damn fine story. Maybe you could set just ONE of them outside of Vermont? Just a thought. Cheers." And then we'd continue telling the war stories that only road-wearied novelists can weave.

Until then, happy reading, friends.

Scattered Much?

The other day I was talking with Bob, and he made an excellent observation:
"I think once you start the school year, you'll find that your life is more focused- and you won't have time to spread yourself too thin."
Now- this might not make sense to anyone else. It seems like when the school year is in session I would be more frenzied, instead of less.
Yes and No.
Consider this: since moving to Kansas, we worked feverishly, crazily, balls-to-the-wall-y to get settled into our house. The results: our home is lovely, and it feels very much like we've lived here for years. Done and done.
Next up: have ourselves a baby. Now, most of the hard work was already done. Sabine was only 7 weeks from being born when we moved into our house. All we had to do was get settled, find a birthing center, and go through labor. The results: Sabine had the birthing experience I've dreamed of my entire life: naturally born, unmedicated, on a (real, not hospital) bed surrounded by people I love more than anything.
Done and done.
Next up: Ummmm... there was a yawning expanse of possibilities. Some of the options that pinged around my head: stay at home and write and mother, teach Language Arts at Leavenworth High School, try to stay sane as Bob was gone for the entire month of June, keep some semblance of order in my house and laundry, and- uh, what about query letters? And damnit, why can't I get my body to run FASTER? Huh... CrossFit looks fun. Oh, we're out of peanut butter.
I couldn't calm my thoughts and put them into a plan, because I didn't know what to do or how to get there.
But things are falling into place.
Yesterday Sabine turned 12 weeks old, which in itself is astonishing. How can that much time have passed so quickly? And I feel it also explains some of the weirdness... hormones. They're a mo-fo.

So the plan is this:
Teach Language Arts at Leavenworth High School. My boxes of stuff are in my classroom, but it's not set up. My Kansas license is applied for, but not finalized. THE AGONY! C'mon already, I'm ready to start getting my life into a rhythm. But I'm afraid of losing this baby time with Sabine. THE GUILT!

The girls are starting full time CYS (on-post daycare) on Monday. Well, actually, Margot is starting full time. I'm not sure how much Sabine will go in the next two weeks. Enough for me to get my classroom set up and write some query letters...

I have two and a half weeks ahead of me before I have to start going to Leavenworth School District meetings. The girls will be in school, and this allows me the time to: figure out how to pump the right amount of milky for Sabine to take to school with her. Run at the gym each day. And query literary agents. It's been strangely thrilling to have Bob ask me when I plan to start writing my next book. Say what?! The man believes in me! Then yesterday I mused that I might re-read the Harry Potter books during the next two and a half weeks. In silence. Bliss... until my biggest fan said, "What about your query letters?" Right. Yes, of course I'll get those written.

But first I must re-read my novel. You know, to get the juices flowing. To revive my confidence. To ensure I don't write a letter that sounds like this:
Dear Agent,
I wrote a pretty good book that you really need to take a look at. Thanks in advance. Smiley face.

And did I mention my running is not what it used to be before I gave birth? I know that must come as a shock. Why the hell not, you might be asking yourself. It's the question I'm asking, too. And I'm attempting to beat my body into submission with CrossFit. Which is torturous in a way that makes you humbly say, "Thank you, sir; may I have another?" whilst kneeling in your own feces, handcuffed, and blindfolded. I don't know why it appeals to me, but it does. Don't judge me.

So that's where I am right now:
Mothering every minute, running as many hours as I can, finding time to re-read my novel, write query letters, move into my classroom, prepare for the first week of school- and hoping desperately the state of Kansas doesn't pull a fast one in the eleventh hour.

And one day, when all the above has been nailed down, then I will brew myself a lovely cup of coffee, sit down and write the first sentences to my newest novel (which are solidified in my head)... and all will be right in the world.
But for now... I really do think we're out of peanut butter.

Confidence, where art thou?

You know how it feels like you're getting somewhere when you talk something out- just talk and talk until you feel like you've reached a solution? Yes, this is what's happening. Welcome to my internal dialogue. I don't believe talking to yourself makes you crazy (and neither do the voices in my head).

Remember those manuscripts in the pictures above? Remember how I slaved over them, cried tears into the paper, and ruthlessly edited out carefully chosen words? Yes, me too.

Suddenly, well- it's been more gradual than "suddenly"- they're beginning to feel like shit. Yes, that's right. Maybe you prefer the terms Drivel, Nonsense, What the Hell Were You Thinking Taking Eight Months to Write a Novel?

And before you say all the wonderful things you've been saying- which IS encouraging, but you don't have to live inside my head, let me cut you off at the pass and try to do the heavy morale lifting for you. (Incidentally, this is the same process I try to use whilst running- the pep talk extraordinaire).

Self, perhaps you should consider the following:

1. You've only sent out 8 agent queries and heard back from two. The other six have presumably left you for dead. -Maybe... I should send out a few (dozen) more. Yeah, that's what I tell myself, and that's what others tell me, too. This is like walking right into a pit that has a tightrope strung across it. I know the rope is there, but it's a shot in the dark to find it. And 54/55 times I'm going to miss it and trip headlong into the pit. -But who cares about the ones who reject your work? The agent who is meant to represent you will. So true. But it comes down to confidence- and mine is flagging.

2. You really do believe in your heart of hearts that writing is the next stage of your life. And you would NEVER encourage someone to sit around and wallow in their stupid fears when facing a challenge. You would be the FIRST to say- Lace up your shoes; let's run! or Send in those applications! or One more e-mail to branch can't hurt! Fight for your future! Damn straight! Yes, well, when the shoe is on the other foot- it's a bit daunting. And perhaps I owe a few hundred people apologies for pushing them too hard. (I'll get started on those apology letters as soon as I've written the query letters...)

3. My most recent hair brained motivation or lack thereof- I need a new desk chair. Mine is abysmal. I need to find one that supports a proper writer's back. Until then... well...

Maybe this weekend needs to be devoted to finding a desk chair. That would be a good place to start. And one more excuse to axe.

4. Now for a couple of goodies:

• "Don't give up! It took Thomas Edison 1,000 tries to make the light bulb." -I ran across this one in our school's planner this week. I'm pretty sure it was put there just for me.
• “Passion won’t protect you against setbacks, but it will insure that no failure is ever final.” -Steve Jobs

So next time you see me... ask how the agent quest is going. Then if I don't give you a good, solid, confident answer- give me a dose of my own medicine. A "You can do it! You BETTER do it!" Your confidence coupled with my own just might do the trick.

"Volks-Run?"

In Germany, the locals do this thing where they get in a big group in one small town and then walk through fields and other little towns (stopping for beer and pretzels along the way) until they get to a predetermined end location. This is called a Volksmarch. It can be a languorous pace, or it can be a workout. It depends on location and how zealous the other people in the crowd are.

Sunday, I'll be running the Fueled By Fine Wine half marathon down in Oregon, and I'm approaching it like a volksmarch, but since I'll be running most of it, I'll call it a volks-run.

I'm looking at this race differently than those in the past. This is the first long(er) distance race I've run since that whole ectopic debacle, and I just want to embrace the fact that my body has worked for me (most of the time) and has done a pretty good job. I'm truly blessed that this frame of mine will carry me through life's ups and downs, not to mention long runs.

The game plan looks like this:

• Enjoy the scenery- It's in wine country! Hello?! Pretty, pretty, pretty.
• Don't worry about pace- Much of the run is off road and there is a 800 foot climb. That might not sound like a ton of feet, but trust me, it's grueling.
• Take a picture or two?- In past races- like the Athens Marathon in Greece, I've scoffed at people stopping to take pictures. How gauche! How amateur! But guess what? I'm never going to be an elite runner, and I sure as hell wish I had some pictures from that Athens marathon to remember it a little better, since my brain was addled from the 19 mile uphill. But I digress. Where was I? Oh, right- taking pictures. I'll have my iPhone for music, so I think I'll stop to capture the moment on film... or pixels. Whatever.

I've never felt this relaxed before a half marathon... and really, it's only a half. It will be okay. But depending on how Sunday goes, this might be my new running M.O. Plus, wine tasting and artisinal goat cheese on baguettes at the finish line doesn't sound half bad.