Why I Love Angry Birds
Paralysis over.
I’m so glad it’s over. Glad the idea of putting pen to paper – or fingers to keyboard – doesn’t leave me clammy and nauseated.
Now onto super important things, like, uh, well… I do have a ton of important things on my mind, of course. I only think important things. I never numbly play Angry Birds, avoiding reality. Never.
What kind of loser would do that?
Okay, me.
By the way, I rock at Angry Birds. I’m thinking of taking my talent all the way to the bank. Who wants to pay me to play Angry Birds? Anyone?
As for that reality avoidance, it used to fill me with guilt. I am also a professional at guilt. If only I could take that to the bank, as well. I’d be Richard Branson rich. My bird-launching finger would be numb, and I’d have a big, guilty pit in my stomach at all times, but dang if I wouldn’t be rolling in the dough. Or at least gainfully employed.
So far, in nearly four decades of life, I’ve found only a handful of things at which I excel. And none of them lend themselves to a career. Yet. It’s looking like I’m onto something with this guilt-ridden Angry Birds champ thing. I never could parlay professional Law and Order watcher into a full time gig.
Obviously, I’m kidding. Sort of. I know I have skills, or as my two-year-old says, “I got skillzzz.” {We claim to have no idea where he picked that up.} I know I have talents and I’m grateful for them all. I am not only aware of the talents I was blessed with, but I’m also finally okay with not being completely productive at all times.
Let me explain.
I believe that, like Peter Parker’s grandmother says on her death bed, with great power comes great responsibility. I believe that we are not to squander our gifts. But I also believe that our lives have an ebb and flow. There are seasons for being industrious. And there are seasons for transition.
This season, this one of transitioning to a new school schedule and making sure my kids are happy and healthy, is/was a relatively short season. During this time, though, instead of giving myself some grace, I have been beating the crap out of myself. There’s been mostly negative talk. I have always talked to myself, almost always silently, inside my head. Anyway, lately when I chatter with me, it’s all been mean. Lots of talk about being lazy, ineffective, ungrateful.
And then it clicked – I don’t know why or how, just that it did. My brain needed a break. There was a lot of emotional energy required for this new phase of our lives.
As beautiful as it is, there is heartbreak in watching my firstborn start to detach. He may still look like all backpack, with a head and skinny legs, as he walks down the hall to his kindergarten class, but he’s so much more than that. He’s a big kid, with big plans, and although he still needs me it’s not the same. It’s the beginning of some enormous changes.
I don’t like to get all sentimental and sappy, because it hurts. It makes me cry. Which makes it really hard to focus on smashing tiny pigs with tiny birds. So even though I hold a lot of my emotion inside, it doesn’t mean it’s not there. It doesn’t mean I’m not feeling the weight. Feeling some bizarre combo of exhilaration and exhaustion that comes from watching a child grow.
So I realized that this is going to happen periodically in my life. I’m going to have seasons of transition, and I may not always be 100% productive during those seasons. I may put aside some of my goals to help foster the talents of the people I love.
And when it’s all said and done? I’m putting all my money on this: there will be more to write, more to say, and more to dream about, because I will have lived. I will have felt thrilled and depressed and excited and overwhelmed. And I probably will have checked out to spend time blowing up obnoxious, Wilford Brimley-esque pigs.
I hope this made some sense. I feel like I’ve rambled, but this is a blog and not a school essay, so I’m allowing myself some lack of structure. Cool? The English major in me wants to summarize, though. She wants to wrap this up in a bow. So here goes:
- I was kind of busy, completely overwhelmed, and very unproductive all at once.
- I didn’t write or work a lot during that time.
- I felt really guilty and played too much Angry Birds.
- I now believe that it was okay to be unproductive in my work for a couple weeks, and have let go of the guilt.
- I now believe that periodically checking out is extremely beneficial.
Oh, I do love a bulleted list.
I wonder…
:: Do you ever check out of certain parts of your life?
:: What kinds of results do you have when you allow yourself some down time?
P.S. - I have almost 400 unread emails and heaven only knows how many posts in my reader. I am deleting them all. So if there’s something important or funny or beautiful that you want me to read, please email me a link. Or tweet it to me. I look forward to catching up on blogs next week!
read moreWill You Still Love Me?
If I never post again? (Is it presumptuous to assume you love me in the first place?)
Now don’t panic (again with the presumptions), I’m not quitting.
But I have not had ample time in the last week to turn any thoughts into posts. I haven’t had all that many thoughts, either, to be honest. I start, stop, start, delete. It’s awful.
And that book? I had one good thought in regard to the book, resulting in scrapping the bulk of my drivel. While I’m glad I realized that a lot of what I’d written was all wrong, I’m now facing a whole bunch of blank pages. My blank brain + blank pages = a wee bit of panic.
Granted, I had some time over the weekend, but I chose to recharge and hang out with my family (I know. Crazy talk.).
The thing is, we’re only half back to school here. I have one little friend at home for another week. Our preschool always starts after Labor Day, meaning we have two and a half weeks between the start of big kid school and the start of preschool. Today, I’m launching a campaign to change that.
Because I have almost zero free time until preschool starts, making an organized phone, email, Twitter, Facebook, and petition-signing campaign impractical, I just have to hope our Preschool Powers That Be happen to read this post. In the event you are reading, Preschool Powers That Be, I offer the following super compelling reasons to start school sooner:
- My youngest child misses his older brother terribly. Going to preschool a few days a week would take his mind off his troubles, so why wait until after Labor Day? Let’s start preschool when the big kids go back to school.
- I am the world’s lousiest
playaplay-er, as in I am not great at getting down on the floor and playing cars or trains or cowboy-pirate-robot wars for hours. Some play time every day? You got it. Six hours a day, five days a week while we wait for big brother to get home from school? Uh, no. - And finally, the reason I know our preschool will find the most compelling… I don’t have time to blog. Or write. Or think. I used to work some in the morning, but now I’ve lost more than half of that time (we leave to walk to school around 7:15 and before that there’s the whole please eat your breakfast and brush your teeth and put on your clothes what are you doing in your room if you’re not getting dressed and why haven’t you brushed your teeth and no, I don’t think an underwear hat is a great idea deal; not a ton of peaceful working time after about 6:15 a.m.), and then I used to squeeze in some work at nap time. But now nap time is fractured and crazy due to the after school routine. We have not found our rhythm. Why bother getting a routine now, when it’s all going to change as soon as preschool starts again?
Therefore, I believe, Preschool Powers That Be, that your open arms and open doors should welcome our youngest school-goers as soon as their older siblings return to their own hallowed halls.
I have good intentions to not only write, but also read and comment on other blogs. You know what they say about the road to hell, though. I am paving the heck out of that thing this week. I’ll be back, though, I promise.
But first, there’s a miniature pirate in pajamas who needs a snack.
I wonder…
:: How long does it take you to get in the groove once school starts? How long until you’ve found your rhythm?
read moreNewsy News
I have an announcement.
I am not pregnant.
Admit it, that was your first thought. But there are no babies cooking over here.
Some time ago I mentioned that I was going back to work. And then I never mentioned it again. So now, finally (the not knowing has been killing you, hasn’t it?), here’s the scoop:
I’m working again. For money. Because don’t get me wrong, I’ve been working all day, every day at a really fantastic job. It’s so fantastic, in fact, that I’m going to continue doing it (motherhood, in case you’re head-scratching), but I’m going to mix in a few paid gigs, too. Turns out, I missed working. I missed helping people craft pieces of writing. Now, after a nice stretch of all mom, all the time, I’m shaking things up a bit and couldn’t be more excited.
My new professional home is Missy Stevens Writes. It’s not a blog; all blogging will stay here.* Missy Stevens Writes is where you go if you need copy. Any copy. For anything.
Today I’m also very excited to announce my relationship with Eli Rose Social Media. I’ll be working with the talented founders, Liz Jostes and Kristin Zaslavsky – you may also know them as A Belle, a Bean and a Chicago Dog and Taming Insanity – on all manner of marketing and communications word-smithing. There happens to be a post about pitch letters on their site today. If you’ve ever wondered how to pitch a company, go take a look.
There you have it. The big news. Thanks for indulging me here today; we’ll be back to regularly scheduled wondering and whatnot tomorrow.
*Here, by the way, will soon be getting a face lift and going through some small changes. Look at that, something else for you to look forward to.
***
BEFORE YOU GO!
Again with the shouting? Sorry about that. Sincerely. I just don’t want you to miss this:
GiveBack Challenge Post and Contest
My wallet isn’t even winded yet. Come on, let’s make it hurt a little. Please. We can do better. When you’re done here, click that link and help make my wallet sweat, won’t you?
read moreListen To Your Mother Audition
Fear. Shame. Perfectionism. Wholeheartedness.
I’ve been thinking about these things lately. Or rather, these things have been smacking me upside the head lately.
Last Friday I auditioned for Listen To Your Mother in Austin. It was an incredible experience. I’ve heard other people say that; you probably have, as well. I didn’t fully understand until I experienced it. Gigi talks about her audition here, and The Empress tells her story here. Their words ring true for me, too.
I started writing for real – and by for real, I mean publicly and with commitment – almost a year ago. Before that I was a Writer-In-Hiding. Afraid I wasn’t good enough, afraid of rejection, afraid of hurting someone I love. So putting myself out there, standing on a stage, reading something I wrote was exhilarating and terrifying and validating.
Going in I was simply excited to meet two women I admire, Wendi Aarons and Jennifer Sutton (@thesearenewdays). Walking out I realized it was a bit more than that.
Understatement of the year.
I walked in overtired and raw. How fitting, as I was there to audition for a show about the trenches of motherhood. I spent most of last week wallowing in those trenches, taking care of sick kids and juggling the myriad other tasks and obligations on our calendar. After several near-sleepless nights, I was edgy. Exhausted.
It was also fitting that I was there to read a story about my oldest, about his heartbreak and my heartache. Friday happened to be the day of his fifth birthday party. It was divine, I thought, that on a day when we were to celebrate him, I was telling a piece of our story. His and mine. Together. Almost exactly five years to the day from when our story began, I was celebrating our life together though story. And through birthday cake.
As of this writing I don’t know the results of the auditions. Ann Imig, LTYM creator and director of the Madison show, explains the casting process from a director’s point of view. It’s not cut and dried. I have few expectations. Don’t get me wrong, there will be one hell of a happy dance if I’m in the cast. But if I’m not, that’s okay, too.
It will be okay, because I left feeling bouyed. Feeling challenged. Wendi and Jennifer looked me in the eye and said (I’m paraphrasing here, as I didn’t take my little reporter’s notebook and tape recorder with me to the audition), Get out there. Submit your writing. What do you have to lose?
My story, validated. My writing, encouraged.
And I am so grateful for that experience.
As I walked away, I had what you might call an aha moment. I tend to think of them more as Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. moments. So there’s more to this story, and you can read about it here, on the Studio 30Plus Magazine. (Like how I did that? Subtle, right?)
A note:
I wrote this post, and the one for Studio 30Plus, over the weekend. Last night, Sunday, I picked up Brene´ Brown’s book, The Gifts of Imperfection, and sat there with my mouth open.
I’ve heard Ms. Brown speak before. You may remember that her talk is where a lot of my energy around kicking fear to the curb, and embracing authenticity, came from. The book goes into depth about what it means to embrace Wholeheartedness. It talks about why doing things like auditioning for LTYM is key to accepting ourselves.
It’s good stuff. I once again recommend that you read and watch Ms. Brown.
I wonder…
:: Do you have a story about a time you kicked fear to the curb?
:: Have you ever stepped outside yourself and done something uncomfortable? What was the result?
read moreChildcare for the Stay-at-Home Mom
I need to pick your brain. Not like a zombie or anything. More like a high school newspaper reporter who talks around her subject a lot before getting to the real questions.
This is not a rhetorical post. I want you to send me your thoughts. I’m mostly interested in what you have to say about this subject, but feel free to send me your thoughts on whatever happens to be on your mind. I’m here for you.
Let’s get to it.
Babysitters, nannies, au pairs. I’m weighing the pros and cons of hiring someone for the next year.
As it stands now, I have exactly three and a half guaranteed kid-free hours every week. That is, I have those hours if nobody is sick and they both go to school. I’m finding that even when I use my time well, there is not enough of it.
Starting next year, my oldest will be in real school all day (Sob. And yay! Talk about feeling schizophrenic.); and then in the 2011-2012 school year my youngest will be in preschool more mornings each week. So it’s mainly the next year or so that I’ll be short on kid-free time.
I want to back up for just a moment, though. I choose to be home with my boys. I say choose, not chose, because for me it’s an active, living, breathing decision that I am conscious of every day. I cherish this time in their young lives and I know I’m blessed to have this luxury.
I also know that my current situation is temporary, thanks to the aging process and whatnot, so I am not complaining. Please know that. I am not whining or poor-me-ing. I’m just trying to work out some stuff and I’m using you as my sounding board.
Because of my choice to stay home, we’re not exactly rolling in the disposable income over here. I carefully weigh my spending decisions, so hiring childcare will be a big leap for me.
Why, then, am I considering taking that leap? The short answer: writing time. A slightly wordier answer follows.
I don’t bring up my fiction here often (anymore), because in spite of the fact that I love to read what other writers have to say about their craft, I know that’s not everyone’s thing. I have mentioned it, though, so regular readers know there’s a book in the works. The slow, plodding works.
I’ve tried different times of day, different days of the week, and I can’t quite hit my stride. I have those voices in my head, the voices of successful writers, the voices of hopeful writers, and they are all saying: real writers write every day. Real writers can’t not write.
Mostly, I agree with the voices, and I feel adrift when I’m not writing. Mostly. Point of fact: there are days with no words. The nature of my life as a stay-at-home mom is such that my schedule does not always belong to me.
I’ve read the stories of people who wrote novels with kids sitting on their laps. We’ve all heard Stephanie Meyer talk about her experience with hammering out the Twilight books practically overnight, while holding 42 babies (give or take 40, 41 babies). Whether you like the series or not, it’s still impressive that she pulled it off.
And of course there’s JK Rowling, who was a financially-strapped, single parent. The Harry Potter series will forever hold a spot on my list of favorites. The books are not only enjoyable to read, they are staggeringly well plotted. The way she tied that series together, and the cast of characters she managed to bring to life, well, it’s nothing short of excellent.
When I think about these women I am humbled. And sad. I’m sad because I feel lazy and inadequate. I’m not fishing for a pep talk here; I’m just saying there are not enough hours for me.
I can’t figure out what to let go:
- Exercise?
- Family time?
- Housework? (As much as I’d love to say forget it, I cannot. It’s not my nature.)
- Social life?
- Spiritual life?
From where I sit, there’s nothing to let go.
I used to watch too much TV – I do love that brain-sucking screen – but I don’t watch much anymore. I used to waste time on the internet, but not anymore. There are those who would argue blogging and reading blogs is a waste of time, but that’s a fight I don’t recommend anyone pick with me. Besides, I’m pretty structured in the amount of time I spend in the blogging world.
On my youngest’s non-school days (reminder: six days each week are non-school days for him) when the kids cooperate and everything falls into place, at most I have about four quiet hours – from 5-7 a.m. and from about 2-4 p.m. – when I can do me stuff. You know, the stuff that’s nearly impossible to do with a child running around or hanging on your leg. Fiction writing, blog-related work, and Bible study all get crammed into those four hours. And like I said, that’s a perfect day.
By nighttime, I’m pretty mushy. There’s not a lot of brain power left, and so that’s not a great option for me as far as writing goes. Then there are sick days, crazy schedule days… well, if you’re a parent I don’t have to tell you how those days go.
And that’s why I’m considering hiring help.
I wonder…
:: Do you have childcare help and if so, what kind (nanny, regular babysitter, etc.)?
:: How often do you have childcare?
:: How do you structure that time?
:: Are you home when your childcare is there or do you leave?
:: Do you use that time to write, or run errands, or get a pedicure (oh, how badly do I need one of those right now)?
read moreI’ll be here on April 29, 2012
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