The Adventures of Alpha Mom

Hey there! Just today I have come to the end of a wicked-busy spring. Ten weeks of teaching rolled into a week where I had to get ready for the goddamn garage sale, the Western New York Romance Writers open house and a Hope Chest breast cancer benefit where I cooked gluten-free food for a very hungry crowd. Now, in the middle of all that I also decided my alter ego needed to have a big release party for her second book, so I’m not *quite* done. Oh, and in two weeks I’m flying out to L.A. to celebrate 40th birthdays with my high school BFF. And a month later I’m going to the RWA conference in Anaheim – but for today I’m done. I’m going to lie on the couch and drool. Maybe I’ll go get a bubble tea.

This spring was nutty-busy. The kids have been busy too. Softball, T-ball. Several times I looked at my husband and said, “I’m supposed to take who WHERE? WHEN? HUH?” And all the while we’ve been flying back and forth, so has the mother robin who built a nest in the bushes in front of our house. It is a terrible place to build a nest. Chest high. Right where we park our cars. What was she thinking?

Every kid in the neighborhood (and there are about 75) wanted to get a look at those beautiful robin eggs. Especially my kids. Particularly the eldest girl, who not only loves animals but is obsessed with the camera. We made a deal. We’d check on the robin eggs once a day when the mother was off foraging. I would take the pics because I was taller and could peer down into the nest without prying the branches apart and endangering the nest. I was so afraid it would fall. I was afraid the mother would decide she’d made a mistake and abandon the nest – or try to move it. Splat.

And of course my eldest girl also asked me how babies are made. Did I ever mention I choked the last time she asked me that question? Hard. Why was it so easy to talk about homosexuality – “Actually, honey, I believe love is love. Why couldn’t a woman love a woman or a man love a man, hmmm?” – but I couldn’t explain sexual intercourse? I was so ashamed. And amused. And determined to get it right the next time it came up. So I did. I used the words penis, vagina, egg, sperm, squirt gun, condoms, sexually transmitted diseases (never too early to lay the groundwork for those last two, I figured), and then we talked about cupcakes. I’m sure we’ll cover more ground next time, when she comes up with more questions.

I love this picture.

And what does that have to do with baby birds? Well, my girls are growing up. Faster and faster now. And it’s time to ease up on the do as I say, every single time. I explained why it was important not to jostle the bushes. I don’t have to make sure she doesn’t do it. If I had, we wouldn’t have this picture.

Because when she says, “I’ll be careful!” Some of the time, she will be careful. And I have to let her. Because I want her to grow up believing in herself. She should be testing her wings right now. I don’t want her to stay in the nest. I want to teach her to fly. To hang on to her faith in herself that she CAN do it – but hopefully not be a stubborn idiot ALL of the time. Some of that will be inevitable. I was a hopeless idiot many times while growing up – ah, well.

The baby birds grew up in a week. A week.

From this:To this:

In a week.

It takes my breath away. When I look into my girls’ eyes, I see humor, intelligence and will. Not maturity – we’ve a ways to go for that – but they won’t become mature unless Alpha Mom eases up a little and lets them start making a few choices for themselves. Good God. I knew this was going to be hard.

I just hope it hurts me more than it hurts them.

Baby Bird Update: The baby birds, now dubbed Big Beak and Tiny Wings, flew out of the nest this morning. My daughter found Tiny Wings trapped in the empty garbage can. We rescued her by tipping the can…

Where Is The Sexy?

Is sexy how you look? Or how you feel? Maybe it’s how you move – with confidence, authority or abandon? Is sexy even a where – or is it a what?

I bet we all know it when we see it…and that it takes different shapes for each of us. I also imagine we don’t recognize our sexy nearly as often as others do. I can only speak for myself. I live in this body. This head. I have this heart, this soul. I know I decided on what sexy *is* before I ever had sex. I also know my self image has little basis in reality. When I think of sexy, I see curves, but my body is mostly straight lines. Hmm…where is your sexy? Or what? Or who?

Real Life Hot Men At The Tough Mudder MI/OH 2012

Hey y’all! I’ve been blogless lately because I wore myself out. I worked my butt off to get Hook Up and Power Trip in to my editor before I started teaching a five-week night class.

I also turned forty.

I considered blogging about turning forty, but even *I* don’t want to read about how great my life is even though I feel conflicted about dying my hair and, yup, these hands on the keyboard look like my momma’s. Hell, naw! Blah, blah, blah.

Instead I bring you juicy inspiration from the Michigan/Ohio Tough Mudder Challenge! It’s an obstacle course designed by the British Special Forces. Twelve miles of mud, fire, monkey bars, walls, barbed wire, electrified wire, hills, dales, rusty pipes and a ton of other crazy shit that was great fun to watch – so much fun that I’m considering doing it myself next year. It was that inspiring. And did I mention the proceeds go to the Wounded Warrior Project?

I should also probably mention I had to sign a death waiver just to be a spectator.

He went from here

to here in 3 hours and 11 minutes.

My husband struggled with a groin injury during his training for this event. He wasn’t sure how the challenge was going to go for him. Actually he wasn’t even sure he would be able to complete it – and he didn’t care. It was all in the name of a good cause, and he’s doing his own fight against forty. Apparently, it’s hard to feel “old” when you spend the winter months going to the gym getting in ass-kicking shape. He recruited a friend from work to be his “Muddy Buddy” and they cheered and insulted each other through their training.

That's my guy on the left.

Lucky for me, his Muddy Buddy brought a friend to the event, because I suck at reading maps. We tromped around the outside of the course and took pictures, hooting and hollering. I did him the service of pointing out several fine female asses and he promised not to rat me out for stalking these guys and taking multiple pictures.

I mean, seriously, holy hotness! I have no clue who they are. I don’t care who they are. Let’s just call them inspirational erotic romance research heroes. You’re welcome.

HERO! With an 8-pack. Count 'em.

This guy helped my husband over a fourteen foot wall, and then caught his hand and pulled him up to the top of monster Mt. Everest.

Mt. Everest - No Quit In Here

It was amazing, amazing to see my husband kicking obstacle ass and grinning, amazing to see the stamina and endurance of so many people engaged in helping each other complete the course, amazing to think maybe I could do it too. I watched a woman try to fly up Mt. Everest fifteen times and slide back down into the mud pit at the bottom. She made it to the top when she reached high enough to catch the hands of the people who were reaching down to catch her. The whole crowd howled in triumph. Sometimes it’s the people you meet along the way who haul your ass to the top. Nobody went over that barrier without stopping to lift a few people up after them. And that’s pretty much how I feel about life at forty. Grateful. Blessed. Humbled. Inspired. Ready to fly at the wall with my hands reaching up and willing to return the favor.

There’s a writing parallel in this experience. Although I don’t by any means feel like I’ve reached the top of Mt. Everest career-wise, I have achieved goals that others are still trying to reach. I didn’t do it alone. When I first started writing, I joined a writing group and the other members of the group lit the way, pointed out the road and then a few of them hauled my ass out of the slush pile by critiquing my work and giving me advice. I feel like I’ve learned enough by finishing a few books and going through the editing process that I now critique for others in the group. Wherever you are, whatever you do, whoever you are, there is probably someone behind you who could use a boost. Lifting others high doesn’t diminish us. Life isn’t a competition. It’s a challenge, a shared experience. And if you’re lucky, you’ll get to experience the triumph not only of reaching your own goals, but of helping others reach theirs. If you’re really lucky, there will also be beer.

Lastly, because I just can’t resist, here’s a video my awesome Muddy Buddy took of the guys going through the last challenge “Electroshock Therapy.” My husband gets zapped in the balls and his Muddy Buddy takes a nose dive through the mud. Make sure you turn the sound up!!! XOXO