Hope you all enjoy…there’s some famous people on here too!
http://www.blogtalkradio.com/kacey-on-the-radio/2011/08/19/la-famiglia#.Tk72OF69F80.mailto
La Famiglia: 100.7 WHUD THE KASEY Radio Show
August 26th, 2011
Motherhood Later than Sooner– Interview
July 19th, 2011http://blog.motherhoodlaterthansooner.com/2011/07/cyma-shapiro-chats-with-author-donna.html
Here’s a sample question from our wonderful conversation:
Q: You chart an interesting course from professional woman to CEO of your house. Can you describe this change?
A: Moving up the homemaker ladder of success takes time as it took time to climb the corporate ladder. In exchange for a business plan, you’ll be following a different set of guidelines orchestrating your Life plan—preparing for your greatest investment ever: your child. During the first few months of staying at home with my son, I was in overdrive. I set tangible goals including reading several books daily to him, in order to feel as if I was accomplishing some measurable level of success, as I had at my job. Although others were urging me to rest when my baby slept, I continued to run on autopilot. I was programmed to perform on an efficiency schedule at work, so I transferred that mindset to my motherhood role, even trying to bake homemade cookies for my guests who visited. In contrast to my job, I felt completely scattered in my homemaker role at first. There was no job description, paycheck or accolades from my boss/coworkers; no power lunches or even coffee breaks. In fact, I didn’t even know when to eat lunch and had very little social interaction. It took me a long time to learn how to simply enjoy the time with my son and celebrate the many intangible moments of play and wonder.
Youtube: a book, a dog and a pillow.
July 5th, 2011Journal News Interview at Link Below
June 23rd, 2011Check out link below on a REAL NY HOUSEWIFE!
May 25th, 2011Channel 12 News Interview for MommyBest–Please check out what I had to share about some of the 13 lessons I learned as a Mom…so far.
http://mommybestbook.blogspot.com/2011/05/news12-mommybest-interview.html.
Happy Mother’s Day–See if your journey into motherhood was like mine, different or still yet to come!
May 6th, 2011The Birth of a Mother: Each Woman’s Journey into Motherhood is Unique! Dedicated to all the moms around the world!!I’m sharing this first memoir from my book: MommyBest: 13 Inspirational Lessons Derek & Dylan’s Mom (and maybe yours) Never Learned in School. Check it out @ www.mommybestbook.com B&N or Amazon
Ever since I was a little girl, I had big dreams. I would spend hours each day listening to my radio imagining how all my dreams would come true. As the music played, my heart raced as I saw myself traveling to faraway places, becoming famous and rich, and most importantly—emerging as an independent woman.
Sometimes, before bedtime, I would share my dreams with my mother who always listened with eager and excited ears. All my dreams were a stark contrast to my Mom’s childhood dream of getting married and raising children. I couldn’t understand, given all the opportunities I had, how my mother could derive such pleasure and fulfillment from motherhood. And, since I knew all about life, so I thought, I often advised my Mom to do “more” with hers,’ besides “just being a mother.”
As I grew and went to school, I often watched my mother throughout the day. With her eyes half-opened and what we would describe today as a really “bad hair day,” she would scurry in the morning to prepare breakfast for her five children, pack our lunches, find lost items we were distraught about and mediate our arguments, not to mention the house cleaning and chauffeuring she constantly did. Mom repeated her mother’s dance of caring for everyone else’s needs throughout the day—two steps here, two steps there. I was determined not to follow her lead, especially after she had to be hospitalized several times due to a medical condition, related to exhaustion. As a youngster, unable to fully understand my mom’s bouts of exhaustion, I struggled blaming myself and even her for the times she was absent when I needed her.
So, each evening while I listened to my music, I orchestrated the course of my life—and becoming a Mom was not part of my score. Instead, I imagined traveling to faraway places while becoming a famous movie star or a powerful businesswoman.
I studied and practiced my entrepreneurial skills early on by charging my siblings a few cents for cooking such delicious breakfast meals as Mayonnaise sandwiches. I often babysat for the younger children in the neighborhood who I loved to boss around. Sometimes, I’d even help my brother deliver newspapers, especially on Sundays when I could browse through all the fashion magazines before shopping. Often, the persuasive headlines lured me into reading many of the amazing stories. The words, like music, stirred my emotions long after they were read and lingered like flavors savored after a delicious meal. I was compelled to add becoming a famous writer to my collection of dreams, a collection I examined, revised, admired and cherished in my mind each time I listened to the lyrics and rhythm of my favorite melodies.
My entrepreneurial skills strengthened as I finished high school and went on to college, continuing to work after school and waitress some nights and weekends. During my junior year, it was difficult to select a Major; I vacillated as to which career to pursue, and with so many choices, like items on a menu, I wanted to try them all.
Then, during my junior year, I saw an ad in the campus newspaper seeking Staff Reporters. With nervous excitement, I applied and was given the opportunity to cover the events affecting campus life. Each story that I covered, like parts of my life, had different pieces to fit together. I agonized for hours piecing my words together like a quilt. The first time I saw my name flashing above my words, I felt dizzy with a sense of accomplishment. So when I listened to my music, I felt as if shots of adrenalin were traveling throughout my veins at the thought of becoming a Writer.
As time went on, a few professors persuaded me, given my enthusiasm to become “independent,” to seek a more financially rewarding career. I followed their advice and decided to pursue a career in Advertising.
Still, I loved the attention my stories received from other students and faculty alike. I also felt important interviewing and reporting on the school’s major social events, and especially enjoyed receiving recognition from my boyfriend of three years and his teammates at their soccer games. Unfortunately, by my senior year, I knew that my boyfriend wanted a “traditional” wife instead of someone who wanted to explore her options, as I did.
So, as many of my friends graduated college and moved out on their own pursuing their careers and/or marriage, I returned to my parent’s home—unable to find my coveted advertising job and not really sure which direction to turn. All my other siblings moved out of “the nest” and my Dad was still working full time plus extra hours.
I began to spend time with my Mom, the one person I had really drifted apart from during my rebellious teenage years. At first, it was awkward connecting with her. We talked many nights about how I felt when, during my growing years, she had been sick several times and away from the family. It was painfully obvious that she was devastated recalling the times when she was recovering in the hospital. Now mature, I was finally able to better understand how exhausted my Mom was having five children—one right after the other, including twins. She did the best she could under some very stressful conditions. From our discussion and some tears, we were able to move to a deeper relationship. We started having late night talks again as we had when I was younger; but now it felt as if we were girlfriends sharing our secrets. She became my cheerleader, always excited about what was going on in my life.
After countless interviews and several “in-between” jobs, a lucrative advertising company hired me as a Sales Representative; Ecstatic about my opportunity, Mom shopped for days with me for a new wardrobe. As she scavenged through all the racks of clothes, I reminisced about all our shopping trips we went on while I was growing up. Each year before school started, Mom would take my sisters and I to the department stores to buy five new outfits, one for each day of the school week. And she would buy us “only the best of shoes” because she didn’t want us to become “flat-footed.”
Yet, Mom rarely bought any clothes for herself or for my father, a New York City Firefighter who often worked 24-hour shifts, always graciously handing most of his earnings to Mom each week. As I watched him place money into her hand, I made a conscious decision to strive to become fiscally self-reliant.
Although my parents financially struggled, neither of them ever complained about their lack of material things, or for the amount of money they spent on us. Sometimes, during the holiday season, my mother’s favorite time of the year, my parents would secure a bank loan so we could have a lot of the things that “they never had as kids.” Even though we were far from rich, friends who saw our clothes and bicycles, for example, thought we were.
Once I started my new job, I began to feel like a kid again. Mom would have dinner and her listening ears waiting when I got home. She wanted to know all about my day: the people I met; the sales I made; and the places I visited. I knew Mom was vicariously living some of my experiences; I enjoyed all the attention. When I had enough money to buy a place of my own, it was difficult to leave.
So, in preparation of my independence– and for a much needed break from working days and evenings, making sales quotas and meeting deadlines- I planned the European trip I dreamt of as a little girl watching movies of women traveling abroad, often discovering themselves and romance.
Even though my Mom, like me, is petrified to fly, she offered to accompany me on my journey. I knew I had to go alone. I booked the trip as part of a tour group so I would have some direction and companionship. Days before my scheduled departure, I listened for hours to my favorite Italian songs, including “Three Coins in a Fountain” and “Volare.” Although I was advised to travel “light,’ I spent days before my trip shopping with my Mom.
When the departure time came, I was petrified. There was a lot of turbulence during the beginning of the flight, but the ride became calmer, as did I.
It wasn’t long before I was standing in Saint Mark’s Square in Venice with pigeons adorning my head and shoulders. When I sat down for a cup of cappuccino, I was part of a magnificent audience serenaded by string instruments. As I listened to the music, my own heartstrings were strummed. I remembered how I longed for this moment since I was a little girl listening to music and dreaming of traveling to faraway places – except now those places were near.
As my soul soared, a waiter graciously placed a complimentary cup of cappuccino in front of me. An admirer sitting nearby had ordered it. I raised my head and looked for the wealthy European I dreamt of meeting. A young man stood before me. He was an American tourist who, ironically, thought I was European. There were no romantic sparks, but I had met a friend. We shared some highlights from our trip with each other before I returned to my hotel to prepare for the scheduled gondolier ride with my tour group.
Under the glow of the moon, the other tourists and I boarded the gondolier. We were all relaxed sitting beside the glistening waters as we were serenaded. I felt vitalized and tranquil at the same time. I also had the feeling someone was staring at me; it was the same feeling I had for much of the tour, but I was too busy to acknowledge it. But this night, the watchful gaze—against the starlight and music—was recognized. The azure eyes did belong to a European this time. Still, he wasn’t the rich man I dreamt about either. The admirer was our tour bus driver. Even though he spoke only a few words of English, we spent the remainder of my stay together. As the bus driver resided in Rome, he gave me a personal tour of all the sights, ending with the Trevi Fountain, which, ironically, was under construction, as I felt I had been.
I threw in many coins in and made many wishes—as well as expressions of gratitude for the experiences I shared with some wonderful people, especially the bus driver from Rome! Needless to say, weeks passed as if they were only days and my departure came. It was difficult boarding the plane, saying goodbye to my European adventure and my personal tour guide.
Like a kid looking in a candy store window, Mom was waiting at the airport for me. Her eyes scoped the crowd at the arrival gate. “Donna, Donna,” she screamed! “You’re glowing.” I was aglow! Weeks after my trip, coworkers continued to tell me that I looked different, and I felt different.
Without realizing it, I was ready to journey within and see my life anew. Once I listened to my inner voice, the one that’s connected to my heart and guides me to joyful places, my life, like dominoes, began to fall into place.
Soon, I moved out of my childhood home and purchased a two-bedroom condominium. My Mom and I were very emotional on moving day, but we both understood the closeness we established would always be near, even when we are apart.
Filled with so much vitality and excitement, I pursued my career, working well into the evenings. One night while working late, a new sales representative called the office for his messages. I answered and we talked for over two hours. He asked if he could see the photos I had taken in Europe. I obliged.
For our date, he arrived with a single white rose. We went to a restaurant similar to the ones I had visited in Europe—filled with the aroma of freshly ground coffee beans. The cozy, round tables were covered with paper clothes; each table had a container filled with crayons. After several hours of conversation, accompanied by scrumptious food, we sipped our cappuccinos while viewing the photos. My date asked me to use one of the crayons to make a list of the important qualities I want in a husband and he would do the same for a wife. Amazingly, when we compared our lists, they were almost identical.
With paper in hand, we went for a drive to a nearby park for a brisk walk. I was given a piggyback ride through a beautifully wooded forest where a white-tailed deer leaped out in front of us just as my date kissed me. Without speaking, we looked at each other knowing this deer was somehow symbolic, even magical.
That evening when I listened to my music, I thought about the romance I sought on my European vacation, around the world. Then, practically in my own backyard, I met the man of “my dreams.” In contrast with my lavish trip, my date and I were in a park filled with greenery and the beauty of nature and its amazing creatures. The clusters of trees, all leading to different paths seemed to hold many surprises and many hopes.
One surprise was finding myself back at school pursuing a Masters Degree in Education. Teaching, a profession women stereotypically work at, was not the occupation I dreamt about as a young businesswoman. Yet, it was a profession that I now felt would allow me to contribute more to the world on behalf of children. I soon learned my students often taught me lessons about life. I was amazed by how intelligent and genuine they are. They became my family with whom I shared much of my life with.
When I accepted a marriage proposal from the man who kissed me in the park, my students were so happy, as was my mother. My Mom understood I wasn’t like several of my friends who began planning for their weddings when they were teenagers. I never dreamt of getting married. And the men who I had thought I might possible wed one day, soon wanted me to change myself, in some way—whether it was to sacrifice my career aspirations or distance myself from my girlfriends. Now I met someone who loved me exactly as I am and supported my goals—whatever they were. Some call it kismet, others destiny?
I soon learned why some women start early in life planning their weddings. I discovered it was exciting yet exhausting planning for “the Big Day.” The entire event was surreal until I found myself walking down the aisle. As I moved forward I walked along a path, viewing as I would a movie, many of the important people in my life, including some of my students, to the altar where my husband-to-be waited for us to embark on our journey.
The following year, we decided to start a family and instantly everything just “fell into place:” My husband and I were having a baby! Unlike many of my previous business decisions I often contemplated, analyzing lots of information, I simply followed my instincts; it felt “right “. The news prompted my students to plan a surprise shower for me. I couldn’t believe (nor could my mother) I was going to be a Mom. Since I was absolutely positive I would be having a girl, it was the biggest surprise of my life when I gave birth to a son.
The instant I held him, I felt a bond like no other—a bond that reached into the depths of my soul, beyond expression, beyond comprehension. I realized along with a baby, a mother had been born– a parent was in the making.
As I looked into my son’s innocent eyes, I knew I had always been destined to become a mother, even though I hadn’t been ready to acknowledge this while I was achieving all the goals I was determined to accomplish. I was too scared of losing my own identity and too busy proving I was someone “more” and something “else.”
Although I had taken a different road than the one my mother followed toward motherhood, I realized we both arrived at our destinations on time– the time that was right for each of us. We are two women, similar in some ways and different in others, somewhat products of the eras that we grew-up in, somewhat products of our unique personas.
Now, as I listen to my music, my heart soars as I dream dreams for my son:
Who will he become? What will he enjoy doing? Which paths will he follow? How shall I guide him? How will he guide me?
As his mother, I am embarking upon an amazing journey-like no other journey I’ve been on– one toward true self-discovery! I begin this journey with a deep love, gratitude and respect for one who has traveled through the precarious terrain and rough waters of motherhood before me, my own mother. I understand her sacrifice and love –and now perceive her as a woman of greatness for all she has given to her children.
I also recognize I am becoming more of an independent person by pursuing my dreams-as my son has helped me to find a new voice in my writing. I must bring to him the best person I can be first, and then I’ll be the best “Mommy” to him– when my choices reflect who I am at any given moment in my life. No matter which direction my path turns, I am a mother. I am Derek’s Mom—now and forever!
Moms and those who care about them: Bring this list for your annual physical. It helped me discover a health concern
April 16th, 2011Sorry, on this post, WordPress decided to add its own additional s p a c e s….
We all hear so much about the importance of women, moms in particular, putting their own health on the infamous “to do” list. The phrase, “you have to take care of yourself first,” has almost become cliché for us ladies who constantly hear this advice from doctors. But the simple truth is we often don’t; moms frequently ignore symptoms of ill-health, usually addressing them only when they impact their ability to care for others.
Several years ago, I experienced constant and severe stomach bloating and pain–which occasionally still persists. To recount my experience with the many doctors and myriad of tests, along with conflicting diagnosis would not only bore you, but put me in a depressed state, which is not what this blog post it all about. It’s about empowering you and those you love to take charge, at least to some degree, of your own health.
Still, I have to briefly share a little of my history in order to explain my current perspective of trusting your Mother’s Instinct in researching your own health–and understanding sometimes we have to wait for answers: When, after two years of repeat endoscopies, ultra sounds and scans of all sorts, the doctors disagreed on whether the cause of my pain was a hiatel hernia they discovered, gastric polyps, Celiac disease or Irritable Bowel Syndrome (a common diagnosis when doctors don’t know what’s causing stomach upset), I became immobilized about how to get help for my pain. Nothing was working so I stopped seeing doctors for many months. I often couldn’t sleep because my stomach was in so much pain, not to mention my mind-wandering thoughts, wondering if I had an undetected fatal disease that would one day rear its ugly cells.
In an effort to take charge of my health, I started seeing an acupuncturist. I felt more relaxed afterwards for sure, but I struggled with the placement of some of the needles as they were so uncomfortable. I went for eleven visits while also taking several herbal concoctions they created for me. Unfortunately, many of the herbs made my stomach even more upset. Although I do believe in the philosophy and merits of acupuncture, I stopped my treatments because they weren’t helping my stomach pain–and they were very expensive, not covered by my insurance.
So began a lifestyle of trial and error in my avoidance of different foods, along with eating smaller meals. I started taking a probiotic, and after many more months, had more blood work taken which revealed I had untreated Lyme’s disease. Whether or not this caused my stomach upset is still undetermined. But, along with the dietary changes I’ve made, and the antibiotics to treat the Lyme, I have more relief. My doctor doesn’t believe in prolonged treatment with antibiotics, so I’m finished for now. Still, to say there are many theories and “specialists” who charge thousands of dollars for treating Lyme’s Disease in an understatement.
I also read several health books, including those written by Dr. Amen (seen on public television). I copied a list of blood work he recommended for female patients. I brought this list to my general physician and he ordered all but the food allergy tests.
Interestingly I, for the first time, had a Vitamin D deficiency (maybe from all the cloudy days here in the Northeast?) So, now I’m taking a supplement to balance my “sunshine” level. I have come to the conclusion that managing my health is a constantly-changing, ever-evolving state of being as is our existence. I will have to modify my regimen by paying close attention to my own needs. I also pray for good doctors–and dentists to come into my life when I, or anyone in my family, needs them.
Since I have met so many moms who are having health issues, I’m listing the blood work I had done as a reference point (you too can check Dr. Amen’s books for this) for my readers here. Of course, verify with your doctors and get their professional advice. I simply want to help other women get as much empowering information as possible to SPRING into health this season:
**Lab Work to test for:
~Complete blood count
~Fasting Chemistry–metabolic panel
~B12
~Folate
~25-Hydroxy Vitamin D
~C-Reactive Protein
~Homocysteine
~Lipid Panel
~Fasting Insulin
~Hemoglobin AIC
~Thyroid Panel–TSH, Free T3, Free T4, Thyroid Antibodies gland, Thyroid antibodies hormone
~DHEA-5
~Food allergy
~Fatty acid profile to check omega 3 fatty acids
~Free and total serum testosterone
~Estradiol and Progesterone levels* Women 45 and over for this test.
**This list is copied and not intended as “expert” medical advice, so everyone check with your doctors.
Saying Goodbye to Papa “J”
March 30th, 2011 When my sister-in-law called to share Papa “J” wanted us to visit him, we knew it was time. It was time for my husband and I to take our kids to spend some precious moments with him, moments he may never recall. You see, Papa “J” is in the grips of a mentally, emotionally and physically debilitating disease that overcomes even the fiercest men and women, notably including one of our nation’s former Presidents, Ronald Reagan. Alzheimer’s disease is heartbreaking for it’s victims and the families they often don’t even recognize as time goes by.
We knew for a while that Papa “J” was becoming more and more forgetful and seemingly lost. His wife, my childrens’ grandma who past away over a year ago, helped by often reminding him of his fleeting thoughts. While his long term memory remains in tact, his short-term memory fails him. Before our visit, we hadn’t experienced first-hand the impact this has on his daily routine and in the scheme of his entire livelihood.
We were ill-prepared and unsure what to expect upon arrival. Great start when we were greeted by Papa “J” waiting for us outside his home. There he was sitting with his cane in hand–he wears braces on both legs as a result of having a dual operation for prostate cancer and several herniated discs. He became immobilized and lost feeling in parts of both legs so the braces were added for stabilization.
“HEY, you guys are finally here; Let’s go to the local seafood restaurant for dinner,” chanted Papa “J.” He was the picture of health–for an 81 year old that is. And our dog, who we brought on her first long distance trip, fell instantly in love with this man with the cane. He reciprocated barking back and teasing her with his “walking stick.”
Once we got settled in, we happily drove to the restaurant, and I recall thinking, ”maybe some of our fears resulting from incidents involving Papa “J”s memory loss could be allayed for awhile given his seemingly confident, cogent and relaxed demeanor.” He didn’t seem like the man who paid disreputable landscape contractors thousands of dollars for work they never did because they lied to him-knowing he is easy prey for a good con. Nor did he seem like the man who, a few months earlier, drove to Georgia to visit my sister-in-law, arrived at her home, then immediately left and drove the entire way back home because he forgot why, what, and where he was supposed to be? These incidents had prompted us to contact the police and served as a wake-up call to how lost Papa “J” often is.
Now, he didn’t seem lost at all. I listened as he explained to my husband where the restaurant was and about all the different activities in the area. He shared lots about his past with my kids and was able to recall so much of his history.
Once inside the restaurant, the situation changed. Papa “J” asked us several times where we were. At first, my children giggled because they thought he was kidding. Once we told him where we were, he responded the same way he would the next week we spent with him–each time he didn’t know what was going on, “Oh, yeah, that’s what I thought.”
And so began the realization and understanding that although it appears that Papa “Js” long-term memory is in tact, his short-term memory is not, and at times is worse than others. Worst of all, I can see his fear and sadness, and occasionally, the anger, each time he’s unable to recollect who, what or where we are.
Each day he’d awake spirited like a little kid, asking what we were going to do, followed by what we wanted to eat for dinner. These same questions were repeatedly asked throughout the day–as were many other inquiries he continued to echo. At times, he even forgot my children’s names.
We had to throw out much of the expired food in the refrigerator and buy many daily items he didn’t have, including laundry detergent. Surprisingly, his extra refrigerator in the garage housed about 200 frozen prepared meals for breakfast, lunch and dinner, which he eats on a daily basis–when he remembers to eat.
Yet, this once World War II Vet, fondly remembers times with his wife–and even guided us to her gravesite to visit, two hours away. We spent several joyous moments laughing at silly things in life including mimicking our dog. We shopped and went out to dinner often and watched a few movies with him. Although he shared he loves to go on walks, when we went with him, he could only walk down one block before having to sit down. I could see how disappointed he was–this former long-distance track star! As always, I joked with him about eating more fiber to get his legs moving next time, and we giggled : )
When it was time to leave, it was difficult. He asked if we could stay, maybe come back in a week or so. We all knew that our next visit would be to move him out of this home he loves to an assisited living facility, closer to family. Watching our parents, grow old, is so very “hard to do.”
Last Year’s Best Christmas Present: Part 1
December 8th, 2010This is a re-post of a lost entry! Many parents shared how special it’s been to welcome a pet into their family. Here’s our story–Part 1..
Our boys, now 14 and 12, started asking Santa for a dog since they were toddlers. And yes, so many years ago that they began asking us–since they (for some strange reason) started believing my husband and I became “Mr. & Mrs. Claus.” I continue to tell my boys I believe in Santa’s magic–and they better believe in it too, or else they will receive the infamous stocking filled with coal, the booby prize my parents threatened my brothers, sisters and I with for dissing Santa.
Unfortunately, I was diagnosed with a severe allergy to dogs, so that limited our selection as well as our intent to “rescue” a dog from an animal shelter because there’s a long wait for what’s labeled “hypoallergenic” breeds. Plus, our lives for many years became so chaotic, running from school and sports activities while managing my husband’s full-time career with juggling my profession. I often felt as if I was “missing” some sort of parenting gene because I just couldn’t handle so many tasks and do them WELL. So, once our family adjusted our lifestyle and our boys became pre-teens, my husband and I began entertaining this dog idea. When we told other parents about our wishes, we received tons of advice on where to buy our puppy, what type of dog to buy, and, of course, I, as the MOM, was barraged by warnings of how much of the responsibility would become mine: “It’s like having another baby, you’ll see,” was echoed often. Still, I am the type of person and mother who likes to find out things for herself. A new addition to our family seemed “right,” so two Christmases ago we started our search, and, as is often the case in life, I began meeting people to guide me. Most influential was a pet store owner who also did dog rescue. She educated me about different breeds and dog care, and I could sense immediately that she truly LOVED animals; the pets were not caged in her store. Instead, they roamed freely and were grouped with each other for sleeping in comfortable areas. Also, I met another mom dropping her child off at school. She had an adorable dog sitting in the passenger’s seat. When I asked her where she purchased the white furry puppy, she shared her wonderful experience at the pet store I’m referring to. Ready to buy that “puppy in the window,” we took a few trips to this pet store and others with our kids to get a sense of which dogs they were drawn to from the list of breeds that were allergy friendly. At first, our boys only wanted a white dog called a Havanese, which we couldn’t find. Then they started loving a few Yorkies we held. I really liked some of the puppies, but I have to admit, I am a romantic in the true sense of the word. I told my husband I wanted the dog to “pick us” and we would pick her (him). I can’t explain what I was expecting; it would sort of be as if we were drawn to each other immediately. That didn’t happen for me or for my husband the first Christmas we went without the kids–who we wanted to surprise desperately. I know the boys would have loved almost any dog they received, but it had to be a family affair.
That Christmas, our boys were very excited by the gifts we bought for them to compensate as much as we could for not getting them the puppy. Still, something was missing! We promised them they would– one day–have a family dog. Fast forward (it comes that quickly anyway) to last Christmas. After a few trips to the pet stores again with little success, I urged my husband to take me to my favorite pet store one more time, the week before Christmas. I just had that feeling, mother’s instinct, Santa’s magic….that we would find our dog. I shared my feelings with my husband who gave me that look he always shares when he thinks I’m being unrealistic.
I literally took a deep breath as I looked into the store’s front window where a group of puppies were huddled together sleeping. All of them were black except one who had reddish, auburn hair with blond highlights (the same as mine with no gray)LOL. My mouth was agape and my heart was racing with excitement. I looked at my husband who was so smitten wearing a smile wider than the “Joker.” I warned him to “wipe that grin off your face, so the price doesn’t go up.” We gathered our composure and entered the store. That pet smell was everywhere, and I immediately became congested. Calm and cool, I waved to the store owner, who recognized my familiar face and thinks I am there for yet another one of my non-purchasing visits. Ahhh, she doesn’t know this one is different. I calmly walked over the the window to look at the new arrivals. MY little puppy dashed over to me so fast that she spilled the water dish. The store owner called out, “That’s Red! We just got her yesterday.” And I said to myself, “She’s not ‘Red,” She’s MINE!
MommyBest Blog: What’s my intent?
November 30th, 2010As I’m sure is the case with most writers, especially if they have published books and/or “write for a living,” they have little time to do what they love best: WRITE for themselves–and hopefully, to informally speak to their audience! My writer’s voice has been lost among stacks of files I have created in an effort to sort, what’s been for me, a wave of technological mayhem from e-books to social media venues and the rules of engagement for each. For someone who is still learning the magical appts (oops, I think it’s apts or apps?) that her cell phone is capable of, I truly feel as if I’m under water gasping for breath from HTML, to links, to RSS –okay that’s enough,…I’m already hyperventillating–or is it hyperlinking LOL. (I used to think LOL meant lots of love).
So, for me, back to basics. This MommyBest Blog will be a way for me and all of you to share our experiences growing as a mom and as a human being, always evolving and learning life lessons. My first book, MommyBest: 13 Inspirational Lessons Derek & Dylan’s Mom (and maybe yours) Never Learned in School…Book 1 is a combination of heartfelt motherhood stories along with the lessons I learned. Unique to my book are “Reader Reflection” pages which allow moms to share their own notes to save or later use as a springboard in creating their own mommy memoir to share with their children. In this way, I will use the MommyBest Blog as a stepping stone to develop longer prose, possibly for my MommyBest…Book 2…I invite all of you to share your insights, triumphs and struggles on your journey to becoming your MommyBest or in encouraging someone else to….Maybe we could be neighbors in spirit. And maybe, just maybe, I could borrow a cup of sugar or at least share a cup of coffee as we chat together on here : )Donna