Thoughts from a writing mom

Hi, my name is Christy, and I don’t drink. I used to. I used to drink kinda frequently, actually. But now I don’t.   No, I didn’t hit some ‘rock bottom’ moment, like drinking and driving and almost killing myself (or someone else.) I didn’t stop taking care of my responsibilities while drinking. I still woke up and took care of my kids every day. I just decided that it was getting to be too much. I was starting to dislike the way I felt. And I quit. I don’t drink anymore, but nothing has changed. (Except everything.) I used to be the first to say, with a laugh, “I don’t WANT to parent without alcohol!” Parenting is hard. My children are gifts that I thank God for daily, but the work involved with raising them is the hardest work I’ve ever done. ‘Mommy wine’ culture is a thing, and I was all about it. (well, I wasn’t so much a wine girl as a beer girl, but nonetheless I bought all of the 'mommy juice' sentiment that came with drinking.) I would tell myself that I deser

El Paso. Dayton. Innocents killed and it's non-sensical.  But honestly, it isn't shocking, is it? It's happened too many times now. Immediately following these tragedies I read news stories of the lives lost and feel heartache for their families. I feel anger for them. And then, I think of my kids and I am fearful.  I don't want to take them to the store, where this could happen. Or to school next week, because shootings happen at schools, too. I've seen advertisements for bulletproof backpacks this year. Bulletproof backpacks. This is our reality. It's all overwhelming and I sometimes think - okay, Jesus. You can come take us all away now. This is too much and I just want for us all to say goodbye to this Earth. That isn't the way I am supposed to feel though. Life is still a gift, even amid the suffering and amid the hard and amid the unimaginable. So, I pray. I spend time with my kids. I take them to the movies even though in the back of my mind I hav

First bit of writing I’ve done in public in a while and it’s at a busy, kid-filled splash pad.   It’s partly cloudy out so I’m actually comfortable sitting outside watching my kids now and that is not a frequent feeling in the middle of July in Texas! This week has been hard.   Frustrating - over the uphill climb of trying to clean my house, trying to deal with fighting, needy kids, picking up puppy poop and wanting-a-break-from-being-needed hard.   It’s normal stuff.   Menial.   I know. I know my puppy will eventually potty train and his messes are temporary.   I know.   I know one day it will be easier to keep house.   I know.   And I know that my kids are growing fast and that one day I will miss the chaos and the being needed.   I know. But sometimes the weight of my responsibilities is heavy and I’m feeling it this week. Despite my grumpy, feel-sorry-for-myself attitude, I’m able to move forward. Continue with my responsibilities. Take my kids to places like –

This past weekend I attended my third annual reunion with my best Navy friends – girls that I was stationed with fifteen years ago at Helicopter Mine Countermeasures Squadron 15 (HM-15) which was located at Naval Air Station Corpus Christi, TX at the time (it has since moved to Norfolk, VA.)   Some backstory on my journey to HM-15: I initially joined the Navy with the hopes of becoming a Navy JO (journalist.) I liked to write (is it obvious that I still do?)   I also was the editor-in-chief of my high school newspaper and loved it, so I wanted to continue writing in that capacity. I was told by my recruiter that the JO rate was closed, and I would have to join as something else.   Okay. I still wanted to join the Navy, so I asked the career counselor assisting me at MEPS (military entrance processing center) if he had any ideas of something exciting. “Aircrew.” He told me. “Sign me up!” I said. It sounded VERY exciting. I was game.   Months later I found myself in boot camp, set

Last night my husband and I were QUADRUPLE-booked for the evening. One kid had karate. One kid had soccer practice. One kid had a baseball game, and as parents we were scheduled for concession stand duty for our other son’s baseball team. Understandably I was worrying about how we’d get it all done. But then, our daughter’s soccer coach texted that he had a work conference call come up unexpectedly so he’d be canceling practice. YES! One less thing. My husband took my son to his game and then hit up the concession stand for duty. I took my daughter to karate with all of the other kids in tow. I was able to get to the fields to watch the last half of my son’s game and my husband was able to continue working the concession stand as our kids played outside. We keep doing this, he and I. We are crazy booked with all of these kids and their activities but we are making it all happen for them. It would be a massive lie if I told you it’s always rainbows and butterflies and we’re

I received a rejection today. Not my first, and I'm certain it will not be my last. No rejections feel great, but this one in particular stung because I really believed that this project was a good one. I thought I did well, and the one receiving it thought otherwise. So this grown 35-year-old woman cried. Big, fat tears. And whined to her husband about it.   And thought that maybe she should just quit because what is the point of all of these hours spent writing if they aren’t paying our bills, and if they aren’t even appreciated? Today felt a little more like being punched in the gut than a simple rejection. It hurt and I wallowed in it.   I let myself sit and roll around in self-pity and I’m embarrassed now and am only sharing because transparency feels like the best policy if I’m writing, you know? Briefly I felt like giving all of this up.   Quitting. I’m not good enough.   I’ve shared that with friends before, my feelings on my writing talent, or lack thereof.