Because of you...

I know I've been M.I.A. lately, but let me explain...

We haven't made it public knowledge (mostly because pity makes me break out in hives), but my husband and I lost our home in Super Storm Sandy. Though, we consider ourselves lucky; the things that really mattered weren't harmed. My kids and husband have their health, and we have each other. The rest is kind of self explanatory.

Which brings me to the whole point of this post. People are amazing. Truly. It's a shame that it takes a natural disaster to see it sometimes, but some things, like generosity and selflessness, are still around in abundance. We've had family donate time, money, and furniture, and friends from across the world send us warm thoughts and incredible gifts (I'll never forget what you did for us, Laura. Please know that.).

We watched entire communities band together to help those less fortunate. Some cooked, some cleaned, and some even opened their homes to complete strangers. No matter how low you get, or how impossible things seem, there is always someone who is waiting and wiling to help. In turn, never think that what you have to give is not enough. Sometimes it's the smallest gifts that mean the most.

Now that the dust has finally settled, I'm ready to jump back in with both feet. I've gotten back in touch with a close friend, written something new, tweeted, and now I've blogged. Call it baby steps :) I can't wait to see what happens next!

Hooray for the unknown!

-Ali

Old news, memorable moments...

During these last five years, I've learned that all things come full circle, especially the crap you pulled as a child. Let me take this opportunity to apologize to my mother... again. And offer my condolences to my own children, who are really in for it when they are parents themselves.

Here is a top five list of the wild things they've done, just so you get the picture.

5- I've scrubbed (insert shudder here) poop off the walls on more than one occasion. Side note: there are now crayons in every room of the house in case my daughter feels the need to be "creative" again.

4- I've cleaned fruitloops- and poor, deceased fish- out of our family fish tank. This is a personal favorite of mine, if only because of my son's reaction when I woke up and caught them "feeding" the fish. He puts his little hands in the air and goes "Ok, Momma, now don't get mad..."

3- There's the time my oldest stuck a paper towel in the toaster and I had to rip the flaming thing out of the wall, hurl it out the back door, and then let the fire inspector inside in my bathrobe. Oh, and I was nine months pregnant.

2- My daughter snuck into the fridge and decided to "make" breakfast for her and her brothers. This included milk on the rug, cereal in the bed, and raw egg EVERYWHERE! Another side note: This started a whole butt-load of hoarding adventure. There are far too many to list, but use your imagination. Trust me, you won't be far off.

1- And probably the best- and least destructive- moment of all was when my daughter painted my son's toenails florescent pink. In his sleep. With a sharpie.

I'm sure it comes as no surprise that I no longer sleep, and recently found my first gray hair. But hey, at least I'll never run short of writing material! I love you my crazy, amazing kids!!!

Hooray for wonderful mayhem!

-Ali

A moment of silence...

All morning long, I've been trying to come up with words for today. I've got nothing. Instead, I'm offering up a long moment of silence in honor of those who lost their lives 11 years ago today, as well as those who have been fighting for our freedom ever since. To the brave and true and missed, thank you.

From the bottom of my heart, thank you.

-Ali

And so it begins...

It's that time of year again. Yellow school buses prowl the streets while red, orange, and almost green leaves cover the yard. There's that chill creeping in that just makes you want to bake something. Halloween decorations are everywhere. Electric bills are climbing down from "holy cow" to "I can actually pay that!"Fall used to be my favorite season.

And now I want to punch it in the child-stealing nose!

My two oldest had their first day of preschool last Thursday. Yeah, sure, this is a momentous occasion I should be savoring. I mean, I'm drinking hot coffee and writing on my blog at 10:30 in the morning. Hot coffee? Quiet house? Baby sleeping in? There's something wrong with this picture!

Where's my writing noise? Most people write to music or a ticking clock. Me? I write to a melody of little running feet and a chorus of "Mom! Momma! Mommy!!!" Without it I'm lost. (Image puppy eyes and a pouty lip here.)

The only upside to this is that the kids adore school! They couldn't wait to go last week, and Zandr woke up at 6am both Saturday and Sunday begging to go. Friends and books and wonderful teachers who give him food? What more can a kid ask for! Kyleigh, on the other hand, wasn't as eager this morning. She wanted me (YES!). The aide literally had to rip her out of my arms. This was so. not. cool! There are no words for that moment. A couple of girls I used to go to school with were talking in the parking lot after the aide shooed me out, and tried to have an adult conversation with me. They took in the fact that I was an emotional train wreck and laughed. "You are such a preschool mom!" said the one. Yes, yes I am.

And now I'm off to wear a hole in the floor whilst I pace. Come on, 3:30!

-Ali

Simple Joys...

So today a friend of mine asked me (at 2:30 am whilst I was working) how I do it all. By all, she meant raising 3 kids (and a husband), working 2 jobs, keeping a semi clean home AND writing a novel. She was the third or forth person to ask me that this week alone. My reply varied from "because I love my kids" to "you do what you gotta do." But in my head, my first response (which I always edit because pity makes me break out in hives) was "I have no freakin' idea! I'm so tired I could curl up on your shoes and sleep for a week!"

See? I think my shrug and non-answers are the better choice.

Yes, I'm exhausted, but it won't be like this forever. My husband let me stay home with the kids while I was between jobs, and now it's his turn. I have to leave them everyday, but I also get to come home and see their wonderful, excited faces every night. All three of my kids stay up until I can read them a book and tuck them in. This is amazing. Those sleepy kisses are what keeps me going.

And even though Daddy is home, they still want Momma. That little fact shouldn't make me so happy, but it does. I feel wanted; needed. Sometimes that's all a person needs to jump start their "motivation" gene.

Right now, I'm writing with one hand while holding my 13 month old as he eats a Gerber granola bar. It's the happiest I've been all day. Weird? Maybe :)

Hooray for the simple and wonderful!

-Ali

A break from my high-speed hilarity

As the morning progressed, several ideas for today's blog ran through my head. I could write about the ridiculous things I found in even more ridiculous places, or the little corner of our living room that my daughter has made into her own personal haven. I could write about the seven quick-changes baby girl made every time she went down the hall into her bedroom, or the woman-beast war I just had with my 75 pound lab in the backyard. And maybe they will all appear in a different post one day, but for now, there is something a little more serious that I wanted to get off my chest.

I'm sure every parent feels like they have failed their children at one time or another. I constantly have that nagging feeling in the back of my mind, this week in particular. I'm convinced that if there was a program that could read your future and display it for a committee (yes, this is the sci-fi, distopian side of my brain talking), they would have confiscated my uterus so I wouldn't have had the chance to procreate.

And here is why:

On Friday an incident ensued in my household that involved tears and blood and five stitches in my four year old son's right pinkie. I was in the shower when it happened. Not only should I have been there to stop this, but the responsible parties should have known better. I should have taught them better. Either way you look at it, it was essentially my fault.

Which leads me to the point of all of this.

Not a one of us is perfect. We are human. That title gives us the right to screw up every now and then. And even though I feel like the worst Mommy in the whole wide world right now, I have been blessed with the opportunity to learn from this and do better next time. I have also been blessed with very forgiving, loving, beautiful children who love me despite my gray spots.

And hide sit-on bouncy balls under the sink to remind me that life goes on.

-Ali

More antics

So today I'm feeding the baby when my husband leans out of my sons room and calls "honey, do you know what the hell is all over in here?" Knowing my children, I can only imagine. I go back to spooning Gerber spaghetti into my hungry little one, hoping my husband will handle it.

Two hours later I go in to help my son clean his room, and there it is... Diaper innards... Everywhere! I'm talking the little absorbent beads that suck up the pee. They're stuck to the wall, splattered on the window, ground into the carpet, and my personal favorite, dripping from the ceiling.

My husband comes in when I start yelling. I tell him what they are and watch the horror creep across his face. He shudders and says "good luck with that." And then he leaves.

Just another day in paradise!

-Ali

Creative Juices

I am always in awe of my children, but there are some days where the things they do and say have me scrapping my jaw off the floor. My three year old daughter, for example, has more creativity in her little finger than I do in my whole body. And more personality than a prime-time sitcom.

Yesterday my husband and I took the kids to the store to get them out of the house. This in itself is an ordeal. Before she makes the thirty foot trip from the front door to the truck, my little girl has to pick every single dandelion in the yard. Said dandelions must fit a certain criteria. The ones that haven't fully bloomed yet are deemed "mommy's." All the rest are bunched up in her left hand.

It is tradition, and it must happen for her to function. So just imagine her shock when she walks outside to find a freshly mowed yard and (brace yourself) no dandelions. Baby girl stops in her tracks, scans the yard again to make sure she saw things right, and bursts into tears.

"Daddy killed my flowers!" she screams. The man walking his dog turns to give me a knowing smile.

"It's okay, honey, they will grow back," I promise.

Another high pitched sob echoes down the street. "But I want those flowers!" The neighbor checking his mailbox stops to watch. "Where is the lawn eater? Get them out!" She is so devastated that the "lawn eater" has her weeds that I can't even get mad at the foot stomping.

It is time to think on my feet, because it is getting late, and if we don't get to the store, my husband insists he will wither away to nothing. I do a quick scan of the yard myself, and thank the good Lord, there is a small patch of yellow under the boat trailer. I wiggle myself underneath, trying to ignore the horror movie-like spiderwebs next to my left ear, and pick every last one.

I hand them over.

She gets in the truck like nothing ever happened.

Calgon take me away! And bring chocolate...

And Vodka...

-Ali

The Writer's Voice

Somehow, with a child on my lap and another tugging at my arm, I managed to squeeze myself into this awesome contest called "The Writer's Voice" at number 98. I'm quite literally scared out of my mind! Oh sure, I want others to meet my characters, but I feel a certain vulnerability in sharing my query letter. So it is with shaking hands that I post it here, along with my first 250 words.

Hooray for doing something bold today!

Query

     Being a third generation Enhanced, Clair Donahue's future has already been written. Thanks to genetics and the WTPC, she would turn eighteen and become a car mechanic like her mother. But after testing much too high for her parentage, Clair jumps at the chance to choose a career all her own. She knows rejection means placing her occupation in the hands of the World Technological Pharmaceutical Corporation.

      What she doesn’t know is how long they have been waiting for her to take that risk.

      Now that Clair’s dream of the medical profession has been refused, the WTPC reveal that she is to become a Harvester of Phenomenon, to rid their new world of supernatural fear. The serums used to Enhance one’s physical aspects needed in their specific fields have kept many from passing on after death, creating a fortified soul capable of entering the human body and erasing the person inside.

      And now it is Clair‘s job to collect them.

      Flanked by her deadly smart boyfriend, Evan, and her ever-present best friend, Matt, Clair has two weeks to choose between facing her future head on, or leaving everything she has ever known behind her. Staying means being internally assaulted by the Phenomenon; running means sacrificing what is left of her family and her freedom.

 

 

 

 

First 250

The voice of the news anchor droned on in the living room as we waited. Superior hearing aside, I couldn’t make out his words over the pounding of my heart. Each minute felt like its own hour as I stared at the inoffensive white envelope resting against my untouched water glass.

            “Clair,” my mother soothed in her melodic voice. I had forgotten there were other people in the world, let alone the stuffy little kitchen. “It doesn’t matter what it says.” Her emerald green eyes held the same certainty as her words, but they did nothing to calm me. It did matter.

            “That’s right, silly girl,” Matt grinned, his rumbling baritone filling the room. “It’s not like this is the deciding factor for the rest of your life or anything.” My mother shook her head as I let a nervous chuckle slip.

            “Gee, thanks, best friend,” I said with as much sarcasm as I could muster, placing both hands over my heart to keep it from busting through my chest.

            Matt peered over his habitually worn sunglasses, his dark eyes alive and penetrating. "That thing has been sitting there for a week. Staring at it won't change what it says."

            I let his truth sink in for a moment, cursing myself for the thousandth time for being foolish enough to request a career outside of my bloodline, no matter how badly I wanted it. No matter the fact I had been instructed to do so by each of my professors, hearing them say over and over how my intellect was rare for my parentage.

Best of luck to those who entered!

-Ali

A little alone time...

In my house, the hope of privacy is so long gone that it's comical. I can't remember the last time I took a shower without a baby monitor or a toddler checking to see what I was doing. And potty time? Let's just say even a locked door can't keep my little ones (or my husband) at bay for very long.

That being said, my writing time usually consists of me juggling a child or two on my lap while they juggle a bowl of cereal and a cuppy. I'm getting rather good at typing with one hand, and even better rushing pages out in the twenty or so minutes my kids are distracted by the television. Right now, my little girl is lounging across me, holding her mouth open so I can feed her cereal, even though she is fully capable of doing this herself. And since I am Mommy, that is exactly what I am doing.

And I don't mind one bit, because childhood is fleeting. Next thing I know, my babies will be teenagers, and these precious moments will be nothing but fond memories. Maybe it will be easier to finish a book with a quiet house and an empty lap, but I am more than wiling to wait fifteen years to find out!

Enjoy those little moments!

-Ali

Managing the Madness

It may come as a shock to some people, but I am only human. I say this because most people know me as the "smiley girl who works midnights at Wawa, who then goes home to a houseful of children." I absolutely love my kids, and I truly enjoy my job, but there are times that tubbies and meals and peek-a-boo and hide and seek and dress up and laundry and dishes and vacuuming and mopping and cutting the grass and making coffee and scrubbing the deli at work and walking the dogs and keeping that smile on my face all while trying to keep up my marriage and writing a novel really gets to me. I mean, a girl can only run so far on a pot of coffee.

I write this because it feels good to admit weakness sometimes. It's almost therapeutic. So here is me, lying on the ground with life laying across my chest, tapping out. I am down for the count, at least for today. But tomorrow? Who knows!

I hope good ol' life gives you a break today!

-Ali

NaNoWriMo

Yes, it is that crazy time of year once again where writers all over the world try to write an entire novel in just thirty days. Am I going to participate? Absolutely. Am I going to finish my novel in thirty days?

Ha! (picture me rolling on the floor in a fit of hysteria.)

I think the main goal of this exercise is to stretch yourself as a writer, commit more time to actually getting work done. Now this is something I can handle. So happy writing to all who are participating, and good luck to all the agent who will be bombarded next month!

Back to work!
-Ali

My friend, the delete button...

I can't tell you how many times I've heard- or read- people say that you need to write whatever comes into you head, no matter how bad it is. Regardless of the fact you know you will never use any of it. And I, being the good little "follower" I am, listen. I write whatever crappy idea happens to pop up. That is why no one could ever read my first drafts. I jump from the end, to the middle, the the middle-end, back to the beginning, and so on and so on... Riddled with holes, my pages read more like Swiss cheese.

And stink like Gouda.

The real magic is going through and finding those little jewels hidden in the mud. I think every author has that moment when they re-read their work and think "I wrote that? Really?" Personally, I love it when that happens. It makes it that much easier to sit back down and try to do it better.

My point is, nothing in this life is easy. It all takes time and patience and practice. That, and a heck of a lot of good luck. And now, I'm off to add some more awful ideas to my painfully terrible WIP.

Hooray for progress!

-Ali

When life hands you basil...

Sometimes, when things are going too smoothly in my household, my kids will come up with the darnedest things to keep me on my toes. At 5 am, my 3 year old wakes me up after he had a nightmare and wakes up the baby. The three of us snuggle on the couch and fall asleep. At about 8 am, I hear my daughter's door open. And then I fall back asleep.

Five minutes later I wake up to the smell of Italian food, and look up just in time to see my 2 year old little girl standing on a kitchen chair, emptying a bottle of paprika into the fish tank. By her feet are the empty bottles of oregano and basil.

My husband said she was helping me decide what was for dinner. Rest in peace little fish!

-Ali

Where to begin?

I've never been very good at having a real, one-on-one conversation. Blame it on my philosophy as a hermit. I'd be perfectly happy stuck at home with my laughing children and clever husband for the rest of my life, with only the occasional visitor. At least with them, its ok if I'm not witty all the time. As long as I love them- and feed them- my family is satisfied.

I think that's why I love books so much. They talk, I listen. I'm never asked to contribute anything. I just go along for the ride. Besides, my imagination has always been my favorite attribute.

That being said, its pretty easy to see why I adore writing so much. After a full day of diapers, peek-a-boo, cleaning the same rooms several times and preparing meals, there is little better than sitting in front of my computer and letting my imaginary friends do the talking. One day I hope to have my books in print. But for now, I have to put in my time and hone my craft.

Ergo this blog, which will more or less be my public practice journal, where I suppose I'll talk about my endeavors as a parent, and possibly do a book review or two. Just a little something to keep my mind busy during my down time. And who knows? Maybe one day I just might see this one last dream come true.

Happy reading!

-Ali