Chicken or Egg?

Little H's night light went out awhile ago. We didn't have a replacement bulb. I started to worry. We keep her door closed so the cats don't get up to midnight shenanigans in there - it's REALLY dark once the door is closed.

Would she wake up in the middle of the night and freak out that it was so dark in there?

Would she be traumatized and scared of her room?

Would the entire household be awake for hours causing me to send hubby out in the darkness to search every gas station for bulbs?

Would I be forced to leave the door open and would the cats scratch her through the bars of her crib because her little piggies were a danglin' and that's just too damn much temptation for a cat now isn't it?

Then I realized I was crazy, put her in her crib, shut the door and she was off to sleepy land. It's been a week of darkness and she's just fine (yeah, I'll get a bulb eventually, who has time?). This whole view into my mental instability isn't just for shits and giggles folks - I do have a point here...or more of a question / observation combo:

Does creativity feed the maternal worry causing it to spiral out of control or does becoming a mom, start the worry that feeds the creativity? Which came first? Because, I know I've always been creative but I don't think I've always been crazy. On the other hand, maybe I was always crazy and am just now realizing it?

This post kinda proves that doesn't it. Nevermind! Nothing to see here ;)

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Giveaway - Custom art for your child's room from Namesakes!

Enter to win a custom piece of art for your child's room. Namesakes has offered to personalize a wall hanging just for you! And if you'd like to purchase, 50% of the proceeds go towards benefiting pediatric cancer causes.
To enter, visit it's 4 the Kids. Read about the kids (bring tissue). Once you've gotten to know those children a little bit, come back here and leave a comment for your entry. Tell us a little about what you read at it's 4 the Kids.
This contest is open until Nov 15th.

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Monday's Muse - The Meme for Creative Moms

I don't normally post pictures of my Little H. But this weeks muse for me has to be her. When I became a mother I had no idea how it would change me; the real me, the very core of who I know myself to be. I'd always been a creative person, but now everything has so much more meaning behind it. Little H has inspired so much since her birth - this blog for one. I thought I'd post a pic of her from this time last year when she would sit still for more than 2 seconds! Now I'm lucky to get a blurry image of her butt as she runs away :)



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Empathy - A truth

This is late for Mother's Day I know, but the words are for my mother nonetheless. This is part of a series of flash fiction pieces I'm working on. I hope you enjoy it Mom.

Empathy - A truth
by H.E.Eigler

I had no idea she could be struck down like any other person, any normal
person with susceptible flesh and organs apt to fail. I always thought she
was made of stone, strong, fearless and willing to stand no matter what.
When I was young there was no excuse for staying home from school. 'I
could make it through' she would say. She taught me that it was important
for me to make my own living, to be self-sufficient, to be tough.

I hardly ever saw her cry. Not when her good friend had
breast cancer. Not when she moved over and over and over away from her
homes. Not when her youngest daughter pokes herself half a dozen times a
day with insulin shots.

I cry though, I can’t help it. I feel
ashamed and weak and angry when it happens. Movies, literature, visiting
the SPCA even brings me to tears.

There was one time,
though, when I saw her cry. It was when we lived in the duplex on the dead
end road. It was that dusky time just after dinner and we had been calling
the cat in when the doorbell rang. She answered it and I knew what had
happened. Our neighbour was holding the cat in his arms.

“We heard you calling,” he said, “it came out of nowhere,” he
said, “I thought you would like to know, to bury it.”

We all cried
that day. He was such a nice cat, and comical with his cow print black and
white fur. My father and I wrapped him in his favourite blanket and buried
him in a shallow hole beside a road near the dump. I don’t think we buried
him deep enough, a dog could have gotten at him but we were both too upset to
dig any deeper and it had gotten dark.

When I visited her in
the hospital she was pale from her surgery. Her uterus was gone and she
didn’t look herself. Pale, tired and sad wasn’t who my Mom really
was. I knew she looked afraid but I wasn’t really sure what that
meant. I didn’t know what to do to make it better. I brought her
flowers, but I really wanted to stand her up, strong and fearless and willing
and as my mom should be. Once I was alone, in my car, I cried for her as
she wouldn’t for herself.

This piece is part of an exercise on emotion that I'm working on. While it does convey the love I have for my mom, it doesn't revolve around that emotion. So to be perfectly clear and because I'd imagine a mother can never hear it enough times - I love you Mom. Happy Mother's Day.

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On taking my own advice

Two days ago I had a weird dream, something about a car breaking down. It's all gotten fuzzy now and I can hardly remember the feel of it, never mind the details. That morning while brushing my teeth I thought about my dream and fleshed it out into a story idea. It was an idea for my flash fiction series on emotions. The idea was perfect for the Fear piece I'd been meaning to write for sometime now. I finished up in the washroom and then it was time to feed little H her baby oatmeal and fruit. I hollered to hubby as I ran down the hall into the bedroom to 'hang on just a moment, I'd be right there'. I rummaged in the bedside table for the notepad and pen I had stashed in there. I had to write down my idea, because the day was planned and I had not planned to write. I didn't want to lose my thoughts on the piece.

Fast forward to today. I planned to write during little H's nap time. I figured she would sleep for about an hour and a half. I wasn't ready to jump to writing when I put her down. I needed to eat lunch so I did that, then I put in some laundry, blah blah blah, I only managed to write 100 words before she woke up. Not good.

For her afternoon nap, I made sure I had my poop in a group. All I had to do was get on the computer and write. I managed to get the majority of the story written. Now I'll let it marinade for a bit before I go back and edit and write a little more. I also managed to make a Halo. I was pleased not only that I plowed through these things but that I had the right frame of mind create two things I was pleased with. I thought clearly and deliberately about each word I wrote and each ribbon I glued. The afternoon session was much better in that because I was organized, I was able to focus and produce product that flowed out of me easily. And that is great, because feeling forced to create is never a good thing. When I knew my time was limited during my morning session, I did have that forced feeling and the words just didn't come as easily.

For me, balancing my creative life with my mommy life is all about planning. Every mom knows you can't plan everything with a baby around but do what you can, and you'll be able to take advantage of those times when things go smoothly.

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Stuff

Well, I turn 30 in August, I have a kid and I'm married. This has all lead up to one thing and one thing only. Purchasing a minivan. GASP! I've looked at those minivans in disguise, the cross over SUV and there just isn't room in that third row to fit anyone but the dog and I'll be damned if I spend thousands of dollars to transport the dog in style.

When we bought the current car, we did so with visions of baby in mind but what did we know then? I picked the one with 4 doors and thought we were good. Add in a monstrous rear facing car seat, a stroller, diaper bag, husband, and there isn't anywhere to put the groceries and our front passenger seat is so close to the dash that nobody can sit in it. We're just starting to look, so please tell me your minivan horror (or happy) stories.

In another example of stuff I thought I would never, ever do unless under gunpoint. I'm getting a tutu!

For little H, not me. Could you imagine?? Hey, stop it, it isn't pretty! But the tutu is going to be so so pretty. One of the ladies I know through my birth month club at pregnancy.org has a home business called Sara Rose tutus. She loves making them and she does a wonderful job. I plan to use it in little H's first birthday pictures. A mom has to have these types of pictures to show future boyfriends right??



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To Cheese it or, not.

Having a little version of myself crawling around has got me wondering what traits she will inherit from Mommy and Dada. Of course, one hopes their child will share some of their passions and a few of their interests. I can't lie and say I wasn't a bit sad to see little H's disgust over a cheesy Kraft dinner noodle I popped in her mouth the other day. You see, I usually remove a few noodles for her before I put the cheese mix on. Until this point, I wouldn't give her something as disgusting as Kraft dinner - I reserve that filth for myself. But I thought, 'what would it hurt to see if she likes it with cheese'? Turns out she shares her fathers disdain for the almighty KD. We'll see if she out grows it.

Anyway, it made me wonder who she will take after as she grows. Will she like music or movies? Video games or painting? Comics or novels?

I'm doing everything I can to tend to any spark she might have for books. I read to her every day. Usually one book before her afternoon nap and three before bedtime. She is only nine months old but, I hope that Moo Ba La La La by Sandra Boynton or Goodnight Moon by Margaret Wise Brown stirs something deep in her DNA, put there by her mother, and all her other book loving relatives.

So far it seems she likes the voices I make, she likes the pictures and she sits still as I read to her. She grabs at the pages to flip them back and forth and back and forth while I take her through the stories. She doesn't seem to tire of our reading routine. We'll see if she grows out of it, or deeper into it as I did.

Do you read to your kids? What are your favorite kids books??? Let me know in comments.

Fear

I've just finished two more flash pieces in my Emotion series. They were about empathy. I'm not the type to easily feel sorry for people so this was a bit of an eye opener and challenge for me. Up next I'm working on fear. The fiction piece will be much fun. I plan to write a bit of horror. I see something gritty and grainy and old fashioned. I see some type of monster with tension holding it all together. I'm excited to get working on it, just a bit more mental grease is needed before it all spews out my fingers to the keyboard.

Now, the non-fiction piece will be about little H. There is no way on this planet that I can think of a time I was scared and not think of the day she stopped breathing. It is the only time in my life when I felt real fear. Sure, there were times when my breath caught in my throat if our car swerved on icy roads. When thunder clapped overhead when I was young. When the big kids told the bloody hook story over a campfire at girl guide camp. But now, that I've had this experience with little H, I know that those other times were just thrills. Thrills like riding a roller coaster or playing 'Bloody Mary' in a dark closet while five little girls laughed right outside with their ears pressed to the door. I'm not looking forward to writing it but I have to.

Emotionally afloat

Flash fiction is one of the forms of story telling that I absolutely adore. I love writing it, and, because it is short, it fits in with my schedule or lack thereof as of late. Right now I am working on a series of flash fiction pieces where the subject matter revolves around emotions. Empathy, Love, Fear, Anxiety, Anger, Joy.

Now that I am a mother, all these emotions seem heightened and writing about them in a context other than revolving around baby is difficult. It made me wonder if moms who work in mediums other than the written word have the same difficulty. Painters? Do you find your preferred subject to be your little ones? How about sculptors? Certainly you photographers snap endless pictures of your children. I know that our poor cat Boo, who used to be the star of our albums, has only had his photo taken once in the last nine months. Every other image in our digital camera is of little H.

I'm willing to bet that the recent scrapbook craze came about because of children, and textile artists create for their kids too. But do they struggle as I do to round out their work?

Back to my flash pieces, I never really knew most of these emotions until I had little H. Empathy for when she got her vaccinations. Love since the moment I knew she was about to arrive. Fear when she stopped breathing momentarily on her third day of life. Anxiety during every moment of every day.....oh, she's gonna bonk her head again I just know it! Anger at the thought of going back to work and leaving her behind, and Joy. Joy is most prevalent when I'm watching her learn new things...which means everyday I feel Joy.

Wish me luck. I will speak more on these flash pieces as I work on them. I hope to have about a dozen or so by the time I'm finished. Anyone who wishes to comment on their experiences are welcome to do so!