A Hodgepodge (somewhat)

Um, it's been a while.

I confess that I transfigured myself into an ostrich and recently decided it was time to pull my head from the sand for a few minutes (mostly, to listen to Atoms of Peace on repeat. SERIOUSLY. I would like to hire Thom Yorke to write a soundtrack for my stories. And life.)

But I also wanted to say: I'M ALIVE.

*side note: my blog is glowering at me right now because I haven't visited it in a while.*

I suppose I could start by saying my life has completely and utterly changed and will never be the same.
   Like Ever.

Babies do that, and somehow I find myself being the mother of a six-month old (who, I believe, is part pterodactyl). For the first few months of his precious little life, I'd gone back to work. Because my job required I travel (on planes), it quickly became A CHALLENGE. We tried and tried to make it work - it was my dream job, and I'd worked very hard to get there - but it simply would not. Being gone all night and leaving my husband (who's in dental school ) to care for a newborn while he was supposed to be studying, with no family around to help ...um, er...

After "a few" meltdowns, the answer became very clear.

You should *probably* step aside.

For me, it was the ramifications that proved a bit more...difficult. I felt displaced. I guess it's sort of like having an identity crisis. Trying to somehow reconcile the old you to the new you, but the old you is throwing the mother of all tantrums because it doesn't really want to subject itself to the new you.

And then there's the other part. "My OTHER" part. The one that lives for two-toothed smiles and sings the most ridiculous songs and makes the goofiest faces just for a giggle. The one that changes diapers and makes baby food and cleans spit-up, but somehow doesn't mind at all. Because that part is incredibly grateful for the opportunity to do it. That part sees how fast it's all speeding right by and it doesn't want to miss a second! That part realizes a little person has run away with her heart.

It's taken some time balancing Professional Me with Mommy Me, but there's one other wonderful gift that's helped me adjust. It's helped me shape my seemingly opposing halves into pieces that can link together.  I have MUCH more time to write. Professional Me has been spoiled rotten with that, and she finds her creativity quite unbridled, as of late. I don't think I've been this immersed in my stories...well, ever. After I resigned from Dream Job, I set right to GAIA #3 and poured myself in to a rewrite. In just 3 weeks, I'm almost halfway done. I've also been down right terrible at emailing because of it. :P BUT! I'm loving this story so far, which I can't always say while I'm writing. I'm *hoping* that's a good sign. You BETAS will tell me, though, right?!

There you have it. A mixture of sorts. I am WORKING HARD to have this book done by fall (late), and will keep you posted on progress. (BETAS!!! I'LL NEED YOU!!! - ahem - you know who you are!!) And now I must get back to Chapter 12 before the Little One wakes up...

Also, I'd LOVE to hear how some of you make sense of your two halves. PLEASE SHARE.

You are all so wonderful and supportive and ENCOURAGING. Thank you.

~B

p.s. In honor of Ironman 3, I would also like to add that you are all such wonderful tangerines.

What To Do When You're Trapped in an Hourglass

Hourglasses make me nervous.

Don't ask me why; they just do. I think I'm scarred from playing too many boardgames as a child. Hey, don't laugh! You know that purple sand made your heart pound!

In light of recent, LIFE-ALTERING events, I've been thinking a lot about Time...mostly because it doesn't exist anymore. It's like an extinct species, sitting on a list somewhere next to the Dodo bird. It did, however, have the courtesy to leave me a suicide note before ending its wretched life:

Dear Psycho,

As if I wasn't emaciated enough by your job and your book #3 and working out and cooking and cleaning, then you had to go and have a baby. I decided to end my misery and be done with it. Don't bother looking for me; I'm finishing myself off with your laundry.

~Time

Theatrics aside, OH. MY. GOODNESS. I feel like I need to clone myself, and then clone all my clones. I'm sure I'll hit some sort of stride, now that I've returned to work, but right now....AOSSEIFJSKFASKFKASJEFKAJSEFKJ!!!!

Which brings me back to Princess Jasmine...

It's like every grain of sand dumping on top of my head is something I need to get done (let's be honest here...most of those things I put on myself...). We all have these moments; we all have times in life where we feel like we're juggling all seven Harry Potter books and then someone tells you to do it with your eyes closed. (Right now, I feel like I'm juggling our entire bookshelf...)

But if Princess Jasmine can survive it, so can you.

Rule #1) Don't Panic.
   Okay, so this is probably the hardest for me, but I'm *learning* that those dishes really can wait. And so can dusting things, like the baseboards. We've also invested in a Roomba ;D

Rule #2) Take a Step Back & BREATHE. (and try not to inhale sand.)
    In other words, TAKE A LONG, HOT SHOWER. No, really. Stay there awhile.

Rule #3) When All Else Fails, Wait for Aladdin to Rescue You.
    ...that would be Ben. He talks me through the chaos and helps me organize it into appropriate categories... he's also been surprising me with flowers. :D

So, I sincerely apologize for any lapse in communication or embarrassingly long delay between emails...I HAVE NOT FORGOTTEN. I have been using EVERY spare second I have to finish this draft of book 3!

I Feel Like Gollum...

...like I've been in this dark and desolate cave, without hope of emerging, and have been petting my baby and calling him "Precious."

Okay, so maybe I'm being slightly melodramatic.

But, really. I'm not sure where the past few weeks have gone. They've all sort of blurred together in a giant mass of chaos, where Sleep and Order have been completely overthrown by a cute little tyrant called Baby.

How DOES he get away with such madness?? Oh, wait. I know. Like this:

How does one build up proper defenses to such a creature? Well, one doesn't. Somehow, through the sleepless nights and MOUNTAINS of diapers and laundry (SERIOUSLY?!), that beautiful little tyrant steals your heart away. His gummy smiles turn you into a puddle of goo, and the way he stares at you - a beautiful combination of discovery and comfort - you forget what you were doing. You forget that you were in the middle of The Great War Against Dust Bunnies and that you were losing - dreadfully - because you can't help but stare back into those eager eyes while making funny faces at each other.

But initially, it just feels like chaos.

His days are your nights; he poops his body weight multiple times a day. You're peed on, pooped on, puked on, and then he pees on the PJs you JUST washed because he peed on them 3 hours ago... When "they" say a newborn can eat every two hours, that doesn't mean in between feedings. No, it means everything happens WITHIN a two hour period. IE you feed him for 30-40 minutes, change his diaper, play with him, put him down for a 1 hour nap, and then he's hungry again.

But it was more than that. Nothing in the world could have prepared me to be so entrusted with another human life. The first week of his life, that responsibility hit me...hard. I felt completely overwhelmed (and undeserving), which, of course, displayed itself every day via an outpouring of tears... (thank you, Hormones...poor Ben...)

And then...the chaos changes.

It's a strange thing to have your life work in one fashion for so long (30 years!) and then to have it all flipped upside down and turned inside out. I've realized a lot about myself, and the biggest realization has been just how selfish I am. I've always been very protective *UNDERSTATEMENT* with my time, and now time isn't mine to protect.

But, interestingly enough, I don't mind.

It took me a good three weeks, but the chaos finally transformed into some form of predictability. And now that the dust is settling (on all the black furniture - WAR!), I'm starting to feel myself again - a different me, but me, no less. I'm recovering fast and getting some sleep, albeit incrementally (BTW sleep training is HARD, but it does wonders! I'm so thankful for the advice and encouragement from friends that were successful with it. And I'm thankful for my noise-cancelling headphones :D).

Just last week, Baby Kloss and I had our first "outing" together: Target. Of course he slept the entire time, but I count it as success and a mark that some form of normalcy shall be restored. Also, I've commenced working on book #3; my inspiration has RETURNED! And oh, it's a glorious thing...it was gone almost the entirety of pregnancy. My only problem now is that I can't type fast enough during those 30-45 minute segments of time I'm granted.

I'll never understand how such a tiny person can run away with your heart. He is absolutely perfect and healthy and beautiful, and it's astounding how much he grows and changes EVERY. SINGLE. DAY. He's almost a month old and already a pound heavier (he's got a ways to go to catch up to Daddy), and each day he's more alert, making more noises *MELTS*, and smiling more. (I've already doubled the photo count on my phone.) One of my new favorite things is to watch him with Ben. They already have a bond that's unique to them, and Ben always seems to be able to get him to relax in a way that I can't. Samson is also adjusting. The first time he heard Baby Kloss cry, Samson barked at him, and now he's bringing Baby Kloss his toys, expecting him to throw them.

And now it's time for me to go... gotta wake Baby Kloss so that we can go to Target and get sprinkles to make Christmas cookies :D

Creativity: A Mental Disorder

WHAAAAA?!

Okay, so if you look at any published book on the topic of "Mental Disorders," you probably won't find "Creativity" in the bulleted list. But, see...that's what makes it so dangerous. It's the sneaky cousin to Bi-Polar, father of Anxiety, and the mother of OCD.

I came to this horrendous realization whilst I was making a kind of craft project for The Hubs for our anniversary. Now, those of you that know me know I don't do crafts. I repeat: I. DON'T. DO. CRAFTS. (I prefer things with a delete key or Edit --> Undo.) But for whatever reason, I thought it'd be fun to try something different this year - something The Hubs wouldn't be expecting (...at all...). And most of that craft had to do with computer stuff - which is right up my alley - but then came...the paint and distressing.

O_O

By the end, I didn't know which was more distressed: my project, or myself.

I smiled; I cried. I loved it; I hated it. I wanted to hang it on the wall; I wanted to throw it in Dante's Inferno. I couldn't stand to look at it anymore, so I shoved it in a closet for a few days and when I pulled it back out... (repeat aforementioned sequence)

What was WRONG with me? It was like I was Bipolar, or something. And then came Anxiety: What on EARTH would he think? Would he hate it? Was it cheesy? Of course, OCD-like tendencies kicked in, and I COULD NOT STOP OBSESSING about it.

Then I realized that I do this very thing with writing. I don't seem to recognize it with my stories, though, because I'm so wrapped up in them that I wouldn't see the warning signs if they were tattooed on my fingers.

Some days, I love my story. Others, I think a five-year old could do better. I obsess and obsess, scribble notes all over everything, and when it finally comes time to hand it to my betas...















Creating is HARD. Yes, it's one of the most rewarding and fulfilling things, but it's also one of the most challenging - at least it is for me, anyway. There's nothing else that makes me oscillate between such emotional extremes. Or gives me a minor panic attack when I hand it out for feedback. Or makes me obsess so much that I forget to eat or finish my sentence while plot bunnies jump around in my brain.

*side note* If this has happened while you were talking to me, I do apologize. I have no control over those bunnies. 

*side note to side note* Also, in my defense, "plot bunnies" are not as innocent as they sound. They're more like the Killer Rabbit of Caerbannog in Monty Python and the Holy Grail... (see below)




So maybe calling "Creativity" a "Mental Disorder" is a bit of a misnomer. Maybe referring to it as a causative agent is more accurate. But how - OH HOW! - to deal with it?

Unless one stops creating altogether, I don't know if there is a remedy. BUT! I do like this quote, because it helps me understand the very root of those bipolar-esque extremes...

...and it also supports the OCD argument... =)

I'd like to hear if (1) any of you can relate and (2) how you deal with it!

Ben, Babies, and Justin Bieber

Just a little something funny to end the week...

Amidst my ramblings and updates, I've been asked, "Just how IS Ben handling everything?"
(Everything = dental school + being D2 Class Prez + taking care of a sick and pregnant wife for almost 9 months + insert malady here)

Well, rather than TELL you that he's nothing shy of amazing (anyone find a halo for him yet?? I'm still looking for one that's big enough...), I thought I'd just show you. Or, more accurately, let him show you himself.

He's been keeping sane in "other" ways....

(ahem)

A parody of Justine Bieber's "Boyfriend," as told by his D2 class.

Watch & ENJOY!!  =)

(He's Dr. KlossyFloss...)

 

Have a great weekend, everyone!!

...I'll be writing... :D

Feeling a Bit Spoiled...

...and I don't mean like bad food.

Ew.

No, I (finally) started organizing things for Baby Kloss' room; after all, he'll be here NEXT MONTH. O_O But whilst I was busy, washing miniature clothing and socks and blankets in Dreft, I was...completely humbled.

Everything he has - every single item in that room - was a gift.  I couldn't - and still can't - believe all the support given by family and friends. Whether wrapped in paper or an email, it's all been incredibly overwhelming and humbling. That you would send anything to welcome our little boy to the world means soooooo much to us, and I just needed to reiterate THANK YOU.

Thank you for showering him (and us!) with so much love and support; we can't wait for him to meet you all!!!

That's all =)

Love,
The Kloss'

...SURVIVAL...(a.k.a. the 3rd Trimester)

   "Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you."

~ Albus Dumbledore

Probably one of my favorite quotes ever. 

No, it's not earth-shattering or philosophical, nor does it even make sense, but that's PRECISELY why I love it. In fact, I wish I could choose one of those words at random to deploy when necessary. Like when people notice my rounding waistline and ask, "How are you feeling?" I could reply, "NITWIT!"

Ugh.

UghughughughUGH.

Well, some of you know that I haven't EXACTLY had a pleasant pregnancy (<---see earlier post) - granted, it could be worse. Much worse. But SHEESH. 32.2 weeks of nausea, food aversions (to, like, EVERYTHING), and persistent brain malfunction does something to a person's psyche, ya know? 

I had HOPED it would get better - and in some ways it has. But there are a few additional "minor" things I wasn't adequately prepared for. And how should one handle these so-called "minor" things? I'll tell you how I'm doing it: It's called SURVIVAL MODE. 

- BLUBBER! - 

1st Minor Addition: BABY MOVES...A TON.

At first it was cute - really cute. But then he started kicking my ribs and jumping on my bladder (had to pull over TWICE on a 1.5 hour drive to Tucson. NOT cute.) and shoving his back against my side so hard it felt like my skin's about to rip open.

How to survive? ... Acceptance. There not much else one can do about it, because there really isn't much space for the little man in there. So, I've succumbed to my fate of having my insides warped and rearranged, which leads me to...

2nd Minor Addition: ACID REFLUX.

I had a couple of friends warn me about this, but OHMYGOSHIHADNOIDEA!!

There I was, so happy I could stomach a bratwurst and beans AND dessert. I can count on one hand the number of times I've been able to eat a full meal in the past 8 months. In fact, I can empathize...

 ...and eating that full meal made me happy because that meant maybe - MAYBE! -  I might actually make it through the night without having to get up and drink a glass of milk!

- ODDMENT! - 

I woke up at 3AM with SEVERE burning in my throat. TUMS? Yeah. Didn't do a thing. The result? Waking up sick with a slightly burnt esophagus. There are a couple of reasons acid reflux is so common during pregnancy. (1) The obvious - Baby Kloss is pushing against my stomach and (2) the increase in prolactin (amidst other lovely hormones) relaxes your esophageal sphincter...

How to survive?...Zantac. It's my new best friend. Oh, and so are pillows. I've got a nice tower of them propped against our headboard so that I can sleep sitting up. Also, I don't eat much in one sitting, and instead have a snack 128931092410293801298309128309821 times per day (and drink a glass of milk in the middle of the night, and in the morning, and throughout the day...). That's a little bit of a challenge when I'm working in a lab and wearing gloves and a lab coat, but now it's obvious that I'm pregnant, so customers tend to be more understanding and sometimes offer up their own preggo horror stories. :D

3rd Minor Addition: DISCOMFORT.

Okay, so "discomfort" is something you feel when your foot rubs inside your hiking boot or you ate too much cake or you're trying to sleep on a 10-hour plane ride. 

- TWEAK! - 

This week: 3.5 hour drive to an elevation of 6100 ft. Not too bad, eh? Um...right leg cramped and went numb, spine felt like it was pulling itself apart. Got to hotel feeling like I was going to throw up from the combination of driving and altitude. Stomach muscles cinched so tight I had a hard time walking, but Baby Kloss didn't seem to notice. He still tried poking holes in my dermal layer. Drank lots of water and took a shower (lower back threw the mother of all tantrums). "Lay down" with my pillow tower to watch Nanny McPhee on TV, then vertigo set in. Needed food but was too sick to eat dinner, so acid started creeping up...couldn't sleep for aforementioned reasons. Woke up and went to work (whilst smiling).

O.o

How to survive? ... Probably don't drive that far when you're 8 months pregnant. 

4th Minor Addition: FATIGUE.

....
....
....




I am tired ALL. THE. TIME. It's not an I-need-a-nap tired, either. It's more like an I-could-sleep-for-the-rest-of-my-life tired. And lots of times when I'm talking, I talk myself right out of breath. (Yes, I know some of you would love to see that.)

How to survive?... Video games. I'm serious! I can sit there and stare mindlessly without talking, and it keeps me awake and entertained for hours. Ben and I have gone through all the LEGO PS3 games (anxiously awaiting LEGO LOTR next month!), Rayman, and are currently blowing up aliens in Ratchet and Clank - so much fun!

Dr. Nefarious ( my favorite): "Is my superiority EVER IN QUESTION?!"

But wonder, merriment, and Dumbledore aside, I DO need to say a few words. And that would be:

- THANK YOU -

To all of you that have been soooo supportive and offered encouragement (a.k.a. LIFE SUPPORT!) to me while I've struggled to keep a good attitude for the past, well, 8 months. Also, because of you, Baby Kloss is successfully spoiled with so much love and thoughtfulness and gifts. Thank you for giving him such a warm welcome to the world, and for giving Ben and I incredible support as we launch into parenthood!

And now, after all of that, I think I shall take a nap... :DDDD