My Earliest Memory ~ Long and Short Reviews Blog Challenge

Wednesday Weekly Blogging Challenge hosted by Long and Short Reviews.

Today's topic: My Earliest Memory

My memories go back quite a ways considering I remember when my parents brought my new baby brother home from the hospital when he was born. I was convinced they were bringing me a new doll to play with when I first saw him. I was 2 years-old when my brother was born.

I also remember a time when my mother was changing my baby brother's diaper and he peed like a fountain. All over my mom. I remember her scream of surprise and then her burst of laughter. I remember being shocked at witnessing this. And now I still laugh when I think of it! In fact, I'm pretty sure my baby brother peed more than once while my mom changed his diaper. I have vague memories of me warning her whenever she changed him.

I also have distinct memories of my grandfather who passed away a few months after my brother was born. I had a clear image of opening the front door to my grandparents' house to see my pappap sitting in a chair by the window. He turned to face me. As soon as he saw me, his face lit into a brilliant smile and he got off the chair to the floor where he sat on hands and knees to talk with me. I still recall the emotions I felt when I saw my pappap, the joy and warmth that filled me with his smile.

I had questioned that memory when I was older. It didn't make sense to me at the time, because everyone knew the chair by the window was my Nana's chair. Only she sat there. When I asked her about it, she told me that the chair originally belonged to my pappap. She only started sitting in it after he died. 

I realized then that it wasn't my imagination when I pictured my grandfather, it was a memory. 

I also remember his funeral. I remember being in a long room filled with people. My father was carrying me around and I was wearing a dress. I remember seeing my grandfather sleeping in the box which I thought strange. I was confused why he was asleep and not playing with me. 

I have more memories of my grandfather, but these are the strongest and the ones that I'm sure were not my imagination. My family often told me as I grew older about how much my Pappap Bud loved me and my baby brother. He loved to play with us and every time I think of him, I still smile. The love I felt for him as a toddler continued to grow, even after he was gone. And although I barely knew him, I still miss him.

Be sure to check out the other blogger's suggestions at ...

I write sensual paranormal and historical romances. Interested in learning more about my stories? Sign-up for my newsletter where you'll learn about my new book releases, updates on my works-in-progress, writing tips, book reviews, contests, and other fun book-related info!

You can Follow me on ...

BookBub | Amazon | Twitter | Facebook | Goodreads | Pinterest | Instagram

Beth-Ann Miller returns to her Tennessee moutain home to find chaos erupting between her family and their shape-shifting neighbors. Her father is convinced the were-cougar clan is responsible for the murders occurring in their area and interrogates one of the shifters, Boone Evans, her childhood sweetheart. When Boone declares several members of his shifter family have gone missing including his little brother, Beth-Ann suspects someone else is behind both the murders and abductions.

Boone never expected to see Beth-Ann again. When she frees him from her father's cabin and promises to help find his brother, Boone doesn't plan on rekindling their passionate love affair or facing the pain of past mistakes. Nor does he plan on coming face to face with the man responsible for altering his family's life forever.

With men hunting the were-cougars, can Beth-Ann and Boone risk all to have a future together? Or is loving Boone too high a price to pay? 

AMAZON

How I Find Time to Write

Writing while the kids are home is akin to torture. Don't get me wrong, I love my kids and I love writing, but the two never seem to mesh well together. I've been struggling with finding a balance between motherhood and writing for 9 years and 4 babies. I have a 9 year-old son, a 7 year-old son, a 4 year-old daughter and a 4 month son. I never knew how lucky I had it when I could write for hours on end or even during a 30 minute lunch break when I was working. Since my job closed down and I became a stay-at-home mom, I've encountered new challenges. Some were not so easy to overcome.

The Challenge

Finding time to write with a busy family is one of those challenges.

Especially when my husband is often gone for long periods of time and when he is home, he's more interested in relaxing than watching our kids so I can find some peace of my own. He works hard, but I still find it frustrating. And he does, too. I know he'd prefer to stay home instead of working a job he really doesn't like. 

So without help from my spouse, I needed to find my own way of getting in some writing time.

On My Own

Before I became a mother I was a night-time writer. After having my boys, by the time 8pm rolled around, I was exhausted from the day and often fell asleep with my forehead resting on the keyboard of my laptop. 

Yeah, not comfortable.

But I was persistent. If I could no longer write at night, then I'd go to sleep early and wake up before everyone else in the morning. That would've worked great, except for my early bird firstborn who wakes at 6am (sometimes earlier!) every day. And yes, before you say it, I did set my alarm for an hour earlier, but guess what? He still woke up 10 minutes after me. He's got some sort of psychic sense that will alert him instantly if I'm awake. And if I'm asleep, he'll wake up at 6am on his own. It's not his fault. He's been doing it ever since he was born. Seriously, he's been on a schedule since he was a baby. It's built in.

So, not one to give up my dream of becoming an author who stayed at home to write her bestselling novels, I had to change my routine yet again.

Try, Try Again

Adaptability! My saving grace!

Since I couldn't write at night and couldn't write in the wee hours of the morning, I'd have to find time during the day. So for the first few years of my children's lives, I had my laptop propped on the end table in the living room, open to the word document file of my story at all times during the day. This was to cut down on time - having to restart the laptop, open the file, wait while it loaded, only to have to stop what I was doing because one of the boys spilled something. Keeping my laptop open and ready saved time. 

When I got a chance to sit down for a moment or two, I'd write a few lines. When I saw my boys were happily playing on the floor, I'd write a few lines. When they were both conked out on the sofa after watching an hour of Sesame Street prior to nap time, I'd write a few lines more (that's if I wasn't conked out on the sofa next to them!). 

This is how I wrote several of my stories including The Witch and the Vampire. 

Write a Little Everyday

My point is, that I wrote in small segments (incredibly small) until that novel was complete. It was not easy. It was rather tortuous. But it was the only method that worked while taking care of my kids.

I will mention here, however, that keeping my laptop open to my word document wasn't always a perfect way to go. The laptop was also a piece of shininess that my little crows found irresistible. I'd have to chase them away at times with a stern, "Do not touch Mommy's computer!"

This wasn't always effective. There was that time my editor at The Wild Rose Press found a bunch of jumbled letter's and my son's name printed in the manuscript that I sent her when he first learned to write. Thankfully, she has a great sense of humor and found it amusing!

I suppose I didn’t do enough spellchecking back then!

Times Change

This method was only temporary. As they grew older, they were able to understand that they were to play together with their toys and come to mommy while she was writing only when someone was bleeding. Most often, I hear the yelling and screaming and I'm able to prevent things from progressing to bodily injury.

Of course now, I'm back to square one again with my newborn baby boy. It's actually easier this time around because I have my older kids to keep him occupied on the floor while I sit on the sofa and type away. When they get tired of playing with him, or he gets tired of being played with as my 4 y/o daughter still thinks he's a doll, then they hand him to me and I put my laptop back on the table by the sofa. I keep it open, ready for the inevitable moment I'll find them all distracted and they won't know that Mommy has escaped into her fantasyland for a few minutes.

There will come a day when all of my children will be in school and I'll think back fondly to these days when I struggled to find time to write without interruptions.

At least, that's what other writing mom's tell me.

                                                     ~Tricia

Mother is a Beautiful Word

I never really thought about a favorite word until I had children. Mama was the first word each of my children spoke (much to the dismay of my husband who diligently practiced saying 'Dada' to them each day). Their sweet voices calling 'mama' is a sound that will remain forever in my heart.

Even as they grow, and 'Mama' has changed to 'Mommy' and then to 'Mom', each variation holds it's own beauty. Mother is a beautiful word. It holds such power and meaning. My children are my life. They are each a part of me. My body held them, protected them, nourished them. They were born carrying a bit of my heart and soul. After I am gone from this world, my heart will continue to beat in each of theirs.

Never in my life (until 7 years ago!) did I ever imagine I might be a mother. Such a thing was beyond belief. First of all, I feared pain. How could I ever bear the brutality of childbirth? Oh, I've heard the stories. My grandmother glories in describing her three days of gruesome labor during my own mother's birth. Of course, now they have drugs to alleviate the pain, but even then I knew I would not follow that path.

The birth of my firstborn was different than I had ever imagined. It was beautiful. It was 20 hours of waiting for his arrival, focusing on my precious joy instead of the pain, feeling the ghostly presence of my mother at my side holding my hand, the doctor's arrival and stunned surprise to learn that I had refused any drugs. I listened to my baby's heartbeat on the monitors with all the wires taped across my swollen belly. Even as they hurried me into surgery, to bring my son into the world via c-section because of complications, I marveled at the wonder of it all. And when the doctor lifted my 9 lb 5oz child from my womb, I saw the most beautiful baby in the world. I cried at his beauty. At the miracle that my body had created such a perfect creature.

Now, 7 years and 2 more children later, I still recall each of their births with such clarity that I hope never to forget. I have 3 favorite days of the year, 3 days that I celebrate as the most wondrous days in my world. The birthdays of each of my children.

On my own birthday, I think of my mother. Was my birthday one of her favorite days? Did she remember the first time she held me after many hours of labor to bring me into the world? Did she remember with crystal clarity the moment the doctor placed me in her arms and she first looked upon me? Did she cry as I did at the first sight of her baby?

Mom and me

As I've become a mother, I feel closer to my own, even though she's no longer with me. I understand her more now than I ever could before. And as I love the sound of my children calling me 'Mommy' I also love the sound of 'Mom' falling from my lips as I call to her.

And as the word 'mother' holds such meaning to me now, more than ever before, I also realize I have two other favorite words that rival that. Two more words that until a few years ago, I thought never to hold any meaning to me.

Son and Daughter.