About my top-secret pen name

pennameI love that so many of you are wanting to support my romance writing by reading my books.  Unfortunately, I made a promise to myself and my neighbor, a fellow author.  I’m not revealing it until I have sold 1 million copies.  It’s true and I’m not going back on a pact that’s been sealed with a pinky-swear. That’s just not neighborly. If you’re not a fan of romance novels, you’re not my target market anyway and if you are, then maybe you’ve already read it. But here’s my promise to you..

1- I swear I’m doing everything humanly possible to reach that 1 million sales goal.  I’m pretty sure I can kick my neighbor’s ass, romance sells way more than wizarding world fiction, with the exception of Harry Potter. Wait- did 50 shades sell more than HP?  I don’t even know, I just know my market is bigger.
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Health and Wellness Update.

decisionsWe’re fine, by the way.  Thank goodness for the ACA.

When babies are born, a lot of moms will voice a preference over whether or not the child is a boy or a girl but when it comes down to it, all that really matters is that it’s healthy.

I was lucky that all my girls were born healthy (Yes, girls were my preference) and we’ve continued as a physically healthy family for over 23 years now.

But that scare we’re still recovering from- with my health on the line followed by my second daughter’s sepsis and pneumonia- is still traumatic for me.  Today is her 20th birthday and I never thought I’d still be reeling from her near-death experience. There’s an anxious side of me that’s always knocking on wood, we’ve been so very fortunate that we haven’t been touched by much tragedy and that monster whispered in my ear the entire time she was sick “You thought you were lucky, didn’t you?”  I don’t know how anyone manages to survive after losing a child and I know I must be a special kind of nuts to view our luck thus far as a bad omen.  No life escapes tragedy, does it?
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How old are you in MomYears? (or: how I became the mother of 2.45 elephants)

OK, so for some reason a long time ago someone decided that there were 7 dog years in a human year. So by the time your dog reaches one human year old, he’s really 7 dog years old. It makes sense, dogs reach puberty earlier than humans and if a dog lives to be 18 it’s just as much of a treat as a human who makes it to 126. A year in a child’s life is a much bigger deal than a year in the life of an adult (we’re talking humans now). It’s not that a human year isn’t long enough, it’s just that SO MUCH HAPPENS in a child’s life that when you have more than one kid, I’m pretty sure you deserve to count each one of their years as your own.
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Lucky. That’s all.

All my life I’ve felt lucky.  Maybe it’s just a matter of being in the right place at the right time, maybe it’s a matter of choosing to see how things COULD have worked out alongside how they actually did work out.

There’s something anxious and unsettling about imagining all the ways things can go wrong, but looking back at all the ways things have gone right always reminds me of just how lucky I am.  I’ve got the support of friends and family, I’ve got healthy happy kids and in spite of having no real education or work background (other than for myself), I’ve got a job that I love running an amazing company that makes my corner of the world a better place. I’m incredibly lucky.
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Low Tide in Seattle

seaMy daughters’ recently-rekindled passion for the sea and all creatures in it has sent us reeling toward more oceanic experiences lately.  The staff at the aquarium know us by name and my 10 yr old is tracking the time it will take for her to reach the age of volunteering. We’re looking into diving classes, but they’re super expensive and probably not in the budget any time soon.  In the meantime, we’re getting our kicks at low tide.

We live ten minutes from Richmond Beach Saltwater Park, they have free parking and a play structure and plenty of driftwood for building impromptu structures, a fair amount of sand for your picnic blanket and families of sea lions that play in the water and sometimes come on shore.  We especially like going during low tide, so the kids can check out the sea creatures. They lift up rocks, squealing when the crabs scoot to safety, count the barnacles on everything, feel the silky smooth skin of the anemones (and apologize when they scare the water out of them), marvel at all the different types of seaweed and listen to the birds squawking.
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The Best Thing Moms Can Do for the Planet

After the EG Conference, I was so eager to get home and share some of the presentations with my kids.  My 10 yr old is REALLY into animals and also really into submarines. She’s the kid who finds her bliss at the aquarium and at the zoo.

When she was 3, we were having a conversation in the car about how the season was changing; winter was over and spring was coming. I heard her sobbing in the backseat and asked if she was OK.  Her face was red and blotchy and covered in tears and she said “winter is over and I didn’t see a single penguin.”  It was heartbreaking and adorable.
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If I ever get married again

When I was in my early 20′s I was spared the whole push-to-marriage that so many young adults deal with because I was already married when I was 19. (I was also spared the push-to-college but that’s a rant for a different day).

I celebrated my 3 year divorceaversary last month and well- meaning family and friends keep asking me if I’ve thought about getting married again. The short answer is “no.” The longer answer is “maybe, but not right now.”

I’ve heard all sorts of bullshit rationale for why I should revisit the whole death-do-you-part lifestyle and I’m not buying any of it.
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Google’s Mother’s Day Doodle Sucks This Year

As a mom, I can tell you that every single day of my life is spent “for the kids”

There’s little time left for me and even on the 4 nights a month that they’re with their dad I spend time doing laundry and dishes and living for my kids.

My youngest is 8 now, and if you happen to be a mom of smaller kids, I tip my hat to you (It’s a Girl Scout baseball cap and not something stylish, just so you know).

I clearly remember waking up to the sound of a screaming infant, sipping coffee while monitoring the busy-bee activities of an active toddler and soothing myself to the promises of more experienced moms who told me “It will get easier”
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Living On The Edge

My dad used to say “If you’re not on the edge, you’re taking up too much space.”  He meant that it was important to be up-to-date on news, technology and innovation, but that’s not the “living on the edge” that I’m talking about.  I’m talking about literally standing at the edge of a cliff in a windstorm with waves crashing beneath my feet a thousand miles below me.

Being a single mom is hard, especially in my head.  I commute a total of 16 miles a day, it can take anywhere from 40-90 minutes a day.  Those two sentences seem unrelated, unless you’re me in the car white-knuckling for 40-90 minutes a day afraid that at any moment a car is going to swerve out of nowhere and kill me, leaving my kids without a mom.
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Great Minds Discuss Ideas

It’s been said that “small minds discuss people, average minds discuss events and great minds discuss ideas” (though apparently there’s some dispute about who actually said it and which exact words they used, though it’s most often attributed to Eleanor Roosevelt).

I’m not a great mind, I’m fascinated by people and super inspired by their stories, whether they’re stories of success or stories of failure. Recovering from a narcissistic relationship is weird. Some of the personal work I have to do is examining my own mindset and discovering ways that I allow my “light to be dimmed” by trying to live up to the expectations of other people, or my own self-talk.  It’s really weird.  Because in order to be in a relationship like that you have to detach; it doesn’t matter what you think or how you feel about anything, it only matters how you’re perceived in light of the abuser’s insecurities.  If that sounds a bit like trying to balance a wobbly gyroscope by firing at it with a slingshot full of broken rubber bands, then you’re understanding the situation really well.  It’s as hopeless as it sounds.
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