Sneak Peek

I haven't written in a while. Part of it is a bit of writer's block--I'm not exactly sure where I want the story to go--and part of it is the fact that I can't seem to get out of my own head. Those voices that rear up when we put a piece of ourselves out there are screaming and I lately haven't been able to tune them out. What those voices are hollering about shouldn't matter. Writing is therapeutic for me. I'd do it even if no one ever read it, but those closest to me see a potential in me I'm afraid I won't ever achieve. Those voices.

I do not have a grand resume in author terms (Ok, any terms!). I almost finished my bachelor degree in Elementary Ed but stopped when we adopted our son. I always assumed I'd go back...and I will. It's just taken much longer than I'd imagined. However, in two years when I do get back, I'm going to ditch Elementary Ed and go for something in the English world. Something that will help that resume of mine and hopefully make me a better writer. It certainly can't hurt, right?

I absolutely do not regret my life decisions. I look at my kids and even though they beg to be left in the after-school program at school, eye roll, I know they would miss me. I know they needed me present in their lives just like I know I need to write. It should be obvious, but I'll say it just in case--  if you chose differently that doesn't make either of us wrong. If your kids thrive in that after-school program and you held on to that career just as hard as you hold on to those babes, kudos. I am grateful life has taught me the grand notion of to each their own. I truly mean that. I know that what is right for me may not be right for you and that doesn't mean anything other than our choices needed to be different. I'm glad I stayed home but sometimes I do feel so far behind in the race. Those voices.

I pushed through those voices today and pulled up my latest project while I sat in the car rider line in front of the school. I scrolled to the top and began to read and guess what? I liked it. It is not perfect, but it is GOOD. I would read it! Ha! And with that thought, the voices were a little harder to hear. Before long, the line was moving and I was scrambling to get my seat where I could reach the peddles because goodness knows that car behind me won't wait long. The car rider line is serious business! As I tucked my laptop on the seat next to me, I marveled at how quickly time flies when I write. Seriously! I've begun writing and not realized darkness settled around me with the setting of the sun until I look up from my screen and find the room pitch black illuminated by only my screen. I truly hope I'm always surprised at how quickly time passes when I write. And those voices? Well, they are completely gone when I'm lost in the story...lost in time.

And, if you're still reading, I'd like to share the preface of my next novel. I THINK it will be called THE LAST OF THE DRAGON KEEPERS, but I reserve the right to change that name! Hope you enjoy.

*****

She slipped through the large battered door quickly, closing it behind her. She fumbled with the reluctant latch, eventually securing it in place. The room was dim, lit by only one candle. The scent of hay and the chicken she’d cooked earlier for dinner hung in the air. She leaned against the door while her eyes adjusted to the low light. She couldn’t see him, but she knew he must be there. She hadn’t expected him to be back so early. Her heart sank.

“Well?” His voice boomed through the silent room, startling her.

“We lost her,” she said quietly, head down. She knew what this meant. 

The man stepped from the shadows across the room and flipped the small table in the center of the meager space, causing the remains of her modest dinner to clatter across the floor. She jumped involuntarily. The solitary candle that sat on a small table next to her bed flickered and went out. Darkness wrapped around her. It didn’t matter. She focused on a tingling within her chest. Her senses immediately heightened. She didn’t need light to see the remnants of her dinner scattered on the floor or the upturned table now laying on its side, one leg broken. She didn’t need light to see him. She didn’t know what else to do, so she immediately began picking up the mess.

“Leave it,” the man said. The fire once in his tone settled into resignation. He stepped toward her and rested his hand under her chin. She reluctantly gave in to his gentle tug and stood. He brushed the tiny stray curls of hair that had refused to stay in her braid off her forehead. She let out the breath she was holding and melted into his arms. “It will be okay,” he whispered near her ear.

“How?” she asked as tears streamed down her face. “The Emperor won’t listen. He refuses to stop using the dragons as weapons, but I thought we could at least convince him to let them rest.” She lifted her head from his chest and wiped her face with the backs of her hands. “He will not acknowledge the dragons’ connections. When one is in battle, they all may as well be. How can he not see that?” Anger burned through her. She wiggled out of her husband’s arms and turned her back to him. “They are all going to die! If not from war, then from a broken heart!” 

He stepped around a chipped bowl and rested his hands on her shoulders. “I will not let that happen.” He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her to him. With her back pressed against him, she could feel the beating of his heart. “What about her babies? Are you going to be able to save them?” he asked.

She turned and faced him. “She protected her eggs until the very last moment.” She shook her head and choked down her emotions. “There are six. If we can keep them from the devastation their family members are feeling they should survive.” She ran a hand across her face. “I’ve successfully hatched dragons before, but never under these circumstances. She lifted her eyes to her husband’s. He looked so tired. She rested a hand on his cheek, fingering his thick beard. It had begun to turn gray these past months. This war was taking its toll on them all. “And your travels—I’m surprised you are back so soon. How many are left?” She held her breath not sure she wanted to know the answer.

“Four,” he said grimly. 

“Four! Only four Keeper families remain?” He nodded. She pushed away from him and began to pace. “That’s six down from only a month and a half ago. At this rate— ” She stopped pacing and rested her hand on her bulging belly. He stepped toward her and placed his hand on top of hers. He bent and kissed where his child grew. Normally, when he did this, she would ask him to use his Keeper senses to see how the baby was doing. She could and did so herself, but his extra assurance kept her worry at bay. At this moment, however, her mind spun so fast she couldn’t keep up. “What—how are we…” she stammered.
He stepped in front of her and clasped his hands around her face. “We, my darling, are getting out. All of us. We are taking the dragons and running. Tonight.”

Here We Go Again

When my oldest was a toddler, my friends would give me a really hard time because I followed that kid everywhere. As a new mom, I already had a couple suitcases of baggage. I had the normal new mom suitcase, plus adoptive mom suitcase and the most painful one of all, the broken-hearted mom suitcase.

For me, the new mom suitcase carried my insecurities and learning curve. I was figuring everything out and second guessing everything I did. To be fair, mine was probably bigger than most.

The adoptive mom suitcase held a higher standard. You said you could do this better than most. I not only felt accountable to my Heavenly Father for my parenting choices but also to this amazing birthmom who trusted me to do something she, at the time, couldn't do. No pressure.

The broken-hearted mom suitcase is where I tucked those devastating moments when I found out the baby we had longed for, and fought infertility for, would not survive after birth. It's where I held the undeserved blame I placed on myself...I missed taking prenatal vitamins sometimes and I didn't eat balanced meals when I was so morning sick, and I...blame, blame, blame. It's where I placed the memory of my empty arms that physically ached as they wheeled me out of the hospital. It's where I shoved the moment we had to say goodbye and place his little body in that tiny casket. It's where I shoved the huge part of me that never, ever wants to lose another child. That bag was cram-packed full.

See. Baggage. When that little toddler of mine would fall, he fell hard and there was usually blood. He rarely caught himself with his hands. It was traumatic for him and for me. So, I followed him and took flack for it. I wished I could say I didn't care. I did. But, it didn't change anything. He was my priority.

Fast forward five years. Kaleb is in Kindergarten and that spirited little boy was giving his teacher all kinds of trouble. That's where the label started...he probably has ADHD. I remember one day he was sitting at the dining room table. We were in a homework battle. I'm sure I was losing. He got this weird look on his face. A blank stare. Like the life behind his eyes was switched off.

     "Kaleb." No response "Kaleb," I said a little louder. No response. "Kaleb," louder still.
     "What?" he said.
     "What were you thinking just now?"
     "I don't know."

That was the day I pushed that momma warning...that intuition...that prompting aside. You are a helicopter mom. He's fine. Get. A. Grip. I felt something was wrong and I talked myself right out of it. Besides, he had ADHD. We always called his name several times before he listened. Right?

Before I knew it, that kid was about to start middle school. It really went that fast...well, and painfully slow, actually. School was rough for him. It was rough for me, too. I dreaded the phone ringing or a new email. Something was always wrong. He was always in trouble. But, now here we were, about to embark on a new adventure (that truthfully, I knew was going to be filled with disasters as well, but I was hoping somehow the changing schedules and teachers would be a good thing...insert eye roll here.)

...Now, let me interject right here. I love teachers. I love everything they do. Everything they are about. I really believe they are asked to do the impossible. Sometimes public school doesn't work for a kid. It's not the teacher's fault. It's not the kid's fault. It's not the parent's fault. It's just not what is best. End. of. story.

Ok, back to middle school back to school night. We walked up to the Principal who was welcoming everyone. Kaleb and I both shook his hand. The Principal asked if he was excited and he didn't answer. My new found southern manners kicked in and I opened my mouth to prod him to be polite and answer the man, but when I looked at him, I knew something was wrong. His eyes were fluttering slightly.
    "Kaleb?" No response. "Kaleb?" Again no response. "Kaleb?" He didn't respond but walked off. Just walked right away into the crowd. I called his name louder. He turned, confused, and walked back. He stuck his hand out to the Principal to shake his hand, again. I knew something was wrong. The Principal didn't acknowledge the moment at all. He moved on to the next child. I wondered if I'd imagined it. However, this time, I listened to that something is wrong prompting.

I called our pediatrician the next day. I should back up for a moment. In my life, I have felt Heavenly Father's hand continually. One way is through people put in my path. When we lost our son, years before we had been blessed to know two families who had lost children and they were such a help to us. When we decide to adopt, the same thing. People were put in our path who helped us so much with the process. Those are just two examples of many! So, when we found out our new high councilman (clergy in our church) was a pediatric neurosurgeon, I literally turned to my husband and said, "I sure hope that man wasn't put in our path because we are going to need him." Tender mercies. After our visit with our pediatrician and she suspected seizures, we called our high councilman/pediatric neurosurgeon. He recommended a neurologist and read our first EEG for us. He calmed our nerves and pointed us in the right direction to get him the help he needed. Tender mercies.

Kaleb was diagnosed with childhood-onset absence seizures. What that meant was his brain would pause multiple times a day for ten seconds or so and then unpause. Some people call them staring seizures. They are so hard to see. So hard. They do not cause brain damage and medication was recommended mainly for quality of life. Imagine trying to learn a new math concept and skipping ten seconds of the teacher's instructions every now and again. The great news was he would most likely outgrow them.

He was on medication for two years. At his two year appointment, our neurologist recommended suspending meds to see what happened. Kids usually outgrew these types of seizures. It was a good time to try...he wasn't driving yet etc. We stopped the meds and for two and a half years we didn't see another seizure.

But, one evening he began acting really strange. He wouldn't answer us and seemed out of it. He had been sick and we even wondered if maybe he had accidentally taken too many cold pills or something. At one point, I was pretty sure I'd seen an absence seizure, but it looked different than they had before...something wasn't right. It was after 5:00 so our choices were after-hours care or the ER. We figured both places would tell us to call his neuro. So, we decided to take him to his youth activity that night and see how he interacted with his friends and call the neuro first thing in the morning.

We didn't make it to youth, though. He went to get in the car, socks in hand but no shoes.

     "Kaleb. You need your shoes. Get your shoes."

He turned and went back in the house to the shoe cubbies just inside the garage door. I went to put my stuff in the car. A scream from the kitchen, my husband yelling and crashing stopped me in my tracks. I ran into the house to find Kaleb having a tonic-clonic seizure. The Lord has said, "If ye are prepared ye shall not fear" (D&C 38:30). I knew what to do. I had read everything that came my way when he was first diagnosed. That knowledge kicked in.

I turned him on his side and told my husband to time it. I knew time was important. But, this seizure was so much more than I had anticipated. I'll never forget the expression on his face. And, he seemed like he was really struggling to breathe. I began to panic. "Call 911," I shouted. I knew to turn him on his side and clear the area. I did not know what to do if he stopped breathing. Well, maybe I did, but I didn't feel like I did. We had been CPR certified three times for our three adoptions...having someone on the line who knew what to do sounded really good at that moment.

We think his seizure lasted around five minutes. Maybe less because the seizure stops when their body stops jerking (the clonic part of the seizure) although he still seemed to struggle to breathe longer than that...it was a bit of a blur. A terrifying blur. The best paramedics in Lancaster county came a thousand years later (I'm sure it was much sooner than that!). It was all I could do to keep it together when they walked through the door. I didn't have to keep it together. They were here to be the brains. I could grieve what just happened to my son, right? Deep breaths. I held it together.

My sweet girls obeyed my commands during all of this as well. "Open the front door. Move the shoes out of the way. Turn on the porch light. Direct the ambulance to our house. Take your sister in the other room." They obeyed and were so much help. They got shoes for Kaleb, packed my phone and charger in my purse and had everything ready for me when it was time to leave with Kaleb in the ambulance. They crumbled in their daddy's arms when we left. They held it together and then grieved what happened to their brother. Warriors come in tiny bodies.

Three hours later we were all back home. That sweet boy of mine was back. He was sleepy but wanted to be near me. Although he doesn't remember anything, that in itself was traumatic for him. Losing time brought a vulnerability he didn't know how to process.

Soon we had everyone tucked in and then I lost it. My husband and I held one another and cried. We know Kaleb will be fine. We know so many epilepsy warriors fight so much more every single day. We pray for you every single day. You are amazing. So many deal with so much more. Warriors.

We've had an EEG and an MRI. We have another appointment with our neurologist in a week. He's on medication and we haven't seen any absence seizures and he hasn't had another tonic-clonic. Thank goodness. Life is different though. We worry. Every day he feels a little more confident. That pre-tonic-clonic kid is coming back, leaving the clingy, vulnerable one behind. I'm so glad he's feeling better, but kind of miss that clingy kid. He was easier to keep an eye on. He didn't want to be left home while I picked up his sisters from school. This one does.

As his parents though, we keep replaying that night over and over again when we close our eyes at night or peek in on him sleeping. When I sweep the floor in the kitchen where he fell or put shoes in the cubby my mind goes there. My heart goes there and I wish it wouldn't.

On another note, I took a picture of Kaleb in the ambulance. I knew he was pretty out of it and would most likely not remember and what 15-year-old kid doesn't want some sort of memory of his first ambulance ride? I knew mine would at least. The next day when we were filling a prescription I couldn't fill the night before, we saw an ambulance.  "I feel like we should wave, Kaleb. Like we are friends now." He agreed. Now we wave.

Here we go again.

Girl Smarts

There is a character in The Ordinary who is witty, fearless, and sure of who she is. She makes her debut partway through The Ordinary. She doesn't play a huge role in book one or book two, but she's pretty center stage in book three (still working on #3!). She's kind of who I'd like to be, in a way. I'm talking about Ky, Jordan's sister.  I admire Ky in so many ways, but the way Ky doesn't let fear hold her back is definitely what I admire the most. I tend to sit right in the middle of fear. Paralized and crying! Haha.

Now I'd like to introduce you to my daughter, Kyleigh. She is almost twelve (four more days, actually!) and she is fierce! We call her Ky a lot. Made a connection yet? Ky was born from this little lady right here. She stands up to her brother even though he can be intimidating at times. She's quick to forgive, easy to love and is a terrific friend. And she is fearless. She isn't afraid to be who she is regardless of the circumstance. She's awesome.

This is her first year in middle school. She's a social little gal and I was kind of surprised she hadn't found a club or group to join. But, right before Christmas, she informed us she wanted to join the Academic Challenge Team. The what now? We'd never heard of that. At first, she wasn't really sure either. We didn't get much information out of her except they push buzzers and answer questions. Before long, we were able to attend her first meet and got to see first hand what exactly the Academic Challenge Team was. We. are. impressed.

Have you seen The Chase? If not, google it and then come on back. It might be awhile because it's a pretty addicting show. It's okay. I understand. The Academic Challenge is kind of like that except without the Beast. And the chasing. The team who answers the most questions correctly wins. I could never, ever, EVER join this team. My brain would freeze and I would be dead weight. Dead, I say. 

Kyleigh, on the other hand, it's like she doesn't know she's supposed to be scared. She doesn't know it may be embarrassing to get the question wrong (which it's not. My brain would tell me it would be!). Our Ky started the first meet as the team captain and has been the entire time. No one else will do it. See. They know fear. 

I'm not just saying this because she's my daughter, but that girl carries the team. I love her little teammates and wish I could help them have Kyleigh's confidence. They got this! They just don't know it yet! 

Their last meet was yesterday and there were only three of them there. Normally, each grade level is separated into different rooms to compete but because of the flu epidemic, they were short staffed. They announced they would all compete in the same room and take turns. Sixth grade was up first. My fear swelled for her! If she noticed my wide eyes as she stood to take her place at the table, she sure didn't notice. She didn't seem intimidated by that packed cafeteria at all. She killed it in the first two rounds, which is the team challenge. They all discuss the question and she gives the answer (because she's the team captain). The last two rounds are the buzzer round and the other team had a really fast buzzer pusher. That kid was fast I tell you! 

Ultimately, they lost this round, but she was recognized as our team's high scorer. She didn't gloat or even tell her dad when we got home. She's humble, too.

As Ky's (Jordan's sister) character progresses, she may have some fear. She's up for a challenge and I'm anxious to see how she handles it all. More on that later! In the meantime, I'll keep watching my fearless girl and all her girl smarts and hopefully gleen some from her.

Clips

We moved to our little town nine and a half years ago. Up until then, we'd had T-Mobile as our carrier for...years. Probably ten years before that. But, our little T-Mobile did not have good service in our area. We struggled for a year or two not willing to give up the amazing price. Too many failed and dropped calls later, we caved.

Enter Verizon. My husband got a work discount, but it was still much higher than T-Mobile. Much higher. It was sad but we did really enjoy the coverage we received.

Every now and again we would stop back into T-Mobile and they would pull up our address on their coverage map and we slowly watched it fill in. Last Saturday we stopped in again and were pleasantly surprised. The difference between Verizon and T-Mobile wasn't significant enough we felt we couldn't switch! Yay. Doing so would not only pay off almost $1000 in phones but drop our bill by almost $100 a month and give us unlimited data (we had 12 something or other...I need to pay closer attention to details!). Oh and free Netflix for life.

We made the switch, but one thing we hadn't counted on was needing to purchase a new phone for my daughter. In order to move it to T-Mobile, it needed to be a 6s or higher. She had a 6 plus. It was on its last leg anyway. It wouldn't work half the time and randomly called people. And it never randomly called her mother. Rude.

The solution to our little predicament landed me with a new iPhone 8. My husband knew I'd enjoy the camera (He is the sweetest!!) and insisted I take the new phone. This leads me to CLIPS! Maybe I missed that little gold mine on my iPhone 7, but I don't think so. I. Love. That. Thing. Mainly because I'm easily entertained and that thing is definitely entertaining me.

That being said, I'm going to upload a little something I made for my husband last night...that so sounds different than what I mean! Haha. He teaches an evening class about an hour away on Tuesdays. My youngest has been really sick and needed some extra snuggles which means my house is falling apart. Which is fine. I'd rather snuggle my baby, but it was a great opportunity to have a little fun. This is what I sent him. My only regret is not seeing him watch it.

The HOLE Surprise

In three short years, our oldest has grown almost a foot. He went from almost as tall as me (I'm a whopping 5'2") to towering over me. He will be sixteen in April and I can't hardly believe it. My facebook memories keep popping up of this little boy I used to know. It hasn't been that long, yet so much has changed. He's taking on more and more responsibilities and I'm eager to hand most of those responsibilities over...most of them. It's hard to let them grow up. Right?

Sometimes, I look at him and forget he's still a boy even if his towering form and cute little stubble say otherwise. He just recently asked us to stop tucking him in. It's hard to holler "goodnight" at his back as he saunters upstairs to turn out his own light and make sure his own blanket covers him...sigh. Although, most nights I'm really ok to not add another treck up the stairs. Not gonna lie.

Just as I sometimes forget he's still a boy, sometimes he forgets he's a boy inside an almost grown-up body. Our wall recently paid the price for a moment of forgetfulness. He was upset and kicked the wall. I wasn't there to see his face, but I imagine he was pretty surprised when his foot went straight through.

He mowed some lawns and used his profits to purchase the materials to repair it. A week or two ago his dad talked him through the repair. He said several times throughout, "This was really stupid," and "Why did I do this?"  And we thought, "Yes! He's getting it!"

It's patched and waiting for a fresh coat of paint. He needs to save a little more to buy a gallon. I'm not in a rush, though. I thought every time I looked at that patch job I would feel angry or sad but surprisingly I don't. I feel relieved. He could have been grumpy and disgruntled and refuse to make his mistake right but he hasn't been. At. all. In fact, he's pushed us to get it done. He's been eager and humble. Teenage win right there. He is awesome!

That hole was a surprise for sure--luckily in more ways than one.