Dream Catchers

  “Mommy, I had a terrible dream last night.”  Callie looked up at me as she solemnly recounted the dream  filled with witches and monsters, all the while playing with the bubbles in the bathtub.

  “Honey, it’s okay to have bad dreams sometimes,” I encouraged as I scrubbed the soap into her scalp.  Even though they are unpleasant, they are not real and we always wake up.” 

She closed her eyes as the warm water rinsed her hair.  Her eyes popped open and matter of factly she pointed out:  “Mommy—that dream catcher you gave me doesn’t work!”

  The fascinating part of this story was I’d given her the dream catcher nearly a year earlier, and we’d had only one conversation where I explained its purpose. Native American legend has it that good dreams slip through the web of a dream catcher during the night, and bad dreams become caught in the web and are perished by morning light.   It hung on her bed as a permanent fixture…and I’d still completely forgotten about it and assumed Callie had too.

  I was amazed by the memory of my 3 year-old at the time…and somewhat sad too.  I’d given her something she’d truly counted on and it had let her down.  I now think twice now before making promises of anything that has to do with folklore...or anything else for that matter that I'm not 100% confident in!  ~Trina

What Is It You Fiending For?

I just had to share a bit of exciting news with everyone.  I was up late in front of this same computer last night…and this morning like a complete crackhead.  Leah and I were joking last night that if she could just get some meth, she would be able to whip out the remainder of our chapter pages she’s been working so diligently on.  It’s completely amazing working on something you are so passionate about, and then watching it unfold before your very eyes.

Remember, Leah and myself are two very busy ladies.  I know, I remind you of this frequently in my posts but bear with me!  We both have jobs, plus two kids, plus husbands and a pretty busy social life.  I tease Leah because every time I’m talking to her on the phone she’s heading to a different play date!  However, we squeeze in time; in the early morning hours or after everyone is fast asleep, trying to get that much needed silent time to work to make our dream actually happen.

I have two points to this post.  (1) I want everyone to know the final stages of our book are in motion and it’s going back out to agents in February.  We’ve been blessed with so much wonderful feedback from the agents we’ve sent it to, that I’m still amazed.  Not a single negative comment; only honest and helpful suggestions by people trying to help us succeed.  The main suggestion?  A new slant…a great book isn’t enough.  Fabulous writing these days?  Not enough.  We have to have something new, something that hasn’t been done before. Period.  After a few months in motion - Check!  We are proud to say that we are nearly there.  Just weeks away!  And, we know that this journey and morphing into what we’ve become is only part of the process and getting us to the final trek.

Okay, finally I’m to point (2) If you are someone that is completely happy with your life the way it is, cheers to you!  There’s a level of happiness and satisfaction for everyone in life, and if you are at yours; I both envy and revel you.  However; if you aren’t 100% satisfied…if you wonder if there’s something better, if you know there’s more to you and your future- go out there and get it and don’t stop until you do!  There’s nothing like being a crackhead writer, sitting in front of this computer at all odd hours, fiending for the next keystroke.  And when true success happens, the best part of it all will still be those moments; the journey over the mountain to get there.

Because we could never have done it without all our friends and our family (Carole, Leah’s mom, has been a Godsend) and our followers…thank you so much!  I have friends who email me weekly with quotes, ideas, and just to cheer me on.  I have friends who call for status reports because they are as excited as I am to see this book published.  Or people I have lost touch with, writing me on facebook to say how much they enjoy the blog! Even complete strangers saying thank you for sharing.  We love and thank you all!

Stay tuned…a great week ahead of new posts (a surprise post coming, don’t miss!) and recipes, of course!   ~Trina

*And, since the word fiending isn’t used across the country like it is in the western states –I’ll explain: it’s a slang word used similar to “jonesing” for something.  Like being a crack fiend….

Creating Holiday Magic - When You Can’t Afford To Buy It

Published December 2, 2011 - Baltimore Sun

This Christmas, less stuff but more memories

Lack of material abundance doesn't have to spoil the holiday

By Leah Speer

Everyone has hopes and dreams for their families. I thought I'd planned everything out perfectly. Up until recently, I thought I'd played by the rules. So how did this middle-class, college-educated, gracious woman go from a comfortable life in a cozy two-story house to a stressful, paycheck-to-paycheck life in an apartment? It didn't seem fair. I know — life isn't always fair. But I fancied that statement more when it didn't apply to my life.

Don't get me wrong, I understand the mechanics of it. My husband and I went from two incomes to one when we went from one child to two in less than two years. Then a sudden job transfer left us scrambling to find a renter for our home in an economy we couldn't possibly sell in. Though we were delighted to be back in the South, we were still two hours away from the other home we rented. We found ourselves struggling to support the difference between what we owe on our mortgages and what our renters were willing to pay. We sold most of what we owned and moved into a two-bedroom apartment.

With December here, I cannot bring myself to believe that I'm not going to be able to provide my two young sons with the most extravagant Christmas imagined. For the second year, they won't be dressed in dapper holiday outfits from The Children's Place, complete with new loafers from Stride Right. They won't be waking up Christmas morning to a train table with Thomas and all of his friends choo-chooing by, next to a battery-powered police car big enough for them both to ride in the grassy backyard we don't have. My family won't be lounging on a leather sectional, sipping cocktails at the bar in the corner of our family room or watching the game on our 73-inch plasma TV. I won't be cooking a feast of turkey, stuffing and sweet potatoes with an array of delectable desserts on the side table smartly lined with holly.

Thankfully, after weeks of soul searching and dutifully tuning in to Oprah's Lifeclass, I've come to the realization that it's OK. I know things will get better. I believe it. We are just going through a tough time, as so many families are. Some worse; some better. What I keep reminding myself is the importance of making sure our boys are happy and feel secure in our home — no matter where it may be right now or how much stuff we have.

I'm now able to see this fanciful Christmas is all in my mind; it's just my expectation of what would make the best holiday season. And that is what is so beautiful: I can still make their experience magical. With a little creativity, I can make our little home a winter wonderland. My boys will buzz with anticipation as we leave cookies and milk out for Santa on Christmas Eve. Christmas morning they will awake to an enchanting site of wrapped gifts piled under the tree.

They don't need to have the most expensive or fastest or biggest toys; they'll only play with half of them anyway! Chocolate from their stocking will stain their brand-new twenty-one dollar button-down, and they'll keep their new shoes on for maybe an hour. My parents can really bond with their grandchildren as they cozy up in our humble living room. Maybe we mix it up this year and have a scrumptious lasagna; hey, fewer dishes to wash means more time to drink wine.

What I am going to remember this holiday season is that it isn't how much money I have or what I buy for them; it's what I do with each moment of each day. You can believe this too. We can turn simple moments into special holiday memories. If we keep a positive outlook and take what we've got and make it good, our children will hold on to the good times. If we can find the happiness and really enjoy these moments, our children will feel it. They will have that special place in their hearts of what Christmas means to them.
Years from now, when we are all in a better place in life, we will be so proud knowing we cowboyed up and delivered a special Christmas — no matter how little we had at the time.

Ultimately, that $40 Rock Star Mickey will be fun for our kiddo for about three days before you are ready to toss the mouse out the window. But memories last forever.

Please Promise To - What We Provide Them With Today May Brighten The Path To Our Promises

Newborn

Mother - I promise to give you all the love and care you will ever need and more. 

Age 2

Mother - I promise you’ll have a great big grassy yard to play in.

Child – Please promise to spend quality time with me, whether it’s inside at home or outside at the park.    

Age 3 

Mother - I promise I’ll give you a little sister or brother.

Child – Please promise to have me socialize with other children my age and not just sit me in front of the television all day.      

Age 5

Mother - I promise you I’ll send you to the best school.

Child – Please promise to spend one-on-one time with me after school helping me with my homework and teaching me all that you know.

Age 10

Mother - I promise I’ll take you to Disney World.

Child – Please promise to really listen to me, support my interests and let me explore my independence.

Age 13

Mother - I promise I’ll buy you all the right clothes.

Child – Please promise to teach me to be confident in myself, no matter what I’m wearing.

Age 16

Mother - I promise I’ll buy you a car.

Child – Please promise to teach me how to save money and earn the things that I want to have.

Age 18

Mother - I promise I’ll send you to the University of your choosing.

Child – Please promise to carve a path for me to do well in school so I may earn scholarships to get me through college.

             

Mothers make a simple promise to their newborn - to love them and care for them, no matter what it takes.  It doesn’t take long, however, for more complicated hopes and dreams to take focus in our mind.  Yet, with unexpected economic heartbreak, career detours, and everyday challenges that life is sure to deliver-and does; some of the promises we make to our children may feel like illusions.

It is through our disappointments we must realize that if we’re providing our kids with the essentials of love and security, they will survive.  More than likely, if we are the type of mothers that even have these worries; these children will thrive.  Isn’t it true that what we’re already providing them is all they really need?

We can get so hung up on giving them all the bells and whistles- the best schools, mind-blowing vacations and the trendiest clothes, but what really matters are the simple times you spend with them and enjoying each moment in our today.

Moms Raising Boys and Their Endless Energy...The Boys; Not So Much The Moms

One of the things I dreamt about most when I dreamed of having children was reading to them in bed, all snuggled beneath the covers, with their heads resting on me. 

   They are 2 ½ and 1 ½ and I’m still waiting for this particular dream of mine to unfold.  You see, I have two boys.  I started reading to each of them when they were in my belly.  Now, the readings have become a part of our bedtime ritual.  It was getting pretty exciting when Luke started to learn words and we’d slowly browse through a book – I’d point to a picture and he’d holler out the matching word.  As Luke learned the alphabet, we’d search the pages for letters he recognized.  That was the extent of our readings.  I knew that any day now, with excitement, he’d want to start reading the stories along with me. 

   This summer, we got him a sturdy, Cars toddler bed (within the first hour the Cars sticker was ripped off).  That night, I climbed into his red bed adorned with Toy Story sheets and he hopped in right next to me.  This is it, I thought, anticipating the big moment.  I pulled the sheets up over us, opened the book and began to read the first page of Goldilocks and the Three Bears.  Little brother Zealand—hearing me reading, decided to climb up, too.  How exciting!  He crawled over me, his knees poking my shin; toenails scraping over my thigh.  But he found a spot, and there we were.  I pulled the sheet up over us and reread the first page so Zealand wouldn’t miss a thing. 

   On page three, the hungry little blonde comes across the porridge.  Luke had turned his body 90 degrees with his feet propped on his bedside table.  He was revving his engine apparently, ‘brrrm brrrrm’ as he announced he was a car and going really, really fast.  Zealand was tugging and bending and shoving the page I was trying to read.  He had a mission to destroy the page, not read it.  I swiftly pulled the book from his grip as if I were a three-year-old on the playground, rightfully grabbing back my toy.  He pulled himself to his feet and began to bounce away.  Then, Luke flipped over in a millisecond and jumped out of bed, his elbow flailing into my chest, his other hand smashing my stomach flat, and snatched the book. 

   “No more book, Mommy!” he announced. 

   I was heartbroken!  My cozy little dream.  Then just frustrated… 

   I yanked the book back and said in my stern mommy voice, “We are going to sit here and read this book, right now, or I am going to leave this room!”  That voice is usually saved for moments when he hits his brother or when Zealand tries to scale the entertainment center.  I quickly realized it would take more than a new toddler bed to sway these boys from their inherent verve. 

   Defeated, I looked at them, opened my arms out to the room, inviting them to run and play, and pulled myself up on the bed.  I made a comfy spot and read the familiar story of a broken chair and a little girl fast asleep.  In the background, I heard car noises—helicopter noises, a basketball bouncing off the wall,  the sound of Zealand climbing up the outside of his crib, the click of the fan being turned on and off, then on again, and their loud, boyish laughter.  

   I remembered some of the many conversations I’d had with my friends who had daughters.  The majority of them will cuddle up for book after book after book.   As I glance up, I wish that at least one of them would want to sit still and read with me…but seeing the joy on their faces as they play with one another into the wee moments before bed, well, I'll be darned if that doesn't delight me!