Nathalie's Notes

Triggered by my recent clip

You’ve heard of the dad who popped a couple bullets into his daughter’s laptop, right? I’ve been so frustrated by the coverage, and public reaction to that story I had to address it in my most recent “Raising the Hardy Boys” column.

Here’s the link if you’re interested: Public tries to substitute opinion for information.

It was impossible to sum up my frustration eloquently in 600 words. There is so much that we’re missing in this story. Whether we agree with what he did or not, this event has triggered (yeah, pun intended) a massive, emotional response – that is part of the big story – why?

And then there’s the story of the fact that we don’t seem to have each other’s backs as parents at all. Sure, if we know each other we make allowances for off days or errors in judgment but if we don’t know you personally and you do something that raises our eyebrows, ire, or even the hair on our arms we’re quick to call in Child Protective Services (who have real kids in real danger to protect by the way) and then sit back and watch the circus from our couch, safely removed from it all while another family get’s theirs turned upside down.

Except but for the grace of God are the tables not turned. We all have moments we’d just as soon not have broadcast to the nation and beyond. Moments, say, when we reacted to something our kids did with our hearts and egos instead of a more grounded television-worthy place. Because we’re people first,  parents second. 

I don’t know a single parent who doesn’t want to be as good a parent as they possibly can. Let’s try to remember that when we see someone fall short of what that means to us and hope that same grace has our back when it’s our turn on Dr. Phil, or whatever.

p.s. Want a sneak peak for next week’s post?

My Project Life Hack (aka Tickler file) … wish I could think of a better name for “tickler file.” Anyone?

(The point of the thing is to serve as a home for all those papers that clutter up counters, desktops and purses, fridges and bulletin boards.) Details, instructions and Q&A to follow next week, if you’ve got questions post them in the comments or email me.

Just write. Be you. (And when in doubt,ask the 8-ball.)

I found an unexpected use for my new favorite writing-related book: “The Writer’s Workout” by Christina Katz. It’s my Magic Eight Ball. Or, more honestly, it’s one way my intuition talks back to me.

My most recent example of how this works happened Monday. I was starting back to work on a novel I’ve been writing for years in starts and spurts. My husband and I finally think we’ve found a way to arrange our schedules to accommodate a few regular windows of time for me to get it done.

Our plan was nearly perfect except one small roadblock. Me.

I wasn’t caught up on all the other stuff I do around here. I didn’t have all my notes for this novel gathered in one place like I’d been meaning to. I didn’t know where my outline was, which is more important since I lost so much in the first computer crash last year. I realized, though, that to finish it what I had to do first was to simply just begin. So I did.

It.Was.Awesome.

And just before I started writing I flipped “The Writer’s Workout” open to page 145 and found this:

If organizing is cutting into your writing time stick with finding your writing rhythm instead.

… Don’t schedule writing time. Just write. Don’t decide too far ahead what you will do, just do what you need to do now. … Keep writing until you meet each goal.

Another example that happened literally as I was working on this post: I was thinking about another post I’m working on about Bill Johnson’s presentation at the last Northwest Author Series. I wrote a note to myself to encourage readers to be themselves in their writing, to use the voice and style that comes most naturally to them. And then I opened my Magic Eight Ball randomly to page 146 and found:

I was born to be Christina. Marc was born to be Marc. And you were born to be you. what kind of unique trail are you going to blaze?

See?!? It works. Every. Time.

(If you try it, I’d love to hear what comes up!)

If you want to buy a copy of your own, call your local book store and ask them to order it for you. Let me know if you do because I’d love to check in with each other as we make our way through the year. While it’s obviously helpful any time, any day,  “The Writer’s Workout” is designed to start in the spring, which will be here soon!

Let’s flex our brains, stretch our fingers and get writing! 

I'll be back tomorrow evening with a guest post from the coach herself. 

Until then, here’s my Amazon review:

In the spirit of full disclosure, I know Christina. I like Christina. So of course I'm going to read her newest book. And I'm a fan so naturally I'll buy it. And I'm a polite person so I'll say some polite things about it. What I won't do, though, is encourage you to buy it unless it's a bookshelf-must.
It is.
If you're smart, you're more conscious than ever about how you spend your money regardless of how much you have. And if you're like most writers the last thing you need is another un-read book on your nightstand.
But The Writer's Workout isn't meant to be read in one sitting. Instead, it's intended to serve as a constant guide and companion; a virtual coach clarifying your writing goals and guiding you ahead in your career with practical advice, thoughtful quotes and engaging exercises.
I've read enough reviews on Amazon to know there are some who think knowing the author precludes a person from writing an objective review. Perhaps that's true. But, since I do happen to know Christina Katz, I can tell you something about her the book jacket can't. She's a writer who walks her talk. Her advice is relevant, current, solid and based on personal experience.
Just like her first book Writer Mama wasn't helpful exclusively for mothers, The Writer's Workout isn't inspiring exclusively for writers; it's also motivating for anyone with a long-term personal or professional goal.

From yours truly

[Editor's note: I posted this after creating my own handwriting font, thinking I was so clever. I was eager to share it, and my love of handwriting with you all. Then I traveled across the country and got super sick. I returned to the land of the living to find Susan Branch, yes THE Susan Branch, commented  on this post asking if the handwriting I was so sure posted perhaps didn't. Even though I saw it on my computer ... because, duh! Your computers don't come with the Nathalie's Notes font. Shocking, I know. I'll add it to my list of things to figure out someday.]

  I LOVE handwriting! Many of my favorite books include the author’s handwriting in them: SARK, Sabrina Ward Harrison, Susan Branch to name a few. I think I love it so much because it’s personal. And I’ve always thought personal is meaningful. One of my favorite memories from my wedding season was when, at my bridal shower, my girlfriends each wrote some advice on a paper my Maid of Honor, Amy, prepared. They were anonymous. But I knew every single person’s handwriting by sight. Loved that.

All that is to say … this is my handwriting. How cool is that?! I used myscriptfont.com to create a font using my own handwriting. [[(Er... see above note).  [[[[

I’d love to say it was in honor of National Handwriting Day last week – but that’s just a coincidence. I’m considering using this for my posts but am not about  the .readability. Let me know your thoughts.

It just seems like a natural way for me to use this medium to communicate personal things as I work on developing my new class for Big Picture Classes, The Art of Self Preservation because … I got the gig!

The editors at Big Picture Classes accepted my proposal and I actually get to teach a class about the very thing I’m most passionate about. Online as many of you requested when I was doing it locally.

I am over.the.moon excited!

I hope you guys will consider joining me on that journey and taking the class with me!

So much more to say, but I just finished my TheraFlu and the alarm is set for 4 a.m. for a crazy-fun adventure. More on that later, too.

Stuff

My newest Confessions of a Green Wannabe article  ran this week, “A new approach for 2012- the ‘ecolution.’” Click here if you want to read it, starts on page 3. (If you’ve got a few extra minutes, check out page 4 for an awesome article highlighting the essence of my husband’s new business, Artisan Timberworks).

I referred to the following clips in my column, so here they are if you’re curious. The first one is Annie Leonard’s breakdown on “The Story of Stuff.” The second clip is George Carlin’s commentary on our obsession with our stuff. (Guilty as charged!) FYI, if you’re not familiar with Carlin’s work, he cusses recreationally and regularly so don’t listen to this around kids, co-workers, bosses or if foul language offends you. The “G” version gist of his bit is in my column.

{December Daily} revisited; deadlines avoided

I’m on deadline. So, naturally I’ve written the thank you notes from Sam’s birthday – in October. And one to the staff at the hotel we stayed at over Thanksgiving – Holiday Inn Express in Troutdale. And the Mayor and Council of my town … I’ve scrubbed random spots on doors and walls I’ve managed to ignore for 18 months and after this post I suppose I’ll have to actually get back to it.

Or … I could spend 40 minutes messing with my  December Daily video because I’ve been meaning to do that since April when many of you couldn’t see what I’d posted. Turns out I used a copyrighted song in the background and that killed this video star.

Inspired by the awesome Ali Edwards, December Daily is a project I will hold dear because participating in it brought me light and kept my focus on the positive during a particularly dark period of my life. Anyway, here’s take 1,000 for those of you who asked:

December Daily 2010

This album turned out exactly the way I wanted. How often does that happen? My favorite part though is that it’s the first time I’ve finished something I’ve started just for myself. If there’s a deadline or it’s for someone else I’m all over it but things that are just for me get put on perma-hold. Or, rather, they used to.

I thought that was my favorite part until Sam saw me get the album out with our other decorations and has asked to sit down and read it together several times a day. I love, love, love that!

For more about my whole December Daily process, click here for archives or on the “December Daily” in the category cloud to your right.

I would love to hear from any of you planning to join in this year. I’ll share more about my current plans for THIS year’s book … but first I have to write the final drafts for my column and book review. Really. I’m on it.

Since you asked ...

A sample day in the life of a stay-at-home Mom*

Between 5 and 7:30 a.m. Wake up to sounds of my husband trying to be quiet. Marvel that my children slept through the night and pray for another hour of quiet before the party starts. Write morning pages, finish a few things for work and make my shake. Empty dishwasher, start breakfast prep, set out stuff for making dinner. Put in load of laundry.

Head back upstairs where Sam finds me stretching in my room so we do a little Yoga together before his brother wakes up. Sam’s the loudest little Yogi ever so Jake’s up before long and hits the ground running. And then falls hitting his knee on an unidentified object since I was being so negligent as to use the bathroom for a moment.

7:45 a.m. I bring some first-aid stuff upstairs to deal with his scrape. Sam insists his brother wants a boo-boo pack and hurries downstairs to get it. He falls too. So there we are, the three of us on the stairs, two-thirds of us in tears. I suggest we start the day over. We get dressed and come down for breakfast.

8:05 a.m. Noticed the box of Band-aids is suspiciously empty. Found them stuck all over Sam’s door. I scraped them off while he explains that he was “just decorating.”

8:10 a.m. Noticed the Neosporin cap is missing, spent the next 15 minutes hunting for it before Jake finds it and choke to death. Change Jake’s diaper. I’m too slow because in the 12 seconds he had the opportunity he manages to pee all over his lovey, Zebra. Luckily I have a spare.

8:25 a.m. The water I’d set to boil for our oatmeal evaporated in the meantime. Almond butter toast and honey it is. (It helps to remember that when Plan A fails, you’ve got 25 more letters to work with).

8:20-8:30 a.m. Managed Sam’s meltdown over not being allowed to watch “Bob the Builder.”

8:32 a.m. Breakfast on the table, bags are packed from the night before we’ll be out the door on time today. For sure. Except I didn’t read Sam’s mind and therefore “messed up” his toast.

8:33 a.m. Manage another meltdown because I cut Sam’s toast into rectangles instead of his “favorite shape, triangles.” FYI: yesterday, the request was for rectangles. Jake, on the other hand, loves the toast, doesn’t care about the shape but thinks it makes a lovely hat.

8:40 a.m. Eat my toast standing up while combing almond butter out of Jake’s hair.

8:55-9 a.m. Clean up (by which I mean the kids not the breakfast dishes, those get thrown in the sink on a good day), wrangle kids into shoes and car-seats. Catch a whiff of stinky realization that I need to change Jake’s diaper. Stupidly smell his pants to see if he needs new ones. He does. Plus, I need a shower because, well, let’s just say I should’ve used my eyes instead of my nose!

9:00 a.m. Load boys up, lock myself out. Get in through super-secret means, tie my shoes while I pee. Yes, multi-tasking at its finest. Sing wheels-on-the bus all the way to the gym, pausing only to look for Cement Mixer Melvin and Rescue Rita. Also, forgot to announce “Time Tunnel approaching folks.” Promise to try to remember tomorrow.

9:30 a.m. Arrive at the gym daycare, breathless after carrying 30-pound Jake from the back-40 and keeping up with Sam who can’t wait to play trains. In the spirit of efficiency, I consider that my warm-up and sign in pleased that we are, for once, on time today. At which point I’m told I was actually signed up for 9 a.m. Cool.

9:45 a.m. Grateful for a cancelation, I am finally able to hit the treadmill, workout and shower all by myself. Even in an itty-bitty shower stall with little privacy and no scented potions from home this time to shower and get ready in peace is such a luxury that I’m willing to work out hard enough to need one after years of boycotting exercise due to the fact that I hate it. A few people have asked me why I go through the trouble of going to the gym when I could just go for a walk with “one of those kid-pusher things.” For those who don’t know, that would be a stroller and I suppose it’s possible that someone who’s never pushed one with two siblings in it wouldn’t understand that is an exercise in both patience and futility but not so much a physical one since you’re always having to stop to give someone his bottle back or pick up the blanket that you just ran over and will now have to wash before bedtime.

11:00 a.m. Stop at the “Tractor Park” on the way home to supervise play and sharing practice. Watch in awe as other parents are able to relax and read as their children fling sand into my kids’ faces. Remind Sam we don’t have a snack bar because we had to leave the store last time due to his not listening. As he starts to throw a fit remind him that if he does that I won’t have the energy to remember to buy them next time either!

11:30 a.m. Bribe the kids back to the car with the promise of lunch and an episode of “Caillou.” Yes, even if it’s sunny. People say television is a babysitter like it’s a bad thing. I’m more of a “most things in moderation” kind of mom. Ad-lib “Wheels-on-the Bus” all the way home to include all of the “Sweet Pickles” characters.

Since I’m already over my word-count, just trust me that the afternoon is a blur of crafty activities, clean up, sharing practice, explaining why it’s not okay to tow each other by the neck, hunting down remaining strangulation hazards, trying to keep one kid relatively quiet while the other naps, prepping dinner, bum-wiping, re-wrapping the toilet paper on the roll, Google contents of Sam’s giraffe and ideas for how to fix his tail, laundry, and the list goes on.

Yeah, that whole bon-bon thing? It’s crap!

Flash forward to the chaos of the day fading into dinner negotiations, bath time fun and subsequent tsunami zone, then stories, songs, bedtime. I SAID BEDTIME!!!

And then I clock out.

Just kidding.

At Bedtime Jake is screaming for Zebra. Oh, did I not mention that as I was filling the tub he decided to toss Zebra in there, giving him a nice soak. Remember this morning when he peed on the other one and I was so glad I had a spare? Yeah. I didn’t get that into the dryer yet.

Motherhood is full of Sophie’s Choices. Do I give him the wet zebra or the one he peed on this morning?

I’ll leave you on that note … I know there are so many things I missed. I’m sure you can help me fill in the blanks. Hopefully this is enough to demonstrate the “bored” is the dumbest adjective to describe this mad-awesome gig.

*After writing this it was brought to my attention that technically I’m a work-from-home mom but as far as I’m concerned, the details here are representative of the stay-at-home mom part and the work-from-home part happens on the treadmill, at the park while supervising sharing practice, between singing rounds of wheels-on-the-bus, and between 9 p.m and 2 a.m.

Stop the madness against mothers already!

 

This is a post to compliment my column running in the News-Register today. By “compliment” I mean, a place to put everything I had to cut to make my word count.

I started writing this article a couple months ago after a few friends asked me within a week of each other if my husband had ever asked me what it is I did all day. Then, my husband happened to come home, survey the day’s damage and wonder out loud what we did that day.

I started taking notes in the margins of my days on ways the day got derailed by minor things (spills, potty accidents, meltdowns and the dog getting out) and major things like falls down the stairs, etc).

As I started to list the things I do on a sample day as a stay-at-home mom, I quadrupled my allotted word count before I even got to noon, at which point the afternoon becomes a blur of crafty activities, clean up, supervising sharing practice, explaining why it’s not okay to tow each other by the neck, hunting down all remaining strangulation hazards, trying to keep one kid relatively quiet while the other one naps, dinner prep, bum-wiping, re-wrapping the toilet paper on the roll, Google contents of Sam’s giraffe as well as ideas for how to fix the tail, etc. So, I decided to make my “day-in-the-life” post it’s own online column.

I meant for this to run last month, the week of my deadline I followed my (at times super inconvenient writer’s intuition) and held it for this month. I didn’t know why at the time, I just knew I needed to. So I wrote about something else I’d been taking notes on for awhile: playground rules for parents. Then, I waited for” the knowing” to make sense.

As I was working out one morning, I happened to catch the co-hosts of “The View” talking about a survey conducted by TheBump.com and ForbesWoman.com. I wish I had the clip so you could see Joy Behar’s face when she said it, but she implied that the only reason stay-at-home moms would be stressed was because of the boredom.

And in that moment it was clear to me why I’d held off on publishing this. Instead of being another rant about being misunderstood, I had a news hook.

You do understand that I’m not complaining about the job itself, yes? I love having the opportunity to do this. I chose it. I’d choose it again tomorrow. The part I have an issue with is the misconception that I’ve got nothing but time. That I’m not really working. That, for the love of all that is holy, I’m bored!

The part that makes me most insane is that choices and circumstances about parenting, particularly mothering—I might argue exclusively about mothering—are turned into some kind of a contest where there are right and wrong answers – there aren’t. It’s personal for every family. What works for mine might not work for yours, and vice versa.

The whole pitting women against each other thing is so old already, and yet we keep participating in the destructive nature of these kinds of debates.

I invite you to join me in stopping the madness against mothers and simply celebrate the fact that it takes all of us doing whatever it is we’re doing to contribute to the community of children we’re creating.

{Hops of soapbox}.

p.s. the survey also addresses a key issue about parenting, resentment about imbalances in co-parenting. Trust me, we’ll revisit this soon!

Reporter’s Notebook

- This is from a few scraps of paper I found tucked in one of my journals from shortly after I started working as a reporter covering the North Coast of Tillamook County. I don’t understand all of it, I’m sure I thought I’d remember the cryptic notes to self forever, but no. I truly loved being a reporter and even though I don’t have deadlines every day, I still ask too many questions, eavesdrop over the din of two toddlers and take notes as often as I can. The goal, for me, continues to be to understand others, and in doing so, myself.

 

Keeping Secrets

Being in the position of choosing what readers need to know from reading my story – until just now I didn’t get that I should read what I write from the reader’s perspective instead of the people who might clip the article.

I believe I’m a good reporter. I care about what it means – I want to be among the best – It’s fun to meet a community this way. In my third month at the Headlight-Herald things are coming full circle – it is tough to remember not to participate. I am curious to know the real work habits of other successful reporters. Successful meaning they enjoy their work most of the time and have healthy contacts – a big exercise in boundaries. In many ways the staff works independently but we are impacted by what each of us do. Integrity is the key, more so than even accuracy because the obvious attachment to accuracy is assumed. Integrity in reporters isn’t as rare as the public image machine declares – but it is essential to my understanding of success as a journalist.

K. gets the award for media mute. And I’m trying not to take it personally- because it isn’t. He didn’t return phone calls before I wrote a single story about Wheeler. It’s strange to be putting myself out there and it feels like the right path for me right now. They suggested it might which is different than saying it would.

It’s also interesting and tough to understand and just ride out the reality that one morning you’ll be thinkin’ you forgot how to write – the next you’re writing one tight lead after another – catching the beat of your own voice – and dancin’.

Thursday – 4 p.m. – check out house?

“I remember leaving the till open at closing – might as well not have the insurance company buy a new cash register too.”

You never know when a big story’s going to break, but you don’t have to be hunched over the scanner waiting for it. So often, they come to you.