My Daughter Is a MOB by Betsy Ashton

WARNING: Unrepentant proud grandmother post coming up.

You read that right. My daughter is a MOB. She's not in a mob. She's a Mother Of Boys. This woman, who as a child loved tea parties, playing the piano, and dancing, both ballet and jazz, who loved all things "girlie," gave birth to two boys. And what little boys they are.

The older boy Howie is now five and a half. He loves to run, yell in the house, and play with any toys that make noise. He also likes to color in his mother's coloring book. Inside the lines with a really good sense of what colors go together. He loves being a big brother.

The younger boy Cal loves trucks, motorcycles, running in the house, and playing with toys that make noise. Much of his quiet time is when he's asleep. When he's awake, he's always on. When he's focused on something of interest, forget about getting his attention.

Yes, my daughter's house is alive with the noise only boys can make. And she loves it. She's right at home in chaos.

Before you ask, the boys know the difference between indoor and outdoor voices. They can be quiet when they need to. They are young enough to like listening to stories at bedtime. Howie is learning to read in kindergarten. Well, he started kindergarten being able to read a lot of words. Both have solid vocabularies for their ages.

Howie is a runner like his mother and father. Dad is training for a 100K race. (You read that right.) Mom and Dad have run and finished a 50K already. And Howie has already finished his first 1K race. He ran most of the way, only had to walk a little. No one is sure Cal will be a runner, but he does like racing around the house.

This is a family that likes to do things together. Like Halloween, when they all dress up in themes. Star Wars one year; Indiana Jones with ninjas another. No pretty tutus.

I once asked my daughter if she'd thought about a third child. While she'd still love that girl, she said her husband reminded her that he's in the driver's seat when it comes to the sex of the fetus. She'd have another boy.

Can you tell I love them very much? Can you tell I can be an insufferable bore when it comes to the boys? Can you tell I'm glad we live 500 miles away and aren't around the yelling all the time? We get to be the Disney grandparents who drop in periodically and go home when the boys get messy.

I'm done for now. Got the bragging out of the way. Hope you didn't mind.

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Betsy Ashton is the author of the Mad Max mystery series, Mad Max Unintended Consequences and Uncharted Territory. Her work has appeared in several anthologies including Reflections  on Smith Mountain Lake, Voices from Smith Mountain Lake, and Candles of Hope. Some of her essays and poems have been featured on NPR.

When a Writer Has Nothing to Say by Vonnie Davis

I'm writing this on Super Tuesday. So politics are on my mind. I don't appreciate others shoving their political views down my throat. In like manner, I'm not shoving mine down anyone else's. We're all smart enough to make up our own minds.  'Nuff said there.

My cover for Her Survivor is finally up on Amazon. It's book one of my "Black Eagle Ops" series and releases in July. I was so tickled to see my hero make his splash on the empty listing, it took me a few seconds to realize there was another coverless listing. For book two--Hers to Heal. The one I'm still writing! Panic set in and my fingers have been furiously kissing the keyboard ever since. I wrote slightly over 2000 words today. Maybe I'll get a few hundred more written before bedtime. I thought of part of a scene while I was supposed to be taking my pre-dinner nap. Yes, this old bird has reverted to some behaviors from childhood, like naptimes.
But I don't want to talk about the "A" word.

As soon as I finish this post, I'm critiquing ten pages for an author friend who has a novella she wants to submit. I think I edit more than critique. I worry the overall theme is a little dark, but I'm not in the mood to talk about that either.

What would I like to talk about? Weddings! My oldest granddaughter's wedding is June eleventh, two weeks after she graduates from college with a double major in Psychology and Criminal Justice. Odd, really. It was just a few years ago I helped deliver Eleni. The doctor was running late and little Eleni Elizabeth--five weeks premature--couldn't wait to get here to boss her two big brothers around. The nurse ordered me to put on a pair of latex gloves and I did. What an experience! My Sugar Dumplin' weighed in at five pounds. An hour later, I stood at the nursery window watching the pediatrician and nurses hovering over Eleni's incubator. Not that I'm nosy, mind you, but I slipped in to hear what was going on with my grandbaby. She wasn't breathing right and they were discussing whether to airlift her to a larger hospital. "I'll be riding along," I said nonchalantly. The pediatrician whipped around and asked me who I was. "I'm the grandma. I go where she goes." I pointed to the incubator while the nervy doctor pointed to the nursery door. I stared; she glared. The nurses suited me up and allowed me to touch Eleni and talk to her. Before long her breathing regulated. I took credit, of course, much to the irked doctor's annoyance. I sent Sugar Dumplin' a check for her wedding gown and veil. All I asked was that she not tell me one thing about it, so I can't even talk about that. Sigh. See, I want to be blown away when I see her ready to walk down the aisle (Investment tip: Buy stock in Puffs tissues!).

My grandson, Ryan, qualified for States in wrestling. The tournament is this coming weekend. He's on my mind, too. Ryan is a goal-setter. At the end of every summer vacation, he sets goals for the coming school year. This year, they were to get all A's, be admitted to MIT, and win a medal at States. He's an over-achiever, yet a gentle kid with a quirky sense of humor. I wouldn't want to say he was raised to be a wrestler, but here he is shortly before his second birthday pinning Wile E. Coyote. Last year he got a B in Honors English and called me, heartbroken. I told him I was glad. He paused. "Why?" I told him I was glad he'd missed his anticipated A and had to face he wasn't perfect. "We're all human, Ry-man (okay, so I'm a nickname freak, it's a sickness, I tell you). We don't always reach the goals we set. The secret is to never give up, to keep trying." His one and only B didn't hurt his admission to MIT. All I wish for him this coming weekend is that he win at least one match. Okay, maybe two, but I won't talk about that. Grandmas can be SO boring.

 

Next time I blog, I hope I have something to say. Follow me on Twitter on @VonnieWrites. Tell me, what do you have to say today. It has to be more interesting than my rambling.

Sometimes A Simple Gift Can Change A Life by Vonnie Davis

You've all heard me talk about my grandson, Ryan. How my son raised him alone from the age of 15 months until he was 8 years old, when Mike married Tina, a woman who couldn't have children. Three pieces of a jagged puzzle that snapped together like magnets. Now, Ryan is a senior in high school, sending off his college applications to MIT, Caltech, Georgia Tech, and University of Maryland.


A week or so ago, Ryan sent one of his entrance essays to us to proof-read. I have to share 2 paragraphs, because over the years, we've sent books to all the grandkids as a message of how important reading and learning are. Surprisingly, they reached a point where they would email us a list of books they "really, really wanted," and since we are the stern, strict grandparents we are...wait...I think I hear snickering from the readership.

Okay, so we spoil them. It's our duty!

Here's some of Ryan's paragraphs in answer to the prompt to "Share a Significant Place in your life." Now, mind you, he's been on 5 cruises to various parts of the world and flown back and forth across the States, but this is where he chose.

"Going into high school, I was a huge mathematics enthusiast with just the smallest interest in science. It was not until my sophomore year, when I received a book in the mail from my wonderful grandparents, that my view of science and life would be forever changed. The book was The Universe and Dr. Einstein written by Lincoln Bartlett, setting off a chain reaction of events that did nothing less than change my life. After the first chapter, I was completely engrossed in the book and its concepts. Learning about basic principles of relativity that went against most common sense left me with countless questions. It created a deep hunger to learn more.


Delving deeper into the enticing subject, I read countless scientific literature. By late winter, I had heard a science show would be airing in the next few months hosted by Dr. Neil DeGrasse Tyson. The show was his rendition of Carl Sagan's “Cosmos Series.” After this show, I became utterly obsessed with the universe. I absorbed articles and books about space. I stayed up late into the night watching podcasts, lectures, and presentations. And to my friends’ and parents’ exasperation, it became practically the only thing I talked about."

As you can see, we didn't have much to correct except for his last paragraph that I won't share here.

He veered from the personal side to the facts and figures side. Even so, one book--a simple gift--that, unbeknownst to us, changed our grandson's life. Who knew? Ryan told me he'd read it 3 times, but never mentioned its effect. I was blown away by his essay.

As a writer, I often wish my books were the type to change a woman's way of thinking. I try to have all my heroines take life's adversities and turn them into advantages, to see their inner strength and their worth as a woman. I hope I succeed in this underlying message.

My third bear shifter book Bearing It All released last month. 

 

BUY LINKS: http://amzn.com/B00TCI2A5E
http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/bearing-it-all-vonnie-davis/1121772576?ean=9780553394658

Visit my website at www.vonniedavis.com

Forget About Birthdays by Diane Burton

When I was growing up, my mom did her best to make our birthdays special. Since there were seven of us kids, we didn’t get a lot of individual attention—except on our birthdays. Mom made a wonderful orange chiffon cake with pineapple icing, all from scratch. We had candles and singing and gifts. With seven kids, money was stretched to the limit. So birthday gifts, while special, weren’t extravagant. My favorite gifts were always books. Nancy Drew ranked high. As I grew older, Mom would buy a special Sanders birthday cake with buttercream icing, ground nuts around the sides. Yum.

For my kids’ birthdays, I learned how to decorate their cakes using Wilton cake pans. They had Strawberry Shortcake and Raggedy Ann, Big Bird, even Darth Vader. It’s a wonder I didn’t get carpal tunnel from making little stars with canned chocolate frosting. We made a big deal out of their birthdays, just like my mom did. And my family reciprocated with Hubs' birthdays and mine.

So how did I spend my birthday this year? Babysitting the grandkids at their house. (A continuation of the week when Hubs and I had to get them off to school that I blogged about on the 30th.) Always fun, unless the five-year-old starts running a fever. Needless to say, I didn’t get much sleep that night. And of course, I couldn’t find a thermometer or children’s Tylenol. Eventually, I found a chewable pain reliever that in small print said fever reducer. Dad was at a medical conference and Mom was incommunicado at a camp without cellular service. But I managed. Thank goodness for Hubs who took care of the dogs (3 of them) and kept an eye on the kids—while watching football—so I could take a nap. Grandson is fine. Not so sure about his grandma. LOL

Prior to that adventure, I was treated to dinner by daughter and her family. And my five-month-old granddaughter sent flowers from Arizona. Very clever girl. According to her dad (our son) they’re going to have to keep an eye on her. She took a credit card from his wallet and went shopping online. She even wrote the loveliest letter. As I said, very clever for a kid so young. <g>

I love the celebrations. Most years, they extend nearly all month with lunches out with my sister and girlfriends, cards and phone calls. When Hubs asked the perennial question “What do you want for your birthday?” I said I wanted to go up north to see the colors. Surprisingly, he said he was going to suggest that. After forty-three years, I guess we know each other.

The only fly in the ointment is that I’m a year older. Yuck. Mentally, I’m still in my twenties. Thirties, maybe. My body tells a different story. Oh, to have the energy and enthusiasm of those earlier days but the wisdom of age. I’d tell my younger self to enjoy the moment. Not to always rush through whatever I was doing and to stop looking toward what’s next. Just enjoy the journey.

So even though I started later than I should have, I’m enjoying the journey.

Diane Burton writes romantic adventure . . . stories that take place on Earth and beyond. She blogs here on the 8th and 30th of each month and on Mondays on her own site: http://dianeburton.blogspot.com/

Advice From My Grandson by Vonnie Davis

I have six grandchildren, ranging in ages from fourteen to twenty-seven. One, Ryan, has been raised by my son from sixteen months to second grade when my son remarried. During this span of time, I helped Mike with Ryan, taking him one weekend a month so Dad could have a break.

His new Mom could not have children, so he remained the only child, doted on by both parents. Tina is one for traditions, like a picture of Ryan getting a Christmas kiss from her and Mike.

Ryan calls me every week. We live over seven-hours away from each other now. He's seventeen and always asks how the writing is going. During one conversation, I told him I'd just sent in a manuscript and was feeling nervous about it.

"Did you do all your research, Grandma?"

"Yes."

"Did you use all the things you've learned? Good grammar and stuff like that?"

I'm smiling by now. "Yes."

"Did you have someone check over your work? You know, looking for dumb mistakes you might make?"

"Yes, dear."

"So, you've done your best. Let it go and move on."

I used to read stories to this kid. When did he get so smart? He's earned all A's in high school. He's filling out entrance forms for MIT, Carnegie Mellon, Georgia Tech, and Cal Tech. He's already been accepted to University of Maryland from earning the highest ranking at STEM camp last summer. This summer and during this school year, he's worked/working four hours a day as a lab intern at a cancer lab in Camp Detrick, working with AIDS cells. He's only taking AP Spanish and AP Physics at school this semester. In addition, he still plays football and wrestles.

Turning a manuscript in is always scary for me. After all these books, I still get the shakes. So I concentrate on the little gems of wisdom my grandson taught me.  Do your best and let it go.

Learn more about Vonnie at her website: www.vonniedavis.com

End of Summer by Diane Burton

The end of August reminds me that summer is ending. Kids will go back (or start) school in another week. Here in Michigan, it’s the law—I’m not kidding—that schools cannot start until after Labor Day. Tourism might suffer. My granddaughter is anxiously looking forward to starting third grade, while my grandson is just anxious. After five years of daycare and preschool, he starts kindergarten. My daughter is singing “Halleluia” that both kids are now in the same school.

I remember when my life revolved around the school year. First as a student, then as a teacher, and finally as a parent. What a relief when both kids were on their own so Hubs and I could take vacations whenever we wanted. I love traveling in the fall. The colors are phenomenal and well worth trips Up North.

When we moved to our new house almost two years ago, it was to be close to our grandkids. This summer, we've seen more of them than ever. Daylong visits and overnights, together and sometimes separately. Hubs let grandson help build an HO model train car. Bo-ring, according to g'son. This from the kid who assembled a Lego Death Star that had a 92-page instruction manual. Building a birdhouse to take home was more fun. I'm teaching g'daughter to sew clothes for her American Girl doll. At least it isn't a Barbie. I don't know how my mom had the patience to sew Barbie clothes for my sister. 

Besides all the visits from the kiddies (planned and impromptu), it's been a busy summer. Busy but enjoyable. I’m glad August is almost over. We started the month preparing for a visit from the Arizona contingency (son, his wife, & their precious new daughter). My daughter and I (mostly her) made sure they had everything they needed for an infant but didn’t have to bring on an airplane. Their visit was great. First time all the grandkids were together. I loved it! 

After a week, we all decided the visit was too short. Too bad they needed to get back to their jobs.

On the writing front, I had two week-long blog tours set up by Novel Book Tours for The Protector and The Case of the Bygone Brother. I learned the hard way never to do back-to-back tours. Especially when trying to get another book ready for my editor. As soon as it goes off (supposed to have it to her tomorrow), I have to work on my short story for this year’s Roses of Prose Holiday Stories. This will be my third year. I’ve really enjoyed writing short, which is difficult for someone whose books normally run over 100k words. Challenging but fun.

I think I need a break. LOL A trip to Traverse City sounds great.

How about you? Has your summer been laid back or crazy busy?