Writer Mom Series: Masked Doors

I am a writer. But first, I was a mom. 


A few of you have mentioned over the past year that you’d like to hear more about my journey as a mom of four children. This seems like the perfect time.


I turned double 20s, yesterday. Never being one much concerned about my numerical age, I was surprised how hard I took it…and then I wondered why. And here’s what I learned about me the person, the writer, the mother.

"When one door closes, another opens..." Alexander Graham Bell

Doors open and close throughout this journey we call Life. It's a continuous revolution of opportunities, disappointments, slow periods and those that seem to fly by, growth, hopes, dreams, and wishes.


I'm not a huge believer that there's a golden book out there where God pens our every move and motivation. I believe a smorgeboard of choices is set before us, teasing and titillating us to become more than we think we can be.


Some of you know I've been struggling over the last two months. Most of my life, I've had one door that lead to another door that lead to another door and so on. I pushed hard, worked hard, and succeeded. Period. That's me. But lately, one door has refused to close to allow another one to open--the one I want desperately: novel publication. All the near hits with my work that turned into misses since November have attacked my creative juices. Somedays, I've felt like a flower losing its shadow in the sun, becoming invisible--alone. All my fellow flower buds have bloomed around me, yet I still have not.

As I pondered if all this effort was really worth it, I checked my Facebook account. The number of b-day well-wishes overwhelmed me. But not just that. Many included private messages about my writing and how they know I’ll make it and how proud they are of me. Wow.


My cyber driveling then took me to this great post about hating your writing and how that’s a good thing.


I noticed our post for Oasis for YA was up. It was about how thankful my Oasis sisters were for me. Me. Then I received a private b-day card from Mr. Lenny, himself. Seriously, I thought that would do me in. While wiping my eyes, I opened my email to find a message from a woman who’s not only become an inspiration to me but also a dear friend, Georgia McBride. She was concerned about me. I’ll leave it at that. 


Sitting back, I closed my eyes, reflecting on that door—that nemesis. Then, I had a light bulb moment. 


The door blinding me is a different door all together. And as I stared at it, what stared back was humbling—every memory I’ve ever had of my four children.


I ended up breaking down as I realized what I was seeing. My three oldest kids don’t need me to kiss their boo-boos or tuck them into bed. At 17, 14, & 12, they are building their own lives, friendships, and paths. My role is changing…and Mommy is taking it harder than she ever expected…and that is affecting more than motherhood. 


I’ve always been the tough mom. “Get up. You’re fine” or “You won’t feel it tomorrow” often came out of my mouth. My boys played hard and got dirty. I let them. They had late night camp-outs in their bunkbeds when they thought the hubs and I were sleeping. I let them do that, too. My daughter was the girly-girl in everything pink (and I relished it), until she discovered her big brother’s sweatpants. So, she wore sweats for a while. And the 7yr-old has a vocabulary of an 11th grader (both good and bad) and he is a genius with electronics. I correct and praise him. I've allowed them room to discover who they are, who they are meant to be. I can still do this as they grow older, just in a different way. 


But I mustn’t forget that as they grow and change, I still do too.

Double 20 is a right of passage for me. The remainder of Alexander's inspiring quote is "...but we often look so long and so regretfully upon the closed door that we do not see the one which has opened for us."

My writing doubts are due to this change as a mother which I did not want to see. I don’t want to say goodbye to those late night coddlings with the kids, or never feel their little arms around my neck again. I miss the mess they made in the bathroom while taking a bath, and the way they’d waddle across the room dribbling milk from their full glass.


I miss them…and that was the first admission to moving forward as a person, as Mom, and as writer.


It may take me a little time to adjust to this new revelation, time to swallow and let those cherished memories fuel me up again. But I now know, I’m not going anywhere but up. My new door is open and has the most beautiful set of stairs for me to climb.

Are you with me?

On my Facebook Page I use this quote to describe myself: I am an evolution, continually revolving upon itself.


That I am.