Year 2

by Myg on January 22, 2011

Doot and Bing my darlings,

I’m waiting for your Second Birthday slideshow to export and thinking, wow, could it really be two whole years, already? Really? No… really?

I won’t ever forget this night in 2009. Right about now, Dad and I were trying to get a little rest before waiting for you guys to arrive. We were really excited since we knew you were on your way. Okay, terrified too, but mostly excited.

The day you were born I was so sleep deprived and on so many different meds I felt a lot like I was on Mars. So I don’t remember a whole lot about it except that you were so wonderful and you smelled so good and you were so beautiful and so tiny and so perfect. And so very, very mine.

I guess growing up is about you guys gradually becoming less mine and more your own and I’ve decided that’s okay, which is good I think since I have no choice. Every day you learn something new, like how to draw a circle or what yellow is and how it’s different from scratchy or tiny, or that you like puffed rice more than Kix, or how to operate the remote control helicopter. Well, not quite, but impressively close for boys your age. And each new little thing like this stacks up on all those other little things you know and remember and pretty soon, you’re saying things like, “miss Mommy,” when I come home from work and haven’t played with you all day or doing things like sneaking the masking tape out of the junk drawer when I’m around the corner and proudly pronouncing it, “Circle.”

All these little feats of magic add up to one incredible, continuous transformation over time, from being that spark in my heart to that zygote in the petri dish to that fetus in my belly, to those helpless little newborns Dad and I held in our arms, so shakily but so proudly that day two years ago, and now in only two years all the way to this–my big, beautiful boys.

Some tell me I can call you my babies forever, and I probably will. In my heart, I’ll always hang onto the tiny, helpless memory of what you came from, the one that will forever need me, will always be mine. But know too that at the same time, I’ll hold the deepest, most profound gratitude in my heart as I watch you become the boys and in time, the men you were born to be.

Go get ‘em, boys.

Love you forever and always and no matter what,

Mama

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Happy Holidays!

by Myg on December 22, 2010

I have a confession: I used to hate Christmas.

That’s right, and I won’t go into all the reasons why, but let’s just say that when I was a kid, Christmas was the time of year that reminded me most of all the things in the world I wanted that weren’t mine, and I’m not talking barbies and ponies and bikes, because I had those things in spades. I’m talking about those things you feel like you’ve lost when you’re a kid and your family falls apart in several different ways at once and you have no idea of what the future holds.

But now I think I know what the future holds.

No, wait. I meant this.

And a little of this:

What I mean to say is, I think the future holds hope for us all.

Love,
Myg

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About me.

by Myg on November 16, 2010


Lots of ideas, plenty of heart, little focus, perpetual low level “gah!” feeling gnawing at my guts, shouldn’t I be doing more with my life sort of thing, mom of twin boys 22 months old, too hard on myself most of the time, lover of most dogs, but especially my own, happily with the same guy since, oh, 1987 or somewhere around there, internet addict trying desperately not to be, sometimes succeeding, once was a local indie rock music maker and patron, miss it terribly, there’s that focus and concentration thing again, 41 but still feel 20, not in a good way, really, needs to get out more, the best friend you’ll ever have in a crisis but will probably never call you otherwise, but still thinks of you quite often. Really.

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Things your kid hates about you.

by Myg on October 13, 2010

Regardless of what you’ve been told about teenagers, they need you now more than ever. They’ll never admit this, of course. And being there for them doesn’t do much if they won’t talk to us, right?

For those who don’t know me, I am a therapist for teens and their families on a mini-hiatus from clinical work as I raise small children. But as I watch them grow almost as fast as a half-vamp child, I realize there are some things from my work I want to remember for when the time comes. So I’m writing them down here.

And now, some things your kid might hate about you:

  • They know you curse, but you won’t curse in front of them.
  • When you’re having a fight with your spouse and you hear your kid’s footsteps on the stairs, you lower your voice to a whisper, or you stop the conversation. When they ask what’s going on, you make something up or just say, “It’s not for you to worry about.”
  • When you come home stressed from work and your kid asks you what’s wrong, you don’t tell them, but you act like a bitch anyway.
  • You’re really your most relaxed when you’re not around your kids.

In other words, you’re not really you when you’re around them. You’re “the parent.” Whatever you think that means.

Do you know which parents have the best times in the teen years? The ones who remain the most authentic with their kids, no matter how flawed they might be. The ones who fuck up in front of them, and then slog their way through and model how to correct mistakes. The ones who do the wrong thing, but then apologize when they realize they made a mistake. The ones who tell the truth, no matter how bad it is, but still know that it’s their job to maintain optimism and show leadership in the family system. The ones who say to a kid, “Hey, I need your opinion about something,” and really mean it. About something serious like selling the house, not about Halloween decorations.

Your kid loves you and he/she/they want to be close to you. They want to make you happy. (Yeah, even though they’re rejecting you). They hate when you are too protective of them, especially when you’re trying to protect them from the more human and flawed side of you.

From what I can tell, all success with kids (and human beings in general), whether working with them or parenting them, comes down to your relationship. And your relationship is a simple and delicate matter of your communication.

The more frequently and honestly you communicate, the better you’ll do.

Can you over-communicate? Yes. You over-communicate by making the relationship about getting your own needs, whatever they may be, filled by the kid. As the parent (or teacher or therapist or youth worker), the relationship needs to prioritize the kid’s needs.

But honestly? Parents who need too much still do better in the relationship department than parents who do the opposite, which is under-communicate and make their kids feel unimportant or detached. That is because needy parents are closer to their kids, even if that closeness is marred by some conflict. (And yes, there will be payback for that error at some point. But there’s still more to work with here than in the opposite scenario.)

So if you’re going to fuck up, fuck up by needing your kid.

And here ends this tasty parenting tidbit. I’ll be back with more.

xo

Myg

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On Transformation

by Myg on October 11, 2010

I’m done, mostly, writing Osa Bella.

(If you don’t know what Osa Bella is, it’s an epic Twilight fan fiction–all 162k words of it–that I spent, oh sheesh, EIGHT MONTHS writing and posting online for all the world to read.)

This is my remorse post. My omgwtfbbq have I done? post.

Because I have the distinct feeling that nothing will ever be the same now.

I’m not afraid to tell you, I think Osa Bella kicks ass. It’s by no means perfect, but with another rewrite (or ten), would probably be something quite good, able to hold its own on any bookshelf. But as it is, flaws and all (and there are plenty) I still really believe this story is solid, even if there are places the writing is meh. There aren’t many spots where the writing makes me cringe, anyway. If you want to read Osa Bella, you can do that at Fanfiction.net (good for reading on your phone or iPod) or download the .pdfs from Osabella.mygdala.com, but be warned now, there are some fairly graphic sex scenes in it. It is most certainly not intended for readers under the age of 18, or anyone who might blush if they see me in person.

In any case, now that I’ve written it, I think I might have broken some part of my brain because all I want to do now is write. I’ve never done anything in my life that felt so very me.

I know that’s not exactly a problem requiring such a strong feeling as remorse, but I have to make a living. If I’d written a story that was not so immersed in the Twilight universe as Osa Bella is, I would be able to send this out to agents and publishers and I wouldn’t be surprised if someone, somewhere, showed an interest. But as it is there’s no hope of that. So I’ve got to write something else now.

That’s not a problem either, actually. The problem is this: when I become completely absorbed in crafting a story, my mind becomes largely unavailable to do the things that put bread and milk and diet cokes and turkey burgers on the table. And that is my first job–to provide for my family.

So I’ve been transformed into something that feels really good, and out of something I need to be. Which is a breadwinner.

And there it is.

I’m trying very hard not to consider myself fucked.

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On the good side of the universe

by Myg on August 12, 2010

I want to say something about how the universe works, at least my universe, fully cognizant that we’re not all in the same one here.

A week and a half ago I was told that the funding for my job wasn’t going to be reallocated. That means I’d be out of a job as of 10/1. I always knew this was a possibility, but when I got the news I took it very hard anyway. Like, was totally fucking devastated. Mostly because I’m the primary breadwinner and our health insurance is from my job, also because bitch as I may, my job kicks ass. I have near complete freedom to come and go as I will, I only have to work 3 days a week and I get full benefits, including employer contributions to my retirement. And if I lose this position, I can never get anything like it again because they’ve done away with the “regular part time” concept.

So I was devastated, disappointed, but mostly frightened because folks? Even with this job we are piss broke. So the thought of being even worse off? Damned unpleasant.

Anyway, I pulled my head out of my ass, out of my woe-is-me moment, reached out, shared my angst and you were all right there, “We’ve got your back, Myg.”‘ And guys? I’m serious when I say you steadied me, helped me regain my footing. So I went about making plans, figuring out what we were going to do to bring in the guacamole. And I was still worried, but whatever. I wasn’t going to panic. It wasn’t helping, anyway.

And then yesterday I got a message from my boss. “You’re ex-boss from another department has a position open, but instead of filling it, he’s going to to give us the money so we can keep your position.”

Floored. Seriously floored. As I always am by the kindness we show one another in times of stress and need. It is what makes life, however difficult and ass kicking it can be, a worthy endeavor after all.

Much love and good turns of events to you all on this rainy Thursday.

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Eff You, Econopocalypse. I’ve got Mr. Myg and the Myglets.

by Myg on August 10, 2010

Hey there!

A few things, but first, this:

Why no matter what the hell else fucks up in my life, I am the luckiest woman on the planet.

Aaannnddd shit. Hope that didn’t break my layout.

So, you all know I’ve been gone awhile, deep in the middle of my obsessive writing of a Twilight Fan Fiction. I can almost type that without grimacing, almost, not quite. I cannot say it in person without grimacing, only because for those who aren’t in the know, it just sounds so, what? You’re doing what? Writing what? Twilight? Don’t you know that book sucks ass? Well, yes. Yes, I do and I don’t know that. I’m not going to talk about Twilight here. Not. Going. To. Talk. About Twilight.

Hey! It’s my eight year anniversary with Alex! (aka Mr. Myg!). And you know what? He’s really hot, right? He’s even cuter in person. He’s so going to give me shit for posting a picture of him and calling him cute on the internet. Not that much shit.

That was a shot of him just this morning, after he’d had only 4 and a half hours of sleep, he was hanging out with the myglets, Doot (on the right) and Bing (on the left) and I snapped this photo and thought, hot damn. You know, 18 months after the boys were born I’m still a good 20lbs overweight, I just lost my job this week, our finances are really, oh GOD when I think about it, I get palpitations, no shit, they are so bad right now. Like, should we pay the mortgage or buy groceries, kind of bad.

So I’m writing this right from the center of my panic attack. Sometimes I think I could let all of the fear just eat me alive, you know? Like, what in the fucking fuck are we going to do now?

But then I look at that picture there, and I think, Christ. I’m lucky. I swear to you, I am lucky. Because money? It comes and goes. It doesn’t matter. Okay, that’s bullshit. But it doesn’t matter that much, is what I’m telling you.

Alex and the boys matter. We are all here. We are all okay.

The rest is incidental.

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It’s heeeerrrrreeeee!

by Myg on May 23, 2010

You want to read it, right? Right?

Okay, well let me explain a little about it.

It is a Twilight fan fiction. That’s right. A Twilight. Fan. Fiction.

It’s intended for:

  • Adults, women  probably, who love Twilight
  • Adults who love the idea of  a vampire romance fantasy story but didn’t like Twilight so much
  • Those of us who devoured Twilight but had to tell our inner literary critics to STFU the entire time (this is the category I fell into).

What if Twilight was written for grown women instead of teen girls? By me?

Osa Bella is the answer. If you are curious, please check it out over at Twitarded and leave a comment. If you’d like a .pdf and a bunch of geeked out extras, you can visit Osa Bella at home here.

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Where my head’s been at. (unpretty, but true)

by Myg on May 21, 2010

Oh my, it’s been a whole motherfucking month since I’ve posted here? Shy of six days, an entire month? What can I say?

I have been writing a fan fiction novel on Twilight. Writing this thing has been totally absorbing. And educational. On many levels. And it has been a great bit of escapism, one of my greatest escapes of all time. One thing I now know about myself? I can write a novel. It would be nice if I’d write one that wasn’t using someone else’s intellectual property, sure. But at least I wrote one.  And those of you who are curious to read it will get your chance starting tomorrow over at Twitarded.

It’s called Osa Bella and it was written for women who read the Twilight saga and/or saw the films (men too, if they are so inclined) and fell hard for the romance between Edward and Bella but had this nagging voice in the back of their mind saying, would a character as fantastic (and old) as Edward Cullen really want to be with a high school chick? Really?

I work with high school girls, and I can tell you, he would not.

So this story is basically Twilight, but with the twist that Edward meets Bella when she’s an adult. She’s lived a little. Has some baggage. And some other shit happens. Also, sex. Not as much as other fanfics. This story is not about lemons. But there are some lemons in key places where they need to be.

No analysis for you as to why I’ve been obsessively writing this. There are two reasons. 1. It was fucking fun and absorbing, like a good paper towel or feminine hygiene product. 2. It gave me a break from grieving. Forgive my spotty mood from here on out. I think it’s gonna be awhile before I right myself completely.

Also. FFFOOORRRKKKSSS. I am going.  I can’t believe it, but I am going. September 30th, with the Twitarded family. It will be insane. And you should come. Hit the Twitarded link for details.

Love, cupcakes, and lots of good “hey, it’s the weekend!” sex with your loved one.

Myg

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40 days later.

by Myg on April 27, 2010

So, I thought I should probably go on ahead and post something before I get one of those friendly Blogher ad network emails that say, “Hey, Loser! We like totally understand if you’re too much of a lightweight to post consistently, but if you don’t get some shit up there in a hurry, we’re going to yank your ads for a spell.” Actually, they are a bit more understanding than that, and sure, who wants their ads running on a blog with a stale post at the fore? Nobody, that’s who. And even though I am a teeny, tiny blog, I did earn enough money from Blogher to at least pay my hosting cost for the year, so I’m not ungrateful.

I am sort of depressed, though. I’m not even being sarcastic. Well, depressed might not exactly be the right word. Which is why I’ve modified it with “sort of.” But it just sucks. And yeah, I know, I am still grieving the death of my beautiful young step-sister (and can I just please say this: when I say “step” please don’t think that I say that because she was somehow less sister-like.  I’m just a stickler for accuracy in these things.) Grief feels like depression, though it is not the same thing. It actually sucks a lot less, other than the fact that it means somebody or something of importance has died.

I’m not sleeping great, I’m distracted, I’m not doing things that need to get done, I’m not really here when I’m here, sometimes just bursting out into tears for no goddamn reason until I realize, oh yeah, she’s just fucking gone. Gone. Gone for good.

I absolutely hate the absolutes of life.

Fuck certainty and give me the unknowns. Give me the possibilities. I will take them all in exchange for that one inevitability.

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