Free Fall

Last week I had my first essay published at The Smartly.

And, because I am completely insane, I started off with an opinion piece.

I kind of doubted that they would even post it, and then, when it was posted so quickly - wow.

I was terrified.

All the sudden my head was pounding, my stomach was tight, I was breathing faster.

Did I really want this?

I read over it a few times. 

No. No, nothing is right. I need to revise. OMG! How could I have thought this was a finished piece of writing?!

I took a few deep breaths. It didn't help.

I took an Advil. It helped a little. 

I took the boys to McDonald's and snuck a couple of their fries. That helped a lot.

All my life I have wanted to be published, and this is such an awesome start for me; I was so looking forward to it happening. But, I didn't realize what it would feel like.

Jumping off a cliff.

No parachute.

No safety net. 

Just me, and my words. And everyone's judgment.

Some will love me. Some will hate me.

This is the risk.

And...I think I am willing to take that risk again. And again.

Tweezer Ninja

It doesn't take much to scare me.

A horror film, a book about ghosts, a creepy story told around the campfire - any number of things can get into my brain and when night falls, and I am alone, my imagination starts to run wild.

At the beginning of this week I was met with a few frightening tales I read online. The internet is a scary place, my friends. I read some unsettling stories of other bloggers having photos of their children stolen from their sites and used for various reasons. Then I read a horrible story of a Navy wife who was murdered while her husband was on deployment. With her killer still at large, the internet adds a whole new dimension to the case, since she was active on social networking sites. 

Being on Facebook, Twitter, MySpace, Flickr, or having a blog, and taking advantage of the awesome networking possibilities that the internet has to offer is so much fun. It can be easy to forget that there is a dark side to all of it though. There are bad people out there, with bad intentions. 

So these are the things that have been on my mind all week. 

Last night I kept hearing strange noises in the house. I'm pretty sure it was just the kids moving around in the cribs, but OMG it is so much louder at 11 o' clock at night! 

I couldn't sleep. I went out to watch TV, but the only thing on at that time is the news, and all they want to talk about is people getting murdered. 

And I hate that we have these big windows on the side of our house, and I haven't put curtains on them, and the outside light burned out like three months ago, so I can't see out the windows once it gets dark...but you can totally see IN.

So I naturally assume that there is always some serial killer or home invader just standing outside the window, dressed all in black with a hoodie pulled over his head - super creepy like - and he is staring at me. 

His gun/knife/nunchucks gleeming in the moonlight.

And he just watches me. 

So I act really tough when I walk by the windows, to give off the impression that he totally can't handle THIS.

Sometimes I yell toward the bedroom and have a super loud, pretend conversation with my husband and I mention how he is big and scary and has military training on how to kill people, so you should just move along to the next house, Mr. Serial Killer, because we are definitely not helpless victims for you to prey on.

Last night, just to prove this point, I brought my tweezers out to the family room with me and waved them around to show that I have some seriously sharp tweezers and I know how to use them.

So if any bad persons are reading this, and considering doing harm to my family or me, you would be wise to forget it, because this is one tweezer-wielding chick you don't wanna mess with.

Fear

I was nine years old when I saw the movie "It". The scariest freaking movie ever, about a clown that lives in the sewer and kidnaps children and then eats them or something terrible like that.

It is especially frightening when you are only nine years old and possess a very active imagination. For three months afterward I slept on my parent's bedroom floor. I remember keeping my mom up late every night because I was afraid to close my eyes, and about six weeks into this routine she told me emphatically that I was never allowed to watch another scary movie again in my life.

At 26, I am scared of obvious things like spiders and snakes and serial killers, but to this day I still hate clowns. I am pretty certain I will never get over that fear. I have watched dozens of other horror films though, (shhh, don't tell my mom!), but none of them have had nearly the same effect on me as "It". It's interesting, the things that frighten us, and the things that don't.

This past week while we were in California, we pulled out some toys for my kids to play with in my Grandparent's front yard. Ryan loves balls, he can usually be found carrying around one in each hand and saying "Ball!" over and over and over again. My Grandma brought out three balls for him to play with, a large purple one, a green one and a soccer ball. 

For whatever reason, as soon as Ryan saw that soccer ball, he decided he DID. NOT. LIKE. IT. We kept trying to show it to him, to convince him that there was no reason to be afraid of the soccer ball, but he wasn't having it. In fact, he was so scared of it, that we ended up placing it down a walkway that we didn't want him wandering down, because as soon as he saw the ball, he started running in the opposite direction. The soccer ball worked better than any toddler gate!

Well, it was just too quirky of a fear to not have a little fun with. And we totally got it on video:

Epilogue: I am proud to say that my brave little boy ended up conquering his fear. By the end of the trip he was carrying around the soccer ball like they were best buds. Now if only I could be that brave about clowns.

Nah, I don't think so.