Monthly Archives: April 2009

Cause and Effect

Prime time TV is prime time crankiness.

Watching DVR’d shows at midnight feedings or durning nap time isn’t so bad.

Dinner, lunch or breakfast, I’m lucky to consume anything at all.

How many times can I microwave my lunch, or is it now dinner?

Phone calls, cut short by wails.

Returning calls via e-mail; not personal, but at 2AM, what is?

Days go by too fast for basic chores.

Vacuuming never suffers since it calms tiny ones!


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When I grow up…

It is so exciting to see my daughter have so much ambition.  It is also so exciting to be able to help her achieve her dreams by encouraging her to stick to dance and study every night.  She can be anything she wants to be and we’re here to encourage her when times get tough or she gets discouraged or bored.

I am just now developing these skills in myself.  I know that I want to write, but I’m not sure what I want to write or how to make a living doing it.  I have been diligent and written every day this week.  I am working on those little things to reach my bigger goals.  

Jeff is a working actor.  I am so inspired by his hard work and dedication to his craft.  He prepares for every audition and goes out for everything.  Jeff is not afraid to try new techniques or do different things to get a part.  He’s not afraid to put himself out there.  He knows he won’t be great every time or at every new thing he tries.  He continues to try and learn from what doesn’t work and is very successful because of it.

I am trying to learn from the harsh criticisms of my poetry class.  I am trying to write every day and develop good writing habits.  I am trying to take the suggestions my teacher made and applying them.  I am trying to see past myself when it comes to my writing.     I’ll keep doing these little things and learning from my mistakes.  I’ll also try to get past my feelings getting hurt and apply some of the suggestions made from the critiques.  We’ll see!

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A bad poet?

Okay, so poetry isn’t my forte.  I didn’t get good reviews of the following in class.  I tweaked it and I kind of like it now.  What do you think?  I’m trying to branch out and be a better writer over all.  I’m proud of my ballad, but maybe I’m too close to the project.  This poetry class had been a blow to my ego, but I’m learning to take criticism better.  Maybe my poetry is crappy.  Oh well, practice makes perfect!  By the way, this is partially true, partially fiction, so no grief about the subject matter, please.  🙂 

Ballad of Becoming Dad


Daddy died an untimely death.

Drank too much alcohol.

Never woke up that morning.

His brother made the call.


His boy always needed extra help.

A late bloomer was he.

Working two jobs, just started another.

New one was putting letters on the marquis.


The Texas night was windy.

The fish joint was shorthanded.

Boy was asked to update the sign.

From twenty feet, on his he landed.


Broken ankles, back, and both feet.

He was rushed by ambulance.

Surgeries and months in the hospital.

Broken body parts and his countenance.


Family helped the boy in his need.

Gave him a home. Only had to keep it clean.

Offered to pay for school, he refused.

He treated members like foes, their fiend.


Boy received small settlement.

To him it was a large sum.

Instead of giving to family for his bills.

Spent it on pizza, guitars, beer, the bum!

Now he’s like his father.

Success he does dread.

Drinking away his life.

Drinking until he’s dead.


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It’s a Pity…

It’s a pity that the benefits of marriage don’t apply to everyone and some couples are desciminated against.

It’s a pity that a city can tell private businesses where their patrons can smoke (or can’t.)

It’s a pity that free speech is just an idea and that unpopular words, pictures, or ideas are censored. 

It’s a pity that a Miss America contestant is condemned for her view even if we don’t agree or it is not politically correct.

It’s a pity that our right to protect our family, self and property might be in jeopardy.

It’s a pity that we don’t help one another voluntarily and we’re forced to fund welfare with our paychecks.

It’s a pity that everyone wants to be bailed out and not face the consequences of their poor decisions.

It’s a pity that some don’t think women should be able to make choices for their own bodies and lives.

It’s a pity that in the home of the free, I feel greatly restricted and less free every day.

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Easton Wayne Fenter

106_0086Easton Wayne Fenter was born March 19, 2009 at 10:46 PM.  He weighed eight pounds five ounces and was twenty one and a half  inches long.  He was born at the Birth and Women’s Center in Dallas, all natural.  

I went to the midwife for my weekly appointment and she said that my bag of waters was bulging and that I could go into labor at any time.  Jeff and Sydney surprised me (it was spring break and they left his morning job early) and met me at the birth center.  We went out for breakfast at Cafe Brazil (my favorite!!)  Before Sydney and I left for home and Jeff for work, I decided to try to go to the bathroom again.  I felt funny.  My water broke in the bathroom!  

I followed Jeff to STAGE so that he could leave a note about why it was closed.  He also had to call his friend to set up their March Madness brackets.  We headed home to wait for the contractions to start.  

We walked around, packed, watched TV, called everyone we knew, finished some work and then decided to head to the Birth Center around two in the afternoon.  I wasn’t having strong contractions, but wanted to be there in case things started moving quickly.  Jeff’s family met us up there a couple of hours later.  My parents had just left for an out of town meeting and their plane just landed when I called to tell them that my water broke!  Mom thought I was kidding.

We walked around the park and hung out until my contractions really started up at about six that evening.  I was told to walk more and squat during the contractions.  That was not fun!  I was not progressing past five centemeters and the contractions were the same degree as the worst ones I had with Syd.  I was getting a little anxious about not progressing.

The midwife manually helped to dilate my cervix.  I have never felt so much pain in my life!!  She made me yell out.  I could handle contractions and pushing out a big headed baby, but that part was unbearable.  After not progressing for a couple of hours and having intense contractions, I was getting tired and asked to take a bath to relax.  I was also give a pill to help me dialate further.

I got into the bath some time after 9:30 and felt so good that I didn’t get out until Easton was born at 10:46!  The warm water felt so good.  The contractions were so hard that my stomach looked like something from the movie “Alien.”  It was pointy and weird looking.  Jeff was a wonderful coach except for the constant beeping from his phone.  He was texting everyone during the whole thing.  If I wasn’t trying to find my “happy place” I would have reached out and drowned that damn phone!  He really was good about being there for me and talking me through the tough parts.

Jeff’s mom and sister were in the bathroom with us.  I don’t remember much, but I do remember Tiffany asking the midwife about what was causing me to grunt.  I was pushing!  I pushed maybe fifteen minutes and could feel the baby almost come out then slide back up.  It was a little discouraging, but he was out in no time.  After the fourth or fifth push, the midwife told Jeff it was time.  With the next push, Jeff pulled out the baby (I was still in the tub!) and put him on my chest.  Everyone had to ask what we had.  Jeff forgot to look!  He was so excited, but then lifted a leg and yelled out “it’s a boy!”

Jeff cut the cord and took to be dried off.  Sydney had come in right before I started pushing to give me support and then came in immediately after I had the baby to meet her new brother.  They left and I finished the after birth process in the tub.  I  was then  transferred to the huge bed where I had planned to give birth in the first place.  Under water births are for hippies.  I guess I am officially a hippie!  I will not give birth any other way, now.  

I got into bed with the baby, Jeff and Sydney.  The midwife and crew measured, weighed and all that good stuff while we got to know the little man.  We moved to the upstairs bed after about an hour so that another mom could use the tub.  We stayed the minimum four hours and left for home at about 2:30 AM.  We would have stayed the night, but poor Beans didn’t have dinner.  

It was an awesome experience and I can’t wait to do it again (obviously it has been awhile and I’ve healed!)

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We’ve survived the first month,now what?

Okay, I’ll have lots of baby details, but not now. Easton Wayne was born March 19 and I’ll have the story tomorrow.  I have lots of things I want to do in my life.  I have a hard time with the small things.  I think I’ve written about that before.  Here is my attempt to do something different.  

I don’t get up when I need to in the mornings, nor do I go to bed early.  I need to get up despite how rough of a night we’ve had.  I need to write every day.  I need to be honest with myself and others no matter how I think others will feel or what they’ll think.  If I have a problem, I need to address it and not hope it goes away.  I usually forget what my problem was in the first place.  I need to quit being a puss.  

One thing I’ve learned from my last required bullshit class (turns out it wasn’t a bullshit class!) is that I can’t let life interfere with my “art.”  I’m no artist, but hopefully one day I will be able to make a living by writing.  I must write to be a writer.  I’m writing…I need to be more child like.  Children are passionate and not afraid of failure or trying something new.  Children are also brutally honest.  

I need to be honest when there’s conflict. Jeff is the only person that I am not afraid to say what I think and feel.  I’m not afraid of hurting his feelings.  There is such a trust and love there that I need to tell him exactly what is on my mind.  Sure, I try not to be hateful and say things in the most loving way, but I am completely honest with him.  I can’t say that about anyone else.  I am mostly honest with my mom.  There are some things I hold back so that I avoid conflict, but I’m mostly not afraid of the truth with her and Bob.  I’m honest with my kids, but try to keep certain truths age appropriate.  

Okay, there’s a few things I need to work on.  Oh yeah, I need to floss more and take my vitamins and watch what I eat.  I need to be my best.  I can put away my clean clothes as soon as they are folded.  Jeff’s nice enough to do the laundry.  I should put it up and not let it pile up.  I need to write.  A writer writes.  I’m writing.  

What do you think about this poem?  I’m a crappy poet, but am working on the craft.  Here it goes, I’m putting myself out there for honest criticism.  I got my feelings hurt when I got a low score, but I am a writer working on her craft.  Here’s me being crafty!  This is a villanelle style poem, which is why two of the lines repeat:

Dreaming of the Way Things Were

I shut my eyes wishing for sleep

Trying not to listen for muffled breaths

I have never counted so many sheep


Hours dive into pool of night, deep

Drowning and suffocating our sanity

I shut my eyes wishing for sleep


Half awake, from his room I creep

Finally falling into dreamland’s depths

I have never counted so many sheep


From my blissful reprieve I leap

Maybe a nap, later, to refresh

I shut my eyes wishing for sleep


Isn’t it your turn, I dare think

My staying home you didn’t appose

I have never counted so many sheep


Daylight through my blinds seep

Precious bundle only needs to be close

I shut my eyes wishing for sleep

I have never counted so many sheep

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