Waiting for Sunrise by Eva Marie Everson (Book Review)

Waiting for Sunrise: A Cedar Key Novel by Eva Marie Everson


I've been waiting for this book to release ever since I finished Everson's Chasing Sunsets. I first got hooked on Everson's writing when I read This Fine Life.

Everson tackles some very tough issues in this novel without making it a total downer. Instead of the romanticized life, her characters are authentic, believable and easy to relate to...the way every character should be, right? Throughout this novel characters deal with the fallout of abusive childhoods and mental illness as well.

In this novel Everson utilizes flashbacks to keep the plot moving as well as keeping it interesting. I love that Everson excels at writing about ordinary people doing ordinary things with the same problems that many people deal with, but don't talk about.

In an age where many Christian authors are not talking about the hard subjects, it's encouraging to read work from an author who broaches such topics with class and grace while maintaining the integrity of the storyline.

While this is the "second" book in the Cedar Key Novels it can by all means be read alone, though if you haven't read Chasing Sunsets yet, I propose it be your next read!

I received a copy of this title for review purposes from Revell Publishing a division of Baker Publishing Group. All opinions are my own.

View all my reviews

Break

I'm taking a break.  I'll be back.  I'm still guest posting at Allume. There's nothing wrong.  I'll still be tweeting and facebooking like crazy.  I'll also be running the Better Writer facebook group.  Please (!!!) contact me.  I'm taking a break from blogging, not from my friends (like you!)

Can't wait to see you again on July 1!

One Word

photo credit

Be the best.

Be your best.

At first glance these statements don't seem all that different.  Take a moment, however and really look at them.  Be the best vs. be your best.

I've always wanted to excel; to be the best.  Whether it was getting the best grades, running the fastest, or lasting the longest, I wanted to be it.  That's just the way it was, but as I found out, you can never be the best at everything and most times there will be someone better than you.  Life is too short to master everything.

I grew up hiking with my dad.  Ever since I was little, I wanted to hike the 46 high peaks in NY state to become a member of the somewhat elite, 46-er club.  I'm kind of an all-or-nothing gal, so if I was going to hike it meant that I wanted to be the best hiker ever and hike not only the forty-six high peaks, but also Rainier, Washington and someday Everest.

Hold.the.phone.  What?

What began as friendly family time hikes turned into my own personal need to climb Everest?  Where did that come from?  Like I said, I'm competitive.  Doing well isn't enough, I have to perform the best.

There is a difference between being "the best" and "your best".  I'm not called to be the best in everything I do; I'm called to perform at MY best.  In hiking, my personal best might be to finish just one more hike--not necessarily to climb Everest.  Actually, I can tell you right now I am not called to climb Everest.  No really.  Won't happen.  In my mothering I am called to be the best mother I can be, but MY best mothering isn't supposed to look like your best mothering.  Doing my best might consist of taking all the kids out for McDonald's once a week so I can maintain my sanity while your best mothering might be never allowing your children to eat McDonald's.

The point I'm making is that we don't need to feel guilty when our best doesn't look the same as someone else's best because frankly, the gauge by which we measure our success is held by God, not us.

What is one area in which YOUR best looks 

different than THE best?

recap in pics

The past few weeks have been crazy busy!!  In the same way that things are ending for you, many of our Bible studies, MOPS groups, and other extracurricular activities are winding down.  Part of me is happy while the other part is super sad because I won't be seeing my friends as often.  Here's a recap of our busy week.....

our mommy & son date to the Avengers.

Epic.

Zahara and her troll, Pretty,

formerly known as Ugly.

these rocks are the best thing since solid food!

my muscle man

Ana sporting her normal 

attitude of 

'no way will I do what you want me to do' 

(looking at the camera)

the science museum where I met

Becky Daye of Daye by Daye

Becky and I 

Better Writer friends.

She wrote about how we came

to be friends here 

and did a better job than I could.

So if you're wondering, go here.

There's a baby starfish to the direct right of my

finger.  So tiny!!! There were hundreds in this tank!

I'm not sure what happened to my Pringles,

but this is what they looked like when I opened

the can.  Wowza!

Like I said, this week was a doozy for a 

few different weekends.  You can read a little

bit more about it here if you want.

I'm off adventuring this weekend,

but I'll be back on Monday. 

Until then....

adieu.

identity

Today's topic of identity fit so well with the series I just finished that I couldn't NOT write about it.  So here goes, five minutes, no editing :-)

My labels are long-stuck.  I've written them across myself with ink no one else can see.  Some of them are easily discerned.  Labels like mother are easily understood, especially when you see me out and about with my four hooligans.  Unless, you think I'm the babysitter, which according to recent comments, many people think I am.  
I'm alive so I must be someone's daughter, right?  Someone must have borne me.  She did and for her I am forever grateful. 
I have a brother, so that makes me a sister.  I have friends and so I am labeled a friend.  
But what about the labels of things I no longer am?  Throughout the past year I have been scrubbing away at a label and it's weird now that it's finally gone.  The seemingly permanent marker has been replaced by a shadow, a circle of un-tanned skin where a ring used to sit....it's a label, and it's gone.  
But there's one label that's indelible.  It's not tanned or white.  It's not removable, shake-able, or erasable, and that's the label that says I'm His.  
And no piece of paper can take that away. 

And This Brings You To Today...

Every pregnancy I have gone into labor earlier and earlier.  It's never been early enough to alarm anyone, but I knew with Isabella that I probably wouldn't make it past 38 weeks and that was just fine with me.  The night before I went into labor was the night of the septic tank debacle so after that ordeal my labor seemed pretty uneventful...we got to the hospital, yes, I' was really in labor, and then we just sat around, waiting for the baby to make her entrance.  Finally at five thirty PM on February 8, Isabella was born.  

She proceeded to have some issues just like her brother Roman had and we spent some time in the NICU.  <-----craziness.  

The crazy continued to take over life.  Many of you know that I'm single now.  The details which led to that are not something I'm willing to blog about, but I would like to pick up at the point at which I became single.  

Last August I moved into a house very close to my grandparents.  I always said I wanted to live in an old house, but I was sure that if I ever lived in an older house it would be in an old broken down farmhouse.  Instead, I moved into a charming 1920's house.  I'm in love with it and interestingly it was the one house I looked at that I thought I hated until I went through it...then I fell in love with it.  

Since then, I've been a single mom to four kids.  For inquiring minds, their dad is still very involved with them.  We might not be together, but he is a great dad and the kids have his undivided attention when they're with him.  I can't complain.  

That being said, the past ten months have not been easy; far from it, in fact.  I'm still learning how to walk through this unexpected season with a good attitude.  I struggle daily with how to keep a house clean, raise children who love God, and how to shoulder the many (albeit wonderful) responsibilities God has entrusted to me.  

Thank you so much for wanting to read my story.  My hope is that you've been able to see that through the ups and the downs, the scripted and the unexpected, that God was right there with me, the same way He promises to be for you.

Many blessings on you, friend.

Competitive

photo credit 

I've always had a competitive streak a mile long.  Whether it was in sports or academics I wanted to be the best.  The only exception was when it came to keeping my room clean...then I could not have cared less about who was better at that.  The same was true when I went to college and when I planned my career.  I've always wanted to perform well.

As an interpreter, my career path held interpreting concerts, high level college classes, and perhaps even applying for a CIA or FBI position.  There was never a place in my brain to aspire to be anything less than the best interpreter I could be.  Fast forward 6 (ish) years or so and find myself in a place where I can't interpret professionally anymore.

I went from being a professional interpreter to a full-time stay at home pretty much overnight.  Our hopes were that the damage from the incorrect shot would indeed heal with time.  It did heal a bit, but not enough to allow me to interpret professionally.

Going from working outside the home part-time to full-time stay at home mom was crazy.  Looking back I'm so thankful I was able to come home with my kids.  It took me a good six months to get used to that change.  That might seem like a lot of time, but also during that time, around the end of June we found out we were expecting baby number four which rocked.our.world.  And not in the "this is totally planned" sort of way.  If you've been keeping track, ALL of our babies were a surprise.  Well, with Roman we weren't NOT trying, but you get the picture.  Planning wasn't really our strong point when it came to babies.

Isabella's pregnancy was a struggle to put it mildly.  After only knowing I was pregnant for a few weeks, I had a sub-chorionic hemorrhage which caused us to almost lose Bella.  Isabella, however, kept my friends praying and me on pins and needles.  For the first twenty weeks anytime I had an ultrasound, played too roughly with the kids, or for any other reason I would start to miscarry again and have to take it easy.  It stunk to say the least.  There's a lot more I have to say on that subject so I'll save it for another post.

I'll leave you here, with me pregnant and waiting for the arrival of baby number 4 in less than 6 years.  Holy Hannah, I can't believe I just wrote that!

You Are A Writer

You Are A Writer by Jeff Goins
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

Are you teetering on the edge, staring over the precipice? Not sure if you should take the plunge? Who knew that the stringing together of the letters W.R.I.T.E.R. would be such a a difficult label with which to identify?

When people asked what I did I would reply with, "Sign language interpreter," or "blogger" or "stay at home mom." Never did I say what I really was, an alien. No, just kidding. A writer. That's what I am--a writer. Jeff's declaration that the day you become a writer is the day you DECIDE to become a writer is a breath of fresh air.

Every team, including Team Kristina, the Writer needs a cheerleader. Likewise, team Kristina, the Writer, also needs a good motivator (aka, kick in the pants). Jeff has managed to be combine the roles of team of the cheer squad as well as chief and master fire-lighter under the rears of his readers magnificently in his most recent work, You Are A Writer.

Now what?

There's a platform, and branding, and holy cow I have five ideas started and not one near completion. On top of that I don't even tweet, twit, twitter, chirp, whatever they call that! Can you sense the hyperventilation setting in?

Slow down, or as my mom used to say, "Hold your horses!" Take a deep breath and remind yourself that THIS is why you bought the book--because Jeff carefully and concisely touches on all of these subjects and delves deeply into many of them. Your mission, should you choose to accept it is to keep turning the pages.

Five stars. Count 'em. One, two, three, four, five. That's the rating I gave this book for the following reasons. First of all, it was brimming with great content. With informative chapters like, Writers are Born, Not Made, Establishing A Brand, and Before Your First Book, rest assured that the content of this book is invaluable. Well-organized and easy to read are two other descriptors that could be used for this book. As a mom of young kids my reading time is short and oft interrupted. You can very easily put this book down in the middle of a chapter to go clean up the loaf of bread that your kids tore into pieces in the living room (true story) and come back to pick up right where you left off. I have to admit though, that I toyed with the idea of letting the loaf of bread stay right where it was because I did not want to put this book down.

Secondly, this book is worth it just for the advice on branding and building a platform. Not really a writer, but still looking to build a brand? Three words. Buy. The. Book. I'm in the midst of a branding pickle myself, so that chapter was especially enlightening.

Altogether, this book is informative and inspiring. When I finished reading it I wanted to sit down with my computer and write. Forever. I also felt much more prepared to handle the media and marketing side that comes with being a writer.

Buy the book, you won't be disappointed. Ka-chow! (Is it evident we watch way too much Pixar around here?)

Many thanks to Jeff Goins, who provided a copy of this title in exchange for my honest review.  You can read more of Jeff's writing at his blog or find out more about his book here.

According to Plan (or not)

The couch was green.  Not a forest green or a pea green, but a bright, green apple green, like the caramel apple lollipops that leave your teeth stuck together with a pucker on your lips from the sour.  The firm cushions support her curled form as the tears course down her cheeks in rivulets.

Too many children...how could they kick them out now?  They knew the baby was coming and they'd still signed the paperwork, but now?  Now?

She buried her head in the pillow and cried until the tears wouldn't come any longer.  The baby cried tearing her from her sorrow; forcing her to stand, to move on.

Fast forward nine more months...

Her arm is throbbing.  The spot on her arm that was a pinprick just hours ago is swollen and red and her arm tingles as she sits.  The clock ticks incessantly marking seconds lost, precious time she would never get back and she waits.  The door opens and words she never expected spill out of the woman's mouth,

"We gave you the wrong shot."

She looks to her arm and to the woman and back again.  Her astonishment continues as they treat her and send her on her way.  

The next morning dawns early, as it always does with small children.  Eyes parting, the day is normal and predictable for all of thirty seconds until she remembers her arm, though today it feels different.  Her fingers aren't working the way they should.  Panic begins to set in as she wakes her husband and makes him watch her try to move her fingers.  They are stiff and unbending to her will.  And so the domino falls that careens into the next domino and the next until her life and her career as a sign language interpreter looks nothing like she expected it would. 

******

I'm so enjoying sharing my life with you.

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Numero Tres

photo courtesy of Bayasaa

I typed in the correct numbers on the computer and hesitantly clicked the "Calculate" button.  No, I wasn't figuring out the amortization rates for my mortgage, nor my monthly budget.  Nope.  As I watched the little hourglass I held my breath until the dates when our third child would be born popped onto the screen.  Third week of July, 2009.  Since God and I had made a deal that I would not carry much past 38 weeks (just kidding) that put the due date somewhere around July 4th.  How cool would that be?  I thought to myself.  As a self-proclaimed history nut, especially American history, there really wouldn't be a better day on which to be born.  

Fast forward...

It's morning and I can't remember the last time I slept for more than two hours without getting up to pee.  Last night was no different.  I shiver with excitement.  Today's the day.  Paul has the day off, we're going to the in-laws for a picnic and I know it deep down, that I'll get to meet "Cadence" today. Shame about the name, though.  I think to myself.  I wonder if I can still slip "Canon" in there.  Or maybe Independence.  

Before I could allow my thoughts to wonder much longer the other kids woke up and Paul and I busied ourselves getting ready for the festivities at his parents' house.  I started having contractions at some point in the morning and by the time we arrived at the party they were about ten minutes apart. My mother in law noticed me glancing at my watch and asked me if I was in labor.  When I confirmed her suspicions she shouted and was thrilled.  I just smiled and whispered something about hoping that they didn't stop.  We ate lunch and I continued contracting.  

Lunch was finally over and I was ready to get the heck out of dodge.  Labor wasn't too intense, it's just that, normally for me, once you break my water it's a pretty quick party.  Meaning, about an hour after you break my water you can expect a baby to arrive so in the interest of timing and that I wanted the baby to be born on July 4th, I wanted to get the show on the road.  I readied my things and made final checks on the other kids and the sitter only to find Paul settling into a card game on the living room floor with a few of his friends,

"Honey, whatcha doin?"  said the pregnant lady.

"Oh, hey, I was going to just play a game of cards."  said the husband.

"Um, no.  I think you are going to take me to the hospital."

"But you said,"

"No, I said, 'I will wait until after we ate.  It's after.  Let's go." 

Yep. That's pretty much how it went.  We left, went to the hospital and proceeded to have a baby. I'll try to spare you all the gory details, but my other two deliveries really weren't that painful.  It basically felt like the worst backache ever and LOTS of pressure, but that whole 'knife in your stomach' pain that everyone talks about?  Wasn't even a hint of it.  This time, however, I completely understand.  I literally felt like someone was stabbing me in my bellybutton all the way back to my backbone.  At one point I remember telling the nurse, "I need the medicine now, or I will lose control and I am not going to lose control."  What can I say, a control freak to the end.

My other two deliveries were completely natural and medication free as was my last one, but that third-born, dude.  And she has lived up to that nick-name.  Some memorable things happened when they gave me the Stadol.  Basically, I found out that I am extremely sensitive to IV painkillers which actually means, I was higher than a freaking kite.  I couldn't even open my eyes.  My in-laws came in to say hi and just keep me company because prior to the Stadol my labor had slowed and I was equally ticked and bored that this child hadn't come out yet.  I was laying on the bed with my eyes closed, carrying on a full conversation when I said something along the lines of,

"Wanda, (my MIL) you need to tell Pops to turn away or leave because I'm getting out of bed to go to the bathroom."  to which my mother in law responded by kicking herself and my father in law out of the room and saying they would be back later.  Within thirty seconds my "I have to go pee" turned into "Paul, I have to push.  Get the nurse now!" 

The nurses did not believe me.  They even told me "Don't push."  Like heck I'm not going to push!  The doctor made it into the room in time to play catcher to a 6 lb. 9 ounce little girl with the most mature face I had ever seen.  Ever. 

Said baby was named Evie Mae for all of one night.  We loved the nickname Evie and Paul liked Maria and I liked Anna and he like Cadence and I liked Canon (which got vetoed, I have no idea why) and finally, as we were waiting to be discharged (2 days later) we decided on Viviana (pronounce Vivi-onna) Maria. 

Before Thanksgiving

Our third child was unexpected to say the least.  I had known for a week that I was expecting before I told Paul and afterwards we were still in shock.  One Monday evening, the week of Thanksgiving 2008, Paul came home to tell me that he had been let go.  It was the year of the recession and the economy was bad and blah, blah, blah.  So suddenly, within two weeks we found ourselves expecting and jobless.  Well, I was still working as an interpreter, but Paul was jobless.

Now, backtracking a bit, before we were ever dating, Paul was supposed to go into the Navy to be a SEAL.  However, in a freak accident with my cousin, Paul tore his ACL and needed surgery.  At that point in time any reconstructive surgery like the ACL repair meant that Paul was disqualified.  Prior to him being laid off in 2008, we had been praying about the military and this seemed like the perfect opportunity for Paul to train for the Navy, so we prayerfully started inquiring.  Soon I was done puking and well on my way to being a happily pregnant lady with a husband who was in the Navy.  Paul was shipping out the following November and we were continuing as planned, but our life was still crazy because I was working and he was laid off.

*****

On a side note, I still believe, to this day that we were walking in the direction we were supposed to go regardless of the outcome.  Looking back it was crazy, but God said go and we went.  Even with the way things turned out, I know that we were doing exactly what we were supposed to be doing.

some pictures

In the midst of all the words I've been hitting you with I thought I'd give you some pictures from the earlier years...in other words, when we had only two children.  Sorry about the quality on these, but they are a bit older.  Enjoy!

Zahara ( a few weeks old )

Roman ( 3 ish months old)

It would be a whopping fifteen months before we'd find out we were pregnant again.  During that time Roman was hospitalized for pneumonia, we had to move out of our apartment due to toxic mold, we lived with my mom in a 600 square foot house for 6 months while we waited to close on our house, we bought a house, and just about when I was feeling fantastic about having only two kids our entire lives got turned upside down in the matter of two weeks. 

More about that next time!

If We Hadn't Gone to the NICU

Roman was in the NICU because of a bowel obstruction, or so we thought.  Protocol dictates that whenever a baby is transferred to the NICU from an outlying hospital, the nurse practitioner draws blood prior to leaving the original hospital.  No big deal, right?

We left Roman in the hospital the first night and as I said in my last post we went home without a baby which is surreal.  The next day we got the amazing news that the surgeons had been able to remove Roman's blockage without surgery!  Praise God!  We were psyched that our little man would soon be making his way home, but with the good news of the removed blockage came the even more devastating news that he had a blood infection.  Indeed, his little body was being ravaged by e. coli and now he would have to fight that battle as well as stay in the NICU for at least another two weeks.

So we stayed.  Our families rallied around us and our church family was amazing.  They helped us with childcare, gave us meals, and just were all around supportive.  One vivid memory is me sitting in the chair in "D" nursery which was three steps up from the "A" nursery where we came in.  I was rocking Roman and just cuddling with him when a nurse began asking me about his history.  I told her the story and her jaw completely dropped.  She went on to tell us that most newborns, by the time they spike a fever or drop their temperature due to a blood infection they normally just come to the NICU to die.  That there's nothing you can do for them.

To this day I still think about that.  God used what we thought was so horrible, a bowel obstruction, to get my son the medicine he needed two days prior to us even knowing he needed it.  I am forever amazed at that kind of preemptive protection.  How many other times in my life has God protected me when I was not even aware that I needed protection?

Roman finished out his two weeks in the NICU and we took him home.  Being a family of four never felt so good.

*****

What Does a Baby Do? {Paths Series}

What exactly, may I ask, does a newborn do?  I mean, what fills their day?  If you answered anything reminiscent of eat, sleep, and poop, then you, my friend are a smart person.  Unfortunately, our little man, Roman wasn't doing two of those three things.  He was sleeping ALL.THE.TIME, but he wasn't pooping and he wasn't eating.

I started freaking out a little bit.  The time to take my little man home was quickly approaching and meanwhile he wasn't eating.  Every couple hours he would be roused from his slumber by vomiting.  Now, I know what normal I-was-just-recently-inside-the-womb gunk looks like and this was not it.  This was bright, yellow bile.  One more hilarious encounters was with one of his nurses.  I showed her one of his spit up rags and said something along the lines of, "See, this isn't breast milk and it's not amniotic fluid.  Something's wrong."

She looked at me with that expression that dripped condescension and said, "Oh no, honey, that's just colostrum."

"Unless y'all are breastfeeding my baby in the hallway, it isn't colostrum because he hasn't eaten in two days, so I think you have no clue what you are talking about.  I want to see Cheri."  Cheri was my doctor.

Basically, Cheri came in later that day to discharge us and instead Roman went through a barium swallow (it's torture watching your baby on an x-ray table at two days old screaming and puking and knowing you can't step in.  torture.) and thankfully a very good friend who was also our nurse had the wherewithal to stop the test because it wasn't working and wheel all of us, baby included, back to our room.  Within ten minutes Roman had an IV and I was on the phone with people telling them that he was being shipped to Crouse NICU (about 30 minutes away) and that he would have surgery.  We were braced for surgery, a colostomy bag, the entirety of his intestines being removed, and no contact sports ever.  At least that's what we were told.  Roman had a bowel obstruction that filled his entire large intestine.  I was bawling and frankly, overwhelmed.  The transport team came, suited him up in his transport incubator and drove off with him.  Paul and I followed a few minutes later.

My memories of this experience are simultaneously sharp and hazy.  I remember the moment they told me about surgery vividly, but the moments of saying goodbye before he left on the ambulance are fuzzy.  I remember the first cheeseburger and Coke I had as we waited for the specialists to see him so we could go back upstairs and touch him again.  It was odd going from this baby as a part of me, to picking him up whenever I pleased, to having to ask permission to even touch him in the NICU.  Surreal cannot even begin to describe it.  I walked into our house at the time and had no idea what to do with myself because you're not supposed to leave your baby at the hospital...you're supposed to bring them home with you.

We don't have many pictures from this time, but here are a few of my little man in the NICU.  This is after he had been there for a week so he was unhooked from most of his monitors and was wearing "big boy" clothes which really means, he didn't have to be naked anymore.

Cravings - The Devotional

I've been a mom for almost seven years now and I've had my ups and downs.  There are days that I can fit in a full homework page from Beth Moore and more often it's eleven o'clock and I still have yet to even glance in my Bible's direction.  Thankfully, a fellow mom, Carey C. Bailey has devised a tool for those days that you just don't get a chance to dig in deep like you want.

Aren't they cute?  I keep them right next to my stove because I'm bound to see them there.

Here's a close up of the card

You get a verse, a small 'thoughtlet' as Carey calls it, 

and an action/applications step for the day.

Delightful!

I love this idea.  It's not meant to replace thoughtful time in Bible study, but you know those days where you have one or two sick with the stomach bug and you can't even take a breath?  Carey's devotionals are perfect for that because they are just enough to get you through until the next time you can take a breather.  

My favorite part of these are the application/action step.  Biblical wisdom is great, but if you never go a step further and apply it, then it really didn't do you any good, eh?  Cravings makes up for that by supplying you with a thought-out action plan.

If you're interested in purchasing Cravings for a mom (what a great baby shower gift) you can do so here.

Win a Minute-for-Mom gift pack from Carey Bailey! "When I became a mom I lost my God time," says Carey Bailey. "I couldn't figure out how to fit it in, since everything but that time was a priority. So I made note cards that I set around my house with scriptures written on them. Even when my arms were too full of babies, laundry, and diapers to pick up a Bible, I could easily read God's words of encouragement that I was starving for"

And Cravings--The Devotional was born. Celebrate with Carey by entering her Minute-for-Mom Giveaway!

One grand prize winner will receive:

• $50 gift card to Erin Condren Shop (Your one-stop-shop for all things awesome!)
• $50 gift card to Victoria's Secret® (For something pretty.)
• $25 gift card to Bath & Body Works® (For a little spa treatment.)
• 2 Sets of Cravings - The Devotional (For you and a friend.)
• Scentsy Plug In and 2 Bars (A lovely scent for your space.)

Hurry, the giveaway ends on 5/12/12. The winner will be announced 5/14/12 on Carey’s blog!

Just click one of the icons below to enter! Tell your friends about Carey's giveaway on FACEBOOK or TWITTER and increase your chances of winning.

******

I received a complimentary copy of Cravings for review purposes.  All opinions expressed are mine and mine alone.

The Baroness {book review}

Baroness by Susan May Warren
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

Roaring twenties, Paris, girls, glitz, boys, and longing--throw them all together and you have a marvelous plot brewing that just begs to be written out in a novel. Susan May Warren did just that in her novel The Baroness. The Baroness is book two in a trilogy, the first being The Heiress. I did not read the first book in this series and I was a bit worried about whether or not I would be able to follow it or if I would be missing details pertinent to this story. Thankfully, my anxiety was completely unnecessary as Ms. Warren masterfully wove details from The Heiress into this novel. She tucked enough clues into the Baroness to not only give me all the details I needed, but also I want to go back and read The Heiress!

Many times in life we find ourselves wondering when enough is enough-how many times can bad things happen to the same family. I'm sure Lilly and Rosie, the main characters in The Baroness ask themselves this time and time again. This fast=paced, descriptive novel will hook you on the first page and reel you in all the way to the very last.

Ms. Warren is one of my favorite Christian authors. I've cut back quite a bit on the titles I review, but I review Ms. Warren's every chance I get and once again she did not disappoint.

I received a complimentary copy of this book for review purposes. All opinions are my own.

Enter Today - 4/18-5/7!

Baby #2

As with the announcement of any pregnancy, life begins to change even prior to the child's birth.  It was the same for me.  One day it just hit me that in a little less than nine months I would have yet another child.  What really bothered me about that was that Zahara only had a little less than nine months of one-on-one time with just me and her dad.  After much thought and consideration, I decided to take a break from college and instead use those two days a week to be home with Zahara. I still continued to work three days a week, but those other days were used to clean my house and just be a mom to my little girl.  It was the best decision I've ever made.

The pregnancy with Ro progressed wonderfully.  I was sicker than a dog and somewhat scared of the impending birth.  The first time around I was up for anything.  This time, I knew what I was in for and it freaked me out a bit.  I was a pain in the rear end to my OB and had been dilated 4 cm for two weeks at that point.  Finally she told me that if I came to the hospital with regular contractions and IF I had made progress, she would break my water.  Dude, I left that appointment, went home and started cleaning.  I slept that night, woke up the next morning and I have never walked so much in my entire life.  I remember Paul calling me from work at about three and I was walking Zahara around the block in the stroller.  He proceeded to chide me with stories of "giving birth on the sidewalk" to which I answered something reminiscent of "I have worked to darn hard to have these contractions stop now..."  There may have been some stronger language involved, but I don't remember for sure.

Fast forward and after a great and "easy" birth, Roman Michael was born and we were all doing great.  It was eleven o'clock at night when we had our first visitors and I charged my in-laws, aka the grandparents an admission fee of a slice of pizza to see their new grandson.  I was starving.  

*****

more tomorrow...

no, really, I promise.

and pictures! 

In Which We Move Out

absolutely not my housephoto courtesy of james.thompson

Here's parts one and two if you want to be brought up to speed. :-)

After almost a year our little family forged our way to our new digs.  It was a wee apartment and when I say wee, I mean probably four hundred square feet.  It consisted of a living room, a kitchen with a counter at which to eat all of my marvelous (snort) cooking, a bathroom just large enough to turn around in, and two bedrooms.  It was small, but it was our own place.  I decided to go back to work as a sign language interpreter as well as attend classes at Rochester Institute of Technology two days a week in an attempt to finish my degree.  You know, the one I was halfway towards getting when the stick turned pink?  Yeah, that one.

My weekly schedule was as follows:  M, W, F - Work as an interpreter in a classroom setting; T and TH drive two hours to Rochester, sit in class for four hours straight, do videotaping for homework in the lab and lastly drive two hours home to see the family.

I burned out quickly.

About the same time we also started looking for a new apartment because the one we lived in had some issues, ie water and mildew issues from improper grading.  With a crawling little one we decided to head out and moved into the apartment that would truly be what I deemed, My First Home.  We loved the little apartment and I especially loved that we had a washer and dryer.  The only thing better than having my own washer and dryer would be if I had someone to do that chore for me, but that wasn't happening anytime this century, so I settled for being ecstatic about not carting laundry to and from the laundromat.  I was also super-excited that I had a washer and dryer when the stick turned pink for the second time.  Yes, you read that right.  Only 11 months after Zahara's birth I was pregnant with baby number two.

We celebrated Christmas with all the blinking lights and presents you can imagine.  Zahara was the belle of every celebration as the first and only grandchild on both sides and the video of us telling my mother-in-law that she was going to be a grandmother again was epic.  Epic.  There was lots of screaming and she threw a doll that she was holding into the air, but the way we caught it on tape it looked like she kicked Zahara into the air.  I would post it if I could, but you'll have to take my word for it.

*****

Things have been pretty normal up until now, but in the next

installment life goes a little crazy as we have our first 

experience with the NICU. 

Paths (part 2) FINALLY

photo courtesy of a.drian
Where did we leave off?
Oh yes, I was crying on my way to the honeymoon.

Fast forward to after the honeymoon and we house sat for a bit, then moved in with my dad because he was living all alone in a big house and needed the company.
Translated:  We were dirt poor and Paul would be out of work for an upcoming surgery and my dad happened to have an empty room.

Re-cap:  Pregnant in April, Married in June, Paul's ACL reconstruction in October, Baby in December...say what?

You know how you hear wives complaining about what they're going to do after their husbands retire because they drive them nuts when they are home all day and not working?  Yep, four months into our marriage we were dealing with retirement type issues.  I do have some fond memories, though of Paul on painkillers because he talks in his sleep anyways, but dude, painkillers make it America's Funniest Home Videos worthy.  Enough about that.

I'm one of those people that most pregnant women hate because when I'm pregnant, I'm all baby.  It looks like I'm all basketball, but no, it's a baby.  My doctor told me that there was, and I quote, "No way in heaven you will make it until your due date."  Hmmmph.  Four days AFTER my due date, Zahara was born leaving me sore and with only half of my blood.  At the risk of oversharing, turns out I'm a bleeder so after fainting in the shower and losing any shred of dignity I had left which wasn't much, I found myself in bed, sucking down apple juice, and wanting nothing more than to sleep for the next five years.

We came home on New Year's Day 2006 with our little tax exemption.  If you want to know why we named her Zahara, feel free to read this post.

*****

I'm not sure how many parts this story will have. 

I'm sure it will be longer than necessary 

since God has gifted me with words.

many, many words.

If you missed Part 1 

you can read it here.

In other fun news, I'm giving away

a Village Candle this week.

Here's the link for that!

Candles....{a giveaway}

I'm sure it comes as no surprise to you that my house doesn't always smell the greatest.  I have lofty goals of having my house smell like fresh baked cookies or apple pie, but more often than not it smells, well, not so pretty.

Obviously, there are a few ways I can remedy this situation--candles, sprays, or plug-ins.  Frankly, sprays gag me.  Always have, always will.  They kind of remind me of when my brother used to spray too much of that "boys only" body spray to cover up the "boys only B.O." that clung mercilessly to him and everything that belonged to him.  You know how they all kind of smelled the same?  Hmmm, see why I'm adverse to sprays?

Plug-ins bug me because they use electricity and I don't really want to use my electricity just to make my house smell nice.

Candles, however, candles are my weak spot.  I've always loved candles and my dad, fireman that he was, rarely let me burn candles as a teenager.  Hence, I'm making up for it now by burning candles all.over.my.house.  Okay, I'm just kidding with that because four kids and a house full of fire hazards don't really mix.  That's the number one reason I love Village Candles...I can burn one, just one candle on my kitchen stove and I can smell it everywhere in the house.  Yes, even upstairs in the bathroom I can smell my candle, but not in an overpowering way, just in a I-don't-smell-all-the-other-nasty-stuff sort of way.

Recently, the folks from Village Candle sent me one of their brand spankin' new candles to review and they even gave me the privilege of giving one away to one of my readers....sweet!

I'll admit, a first I was extremely skeptical about the Sweet Buttercream scent.  I'm not a big floral person and I prefer the smell of baked good as opposed to florals, but buttercream?  I wasn't sure it would be detectable through the house.  I was pleasantly surprised.  This subtle scent lingered in the house and added a layer of warmth to the dwelling.  I loved it.  Another plus is the two-wicks in the candle that allow it to burn down evenly.  That means no pushing or carving away at the wax.  It also means, no leftover wax!

I know you are all just drooling, either from thinking about Sweet Buttercream or in jealousy of such a lovely candle.  So here's how you can enter to win one....

1.)  Visit the Village Candle website and then come back here and leave a comment telling me what your favorite scent is.  (Mandatory)

2.)  LIKE Village Candle on Facebook

3.)  FOLLOW @VillageCandle on Twitter

leave a comment for each action for a total of 3 entries!  

The giveaway will close on Friday April 27th at 11:59 pm
Giveaway is now closed.

******

I received a 22 oz. Sweet Buttercream candle for review purposes.  I received no other compensation for my review and the opinions are all my own.

******

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