Full of Bliss

One post down.

Second post down.

Third post coming out tomorrow.

Fourth post pending review by my editor.

I could, or rather, AM, getting very used to this.

I try to submit at least two posts every week, which means I've gotten into the daily habit of writing. Writing. Every day. Plus, I currently have a list of ideas for future submissions which should keep me busy for a while.

I am mindful of saving each post on my backup drive, as these are the articles I will ultimately use to snag other writing gigs.

Anybody have a laptop they need to sell. Cheap?

Seriously, seeing my name in print (in lights) and seeing my work published makes me giddy. Give me this and some age-fighting skin care any day.

Once again, for those of you who are slow with math, I'll review the equation one more time:

Writing + Mary Kay = Joyful woman, wife, mother, and friend.

Sounds like bliss.

Remembering that Dream

Remember this post from almost a year ago?

No? That's ok. I do.

Briefly, the post, (and several of the one's that follow), documents the beginning of how I developed an enormous craving for writing. A craving which I have actively pursued. Almost a year since writing that particular post, I am beginning to experience how marrying my creative drive to write, and my business/administrative (and creative side) as a Mary Kay consultant, could be a fabulous union.

I have begun submitting articles here and there.

I have written for a local PR agency.

I am still consistently selling the fabulous products on my shelf.

And now?

I am happy to report that I have been accepted as a contributor for Blissfullydomestic.com, an online magazine.

My first post was "published" just yesterday. I stared at it. First, shocked that it was mine. And second, trying to stop myself from criticizing it and wanting to tweak it. That was the editor's job.

I'll be submitting 2-4 articles a month. There are about 16 of us who write for the Family Bliss section of the magazine, so I could, quite possibly, get a lot of web-time. And the more I get published the better - for I can then turn around and use these articles as a means of getting more writing gigs in the future.

In fact, I think I have a lead for a paid writing gig with an online magazine specifically geared towards mom's living in the Pittsburgh area.

Both of my employment choices are risky.

Writing is subjective. I can work really hard on an article only to have it denied or edited to the point where I don't recognize it.

Mary Kay depends on sales. Straight up. It's fun. But, Mama doesn't just pay the bills by lookin' purty.

However, marry the two and I'm a happy woman, wife, and mother.

If there weren't any risk involved, then it wouldn't be a dream. Right?

Got one of your own? What's your risky dream?

Decisions, Decisions?

This is me.

Well, this was me until I announced to a table of 10 people on my 39th birthday that I would choose not to approach 40 in fear.

It's not that I'm scared about the age 40, as I don't even feel 30, so my fear is not an aging thing. And come on. Let's face it. I have great skin. ;)

The fear that I own is a fear that I've had all my life, boxed up in the basement of my "house".

It's the fear of truly "going for it". The fear of really committing to a goal, attacking that goal, and fighting for that goal. Why? Because of the risk of failing at that goal. Yep. I said it. The very cliche "fear of failure" excuse.

In college, I decided not to go for a theater degree due to this fear.

After college I never really sought a job in video production due to this fear.

The one thing I didn't approach fearfully was marriage to George, and ironically enough, he is the one who is constantly encouraging me not to make decisions based upon fear. Go figure.

I defininitely have that "fear of failure" obstacle hanging out in my yard.

And yet, there is another.

Part of my not pursuing a full-time career in coaching or casting is due to being overwhelmed by this fear and thus being left without the energy to completely engage all my efforts into securing a role in that world. Well, that, and the fact when I think back to all the shows I've directed and classes that I've taught, and children that I've coached, I am overcome with a feeling of exhaustion.

I spent years teaching children and directing theater. I directed and choreographed my first musical at Trinity without knowing what I was doing, being so filled with anxiety and the desire to do an incredible job that I even found myself sleepwalking through the process. Just ask George, who watched me walk into doors and would find me choreographing in the dead of night. I gave those productions my all, while awake and asleep (in fact several bits of choreography literally came from dreams). Interestingly enough, however, these years of directing, were all before I had children, and thus a time in my life when I could throw every fiber into the job. Now, when I think about doing that again, I just feel tuckered out. And, yes, scared that I could never muster it up again.

So, now there are two obstacles invading my property: fear of failure and fatigue.

Now, I'm at another crossroad. I've already conquered the writing fear by pursuing the current part-time writing gig that I have. I feel completely unqualified for the position, but I am learning the ropes as I go.

And this past weekend, Mary Kay stared me right in the face. (Well not Mary Kay in a literal sense. That would be darn right creepy). Now, I'm not one to get all caught up in the excitement and enthusiasm that seeps out of every pore of the Mary Kay world. It's a positive world, that's for sure. But, make no mistake, I'm not in a "pink bubble", nor do I drink "pink kool-aid". I can not be swayed to manufacture emotions in order to be a part of the moment. I'm not much of a follower in that regard. Hmmm . . . Harper and I are seeming more and more alike these days.

I was able to attend Seminar with a very clear head. My goal? To see a bigger picture of the company and to figure out, on my own, without influence from those who seem to know what my goals should be and want to communicate them to me, why I have been shrugging off the idea of becoming a Sales Director. All weekend I was asked, "So, what's your next goal?" to which I would answer, "Team Leader". Which was quickly countered with, "How about becoming a Director?" or "Next year I'd loved to see you here in the Director suit." However, I didn't want anyone to tell me their goals for me. Like Dorothy, (yep, that's an "Oz" reference), who figured it out in the end, I too needed to find my goal, on my own, and claim it for my own. Anything else and the goal wouldn't truly be mine, but rather just an expectation, developed and fashioned by someone else, to which I would feel an obligation to live up to.

And yes, I did come to the conclusion that I would like to be a Sales Director. I came to realize that I am my worst obstacle . . . for no one in my life has ever fed me the idea that I would fail and this feeling of fatigue is a fairly new development over the past few years, and quite frankly, irritating. Nope, both of these obstacles have been taking up residence in my brain for far too long and are utterly useless to me. G'bye.

I was trying figure out last night, after a Color 101 Thank You party that I hosted for consultants and their guests, why I feel compelled to fight for moving up in this company and not with the acting coaching or casting.

The answer came to me in a flash. Or, as George would put it, a "blinding flash of the obvious". I feel pretty strongly that my days on stage are done. I don't say that mournfully. I just mean that if, (and that's a heavy if), I go back to performing, it will definitely be later in life when the kids are older, as right now, in our current phase of life, the time commitment for such a life is counter to what I want for our family. I want to be here. I want to be present. I don't always do a great job on the home front and I lose my patience, and I don't clean the place everyday and I'm addicted to blogging, but I'm here. All day, and after school through dinnertime. For the first time in a few years, I am home for dinner. I may not cook dinner and I may drive everyone in this house completely crazy, but I'm home. And I want to be home. To many, this may sound like a cop out; to give up on a talent and skill that is deeply embedded in the structural make up of who I am. But . . . as I realized last night, I am not giving up that talent and skill. A Ha!

Last night, I stood in front of a room full of women, some customers, some consultants, and realized that I am using those same talents that I perfected for the stage. Public Speaking, Motivation, Communication, Humor, Listening, Timing, Entertainment. I stand up in front of women every week presenting Mary Kay. I use a script (my flipchart) which I very skillfully use as a tool while interjecting my own improvisation through the presentation. I'm committed to the product, so I'm not merely selling, but rather sharing my enthusiasm. I have to be engaging, or the "audience" will tune out, etc. What do I want? Well, I'd love for everyone to purchase! But, I've also found that some women are interested in becoming consultant's themselves, which leads to my being able to help educate, motivate, and celebrate other women!

For years, I've been teaching these skills to youngin's, without having the opportunity to use them for myself! These are the very skills that my soul longs to use everyday! Mary Kay has afforded me the ability to "perform", albeit not a character, but, well, hopefully you get it.

Mary Kay's theme for 2009 is THINK big, WORK smart, SHINE on. Or, THINK, WORK, SHINE, 2009. Catchy.

I accept.

I can either decide not to decide to move onward and upward, thus remaining stuck and stagnant in my fear of failure and fatigue, or I can take a step forward, while using the talents and skills that I have worked to perfect as an actress, only now, as a Sales Director with Mary Kay.

So, I have decided to Think like a Director. I will Work in order to become one. And I will Shine at the end of the Mary Kay year when I've become one.

Geez, just writing it makes me fearful and fatigued.

Doh!

"A person who decides not to decide, has already decided."

Ideal Mornings

Yeah, no, this isn't me.

But, the photo feels like me. At least it feels like the me of the last two days. It's the me I wish to see. Without the hunching over, as I still have knot's in my back from sitting at the computer with horrible posture, and stressing over my schedule for the Fall. Read on.

I've had two ideal mornings. The ideal I have in mind for myself. The ideal which includes waking up and getting everyone where they need to be and then returning home to sit and write for the PR gig, while enjoying a non-rushed cup of coffee, and then using the remainder of the morning to make the Mary Kay phone calls and follow ups that I need to in order to continue building my business.

Tuesday found me writing a release and then booking appointments.

Wednesday found me writing a release and then booking appointments.

Tomorrow will find me . . .

Teaching.

I'm struggling with it. I'm praying about it. I'm sensing the need to do some readjusting for my Fall schedule, which at this point only allows me one morning a week without somewhere to be. Monday morning: bible study (non-negotiable), Tuesday morning: Zane day (no school), Wednesday morning: teaching all morning and 2 afternoon's a month, Thursday morning: Zane day (no school), Friday morning: mine.

I'm nervous. Zane is at the point of beginning to fight and drop the afternoon nap. And although I insist that he stay in his bed for at least an hour and a half, even if he doesn't sleep, the distraction of him calling me over and over is not conducive for work. I need open mornings.

I don't have open mornings.

Correction. I have one open morning.

I'm struggling for the ideal work environment. The environment which marries the writing and Mary Kay. God knows I wrote enough about that dream over the last few months. I won't even link you to those posts. If you've been reading, you know what I'm talking about.

So, I pray. I pray for God's leading.

His ideal.

Thinking Smart

My desire to combine my passions into a work at home structure is becoming a reality! Yesterday, I accepted a Part-Time writing gig with Smarthinking PR, a company run by an Evanston mom who has seen a surge of new business and thus developed the need to bring a writer on board.

I'm that writer!

Um, I'm that WRITER!

Her business is soaring.

My Mary Kay business is soaring.

My desire to write, which has been soaring, has now evolved into an actual position in PR.

I recently received a card from my friend, the always encouraging Trish Harwood (and new Mary Kay Sales Director and car driver) that says,

"SOAR! Life is full of new beginnings -may this year be your most successful Mary Kay Year ever! Happy Anniversary!"

And you know what? For the first time in awhile, I feel like I'm soaring. As I exited my car yesterday for the interview, I felt a familiar tug in my gut. It was the same surge of adrenaline I used to feel when getting out the car to head into O'Connor's Casting for an audition.

I knew at that point that the thrill of writing does indeed mirror the thrill I once had for performing.

I'm loving my Mary Kay business. Check.

I spent yesterday beaming after an incredible meeting with Smarthinking (throughout which my nerves were fluttering between "YES!" and "CRAP! Can I do this?"). Check.

Upon sharing the new gig with George, he asked, "How does this affect your Mary Kay business?"

Wrong question.

The question now is, "How does this affect my other quarter-time job?"

The answer is . . . I'm not ready to come down on a solid answer for that one yet.

Right now, my goal is to book MK appointments, keep current customers happy and satisfied, continue growing my customer base and my team, and CRAM PR . . . I have a few things to learn. Quickly. Like now. Today.

And dear, dear, Melody also knows just how to rev me up for this "new year" in my business life. With a gift card to Starbuck's.

I have such amazing friends.

Friends who encourage me with words.

Friends who encourage me with cards.

Friends who understand my addiction and choose to just give up the fight to sober me up from my caffeine bender by giving me free money with which to buy more coffee.

Thus, enabling me to SOAR even faster!

And she's off . . . well, first she needs an incredible overhaul of her home office.

Does TLC's "Overhaulin'" do home offices?

Dreamland

Zane's sleep habits resemble a bear in hibernation.

Regardless of the temperature, and here in Chicago it's finally hot after skipping Spring and entering Summer right on the tail end of Winter, Zane can be found in fleece pajama's, wrapped up tightly in fleece blankets, with his head nestled in the corner of the crib, up against the slats, womb like.

His blankets of choice are always Melody's superman cuddle (folded into a rectangle and used as a pillow), Michelle's creation (truck side up please) as the "cave", and two blue square blankets received at birth (one as a gift and a duplicate found on Ebay) which flank his head.

It's quite an elaborate setup of fabric.

He NEVER sleeps at the head of the crib, and thus underneath the attic door which may or may not, in his mind, contain owls, preferring the foot of the bed as the place to make camp for the night.

Zane is still in a crib by choice. Sure, he's three, almost 3 and a half, and we've had discussion about moving Harper's bed into his room (and getting her a loft), and redoing his baby cowboy themed room (and to think I chose this theme before the release of Brokeback Mountain which came out (ha) the year he was born . . . ) into a Superfriends Hall of Justice. And yet, there doesn't seem to be any reason why we need to do this.

He doesn't climb out of his crib.

He feels incredibly safe in his crib.

He isn't dry in the morning, warranting the need to get out of his bed in the middle of the night to hit the head.

He hasn't outgrown his crib.

My cub sleeps just fine, cozy and sound in his pen.

He has always been an incredible dozer. In bed by 8:00, and by the looks of this morning, up by, well, hopefully 9:00 am.

There he is, wearing fleece pajama's (which on some days he decides to change into at nap time, as he just loves his pj's so), burrowed under his cave of fleece blankets, zonked. Out. Dreamland.

There are days when we have to wake him. On some days, he'll roll over and look at us and just say, "I don't want to come out yet." He'll then take another 20 minutes to look at books or draw on his magnadoodle while audibly muttering stories to himself.

And then there's Thursday. Upon waking him from his nap so that we could head to the pool, he rolled over, shot a finger in the air and proclaimed, "A butterfly comes from a cocoon and was once a caterpillar!" What a beautiful dream he had apparently just had. The proclamation continued with, "Harper should have Egypt books."

These dreams completely trump the one's he has in the past which have included lions roaming the house (I saved Zane by putting him in the car and driving away) and the presence of those pesky owls in the attic.

Glad to know my slumbering cub is having pleasant dreams.

And while we do plan on taking this summer to reinvent his baby room, it's a little bittersweet. For with pottytraining almost complete, sippy cups gone, stroller's put away, and the remainder of all things "baby" being handed off to friends who are just about to begin their chapter as parents, disassembling the crib and moving to a real bed seems to be the last step in Zane's graduation to big boy.

Could it really be time for my little man to leave the cocoon of babydom?

For, in my mind, he will always be my cuddly bear cub withstanding sweat from an overabundance of fleece, facing lions, and outsmarting owls while he slumbers under the stars on the ceiling.

Some may say, "You can't take it with you", however, I'm quite positive that as my Zane soars upon those newly sprouted wings of his, they will also be carrying a load of four, very loved, fleece blankets.

Pleasant dreams my snuggly big boy.

Hey! Wait up!

This is kind of how I feel.

As if I'm always right behind the winners, yelling, "Wait! I can do that, too!"

As a child, I competed in gymnastics. I never placed in the individual all around until the meets that came after the qualifying meets for the BIG competitions. I'm not at all disappointed in my performance at the meet where I took 3rd all around and 1st on bars, and 3rd on, what was it? Beam? Vault? I don't know . . . I was 10, I think. But, even then, I knew that at this particular meet, my accomplishments were kind of, sort of, second best, as placing in the all around at this point didn't qualify me for the Regional meet or whatever it was called. I needed to clinch a spot for that meet months earlier. And hadn't. I'd missed that opportunity.

I remember my coach telling me that I had a choice. I could either compete in the Regional in order to help the team competition, but couldn't be considered for the all around, OR I could opt out of Regionals altogether in order to re-compete in a secondary meet where I might actually win the all around. This is what I chose. I chose it because I knew I would be compteting against other "second" gymnasts and that out of those "seconds" I could be FIRST. I could win the individual all around.

AND I WANTED TO MEDAL! AND I WANTED TO STAND ON THE PODIUM!

And I got one (and two huge ribbons). And I stood on the podium. But, I didn't advance any farther.

And looking back, I'm ok with this. I like eating junk food and having boobs.

However, I see this as a recurring pattern in my life.

I'm a pretty good actress. And yet, while acting professionally, I always had this lingering feeling in my gut about being just a step behind the frontrunner's in the city, even though I too had the goods to pull out a solid performance. That feeling nagged at me whenever I entered the casting director's office and overshadowed the truth that I had indeed been called in and selected for an audition. A feat in and of itself. Even so, I felt like the "catch up" girl. Second string. And while 2000 and 2001 were HUGE for me in terms of booking jobs, I never felt like I'd truly crashed the Chicago acting scene.

When I began teaching children's music, I realized that there was already this whole children's music scene that I knew nothing about. I sing. I play guitar (barely). Kids at SLC love me. And yet, I'm out of that circle. A circle, which in my mind, encompasses the best of the best in children's artists. The legitimate one's. Not the "wannabe's". Here again, I find myself a step behind in terms of really getting in on the success of being a children's music artist. Ok, not that I really ever wanted to be a kid rock star. My point being that I could have gone this route. I just didn't know the opportunity existed.

Now, I come to find out after alot of research that there is this HUGE network of mother's who blog. Mother's who have sponsors from advertisers. Mother's who receive a PAYCHECK for writing. There is even a Chicago Mom's Blog! There are conferences. There are segments about them on the The Today Show. There are hobnobbing sessions with mother's who blog. There's a book coming out this summer called the Best of the Mommy Blogs, or something along that line. The entire idea of this has me screaming . . .

"HOW DID THEY COME UP WITH THAT?!"

Did I miss yet another wagon????????

Just as I'm figuring out what I would love to do, and am positioned on the cusp of generating a new form of creativity and income, I look up to see that the train has already left the station. I'm left on the platform looking into the windows of the women with their laptops, being paid for their ideas and stories. I knock on the window to get someones attention and write a note in the circle of breath I have left on the glass, "Hi. I blog too."

I don't mean to sound pathetic. Forgive me for the whine. However, I often wondered what it would be like to be at the forefront of something. To be one of those people who gets a killer idea and runs with it. Like the person who invented Post-it notes, or that genius blond woman with sickeningly sweet voice who started Baby Einstein in her basement and then eventually sold the company to Disney, or the inventors of the Pee Pee Tee Pee.

"HOW DID THEY COME UP WITH THAT?!"

(Like the Pee Pee Tee Pee people. Every parent learns very quickly to cover that tiny and yet powerful member when removing a baby's clothing, lest one gets an uninvited shower . . . but the idea of a beautifully designed miniature flannel tent for such a situation? Brilliant. And THIS is what I'm talking about.)

Even now, as I write this, I think, "Good Lord, Jo, you sound desperate!"

And yet, that's what blogging is. It's an online diary, right? A place to spew my frustration. So, why censor the aggravation I feel about trailing behind . . . again? About getting an idea after someone has already had it and run with it? About missing another opportunity to initiate something new?

I don't want to merely crash the mommy blogging party. I don't want to lag behind like the younger sibling. For I am no longer content with being best at being second.

Ah! So maybe this means I'm best at no longer being content with being best at being second.

Oh, good grief.

Pink Ink

I'm going to assume that it's ok to copy this comment made on my site by Jeanie Martin, Executive Senior Sales Director and #1 Mary Sales Director in Illinois, (with whom I held a bit of a grudge based upon her convicting words about the state of my life during a speech she gave at Career Conference), here, into this new post.

That was a really long winded, run on sentence way of sharing that she responded to Untitled Novel.

Many readers don't necessarily go back to read older posts, and thus I wanted to insure that those of you who are all up in my business (in an "I have faithful readers!" kind of way), would get to read the comment she left in response to this particular post. I actually sent her a link to it, so that she could read, firsthand, the impact she had on me on that Saturday in April.

If you recall, (or go back and read the post if you don't), her words infuriated me. Over the next few days following the conference, my repulsion, (I thought her words were trite and useless - sorry Jeanie), turned to confusion. Confusion then led to an emotional paralytic state. The state of numbness then then doubled-back and sent a surge of motivation through me, the likes of which I've not felt since the "A-ha" moments of 1989, when God told me to go out to lunch with George already, 1997, when I left a full-time job to act, 1999 when I felt called to begin a family, and 2005 when I knew it was time to leave teaching acting classes in favor of exclusively private coaching.

Not even coffee can jolt my system as this event did. Well, coffee does still give me a pleasurable jolt, but not a surprise jolt. I'm pretty used to its effects now. Especially since I'm an addict.

I won't rehash that post. Here is her response:

Well, first of all, I've never been on a blog. Second, I've never left a comment. Third, I'd have loved to have you in my English class when I taught high school. Fourth, I want an autographed copy when the book is published. Fifth, I was captivated by your story because you were writing from your heart, what was on your heart and I felt like I was sneaking a peek into what an incredible family you have. Thank you for all you shared..I hope you know that there are days when your words will help me continue when my dreams seem way out there. Love your life and live it out loud! The Jeanie that may have started it all? :)

I completely forgot that she used to be an English teacher. How amazing is that? The little Mary Kay peddlin' writer getting props from the #1 Director and former ENGLISH teacher? Do I really need any more encouragement?

Yes.

Honestly, I really do think there is something to this Writing and Mary Kay dream.

It's right around the corner.

Oh, and I'm buying myself the book pictured above for all my writing ideas.

That, and some Mary Kay After Sun Replenishing Gel to heal the sunburn I got while playing softball yesterday, the likes of which my sister would have been proud. I did impress my softball playin' daughter with my hits, slides, and "the roll".

I tend to get a bit competitive.

Now, if only I could redirect that competitive fire into something for which I have a passion.

Hmmm. What would that be?

What's Your Point?

In my defense (always great to start on the defense) while my blog has seemed silent, my "pencil" hasn't. Over the last 3 weeks, I have stayed true to my challenge of April 12th's blog. I have edited a personal narrative written back in 2002 and have submitted it to a collection of stories. I have contacted a PR firm in Evanston seeking a PT Writer (10 hr. a week from home) and submitted samples. Just last night I completed yet another personal narrative about Harper's birth (minor edits aside) and will be sending it off to a company seeking stories for a collection geared towards new mothers.

And as I wonder if I too have a bit of ADHD in me, I laid awake last night composing a story called Fringe. After being knocked flat with a sinus infection this week, I hadn't the energy to get up and jot down notes, but I do believe if I were to just start typing today, without self-editing, I could retrace my mental steps.

So, only 3 weeks after stating my "dream" (ugh, there goes that word again. I just can't seem to state that word without a bit of a cringe. It's a problem with my perception of the word, rather than the word itself), I have indeed been writing.

George has been running.

Harper joined a softball team (not soccer, but so much better suited for her).

And Zane has successfully taken out 3 vampires.

Look at us!

So, last night, I did a reading of my new story, "Flood", for everyone at dinner. Harper was flattered that I would write about my birth experience with her (I didn't use her name in the piece) and listened very intently. She was impressed.
She came downstairs later that night when she was supposed to be sleeping. As if knowing I would chastise her for being up, she announced, "Wait! I need to read you my story!" as she descended the stairs. Indeed, she had been up in bed WRITING A STORY.

I love mom beczus of her story. I can not bulev she put me in her story. I love her varey much. I can not beleve she is raiting storys. It is like so cool. I like the sect [second] story the best becus it has me in it. the End.

This comes a few days after receiving the following:

Dear Mom, thack you for bing the best mom in the wde wrod! I like having a mom like you. I like your crazy hiae doo. Love, Harper.

So do our actions rub off on others? Does our personal inspiration inspire others?

Seems that way.

If you know me, then you know that I have a great love of popcorn. It is one of the foods that I refuse to share. Don't even ask. I will make you your own bag, but don't touch mine. Popcorn and Buffalo Wings are my selfish foods. Get your own. Last night I was popping a bag of corn when Harper came down to read to me . . . I was so distracted by her sentiment that the microwave popcorn bag burned so badly that even this morning the house still reeks.

My little writer disappeared upstairs after her reading and we thought she was off to bed. Nope. About 20 minutes later we hear crying, "Mommy!" She is crying, whining, really, and is terrified. Apparently, while writing, she had stuck the pencil UP HER NOSE (I know, HELLO!) and the tip had broken off inside her nose. She couldn't get it dislodged. She was freaked out.

George ran for a flashlight.

I tried to keep her calm and told her to try and blow out although being nervous and crying, she kept sucking IN!

Finally, I closed off one nostril with my thumb and yelled "BLOW!"

Out came the sharpened point of her colored pencil drenched in snot.

We all stared down at it and broke into laughter.

Seriously, you can't make this stuff up.

That's my point. I'm writing from my life experience. These are my truthful daily musings. They are real and they are mine. I share them as I would share myself when on stage. On stage, you are fully out there, body and soul, for all to watch. As cheesy as it sounds, the paper is my stage now. I think I'm more honest and real on paper than I ever was on stage. For on stage, I second guessed myself, I edited, I censored, I questioned my choices. Writing is much more freeing for me. I'm certainly not as self conscious on paper as I was on stage (except for when I played Lucy from You're a Good Man Charlie Brown . . . she is the only character I really believed I completely conquered, both times I played her). I may have come across confidently on stage, but there was an element of fake out. There is no faking it here.

I love playing myself now . . . through writing.

I'll try to keep the pencil out of my nose.

6 Weeks!

No, I'm not 6 weeks pregnant. Ha! Made you look!

Get over it. God would have to be really skilled with knots for that to happen.

No, we don't only have 6 weeks left in the school year.

I don't even have the summer schedule figured out yet.

No, 6 weeks isn't the amount of time before we take a really cool trip.

We don't even plan on vacationing until August, unless you count the possibility that I may, MAY, head to Dallas in July along with thousands of other women who drink pink kool-aid and like it.

Inspired by the television show Made, on MTV, (which apparently George watches with the kids while I am away . . .hmmm.) we have decided to give each family member 6 weeks to personally attempt something which we find scary.

Me? I'll be submitting stories to competitions and queries to a few magazines.

Harper? She first said swimming (swimming itself not being the fear, but rather not knowing other children in the class), but then mentioned soccer.

(Cause in my mind, THAT's less intimidating. Yes, that was sarcasm. I'm proud of her for even voicing it, and yet, we'll be seeing how this pans out. Maybe a few games with friends at the park as opposed to doing a league again, where a clump of kids all stampede after the ball at the same time.)

George? He's planning on getting in the running game again.

(A birthday gift of running shoes from his parents, who always seem to get hit up for shoes when they come to town, would be greatly appreciated. Wink.)

And what of Zane's fears?

He shared that he is scared of band fires.

Band fires?

Like when the stage catches on fire during a concert?

Band fires?

Like pyrotechnics and special stage effects?

And just what concert were you planning on attending?

Oh, wait.

Not band fires!

VAMPIRES!

Well, now I feel much better. A little garlic (check), a cross (got 'em a'plenty), and a wooden stake (nothing Daddy can't whittle for you) and you are all set.

Go get 'em Zane.

Untitled Novel

"Tearful Dinner"
"Dreaming Isn't Hokey"
"I Love You So Much It Hurts"
"From Merely Sustaining and Maintaining to Soaring"
"Where Do I Go From Here When God Plants Ideas In My Head"

All worthy titles to describe what I experienced today. All of them swirling around my head at the same time, bumping into each other and becoming intertwined.

Yeah. No kidding. That's a lot to process.
And believe it or not, I'm not the one in the family with ADHD.

What happened today to precipitate this post?

The knowledge and relief and excitement that after several years of feeling as if I've been merely hanging on, making every desperate attempt to maintain daily life, (while keeping up the appearance of wellness, with the occasional complete meltdown witnessed only by a few) it is now time for me to explore some personal dreams that I have.

My least favorite speech at Mary Kay's Career Conference was by the number 1 Sales Director in Illinois, Jeanie Martin. She spoke about the importance of allowing ourselves to dream, acknowledging our dreams, visualizing our dreams, and going after our dreams. She even held a "Dream Book" in her arms while speaking. Come on! Throughout her speech I kept a strong, emotionless face. No notes were taken. I gave her no non-verbal head nods of agreement. I even left before she was done to go to the bathroom. What a waste of my time.

Dribble. Fluff. Sap.

My personal reaction to Jeanie has gnawed away at me every day since hearing her speak last Saturday.

I have been consumed with telling others how disinterested I was with what she had to say.

I recall another time in my life where I was consumed with telling others how disinterested I was with something. Or someone.

About 18 years ago, I told my friends, my family, anyone who would ask, and even people who didn't ask, how very disinterested I was in dating a man named George Atkins. I told them this hourly and daily. I told them this when we weren't even on the subject. I told them this out of the blue. My mom put it best, "For not liking someone, you sure do talk about him alot."

Good thing I ended up not believing my own lie. Right?

Today, I realized that the reason I was so very turned off by Jeanie's speech was because I haven't had any dreams for quite some time.

Well, that's not exactly true. Actually I have had dreams, but they've been a buried underneath the mountains of fear and insecurity. Sure, I've had to make some sacrifices and put some personal desires on hold over the last few years and even more so over the past year for the sake of my family, but even that "sacrifice" has a tiny bit of excuse included in the clever "Supermom" wrapping.

Today, I realized that I do indeed have dreams. Today, I allowed myself to voice them at the dinner table. Dreams that I tearfully told my family I didn't think I could possibly accomplish. Dreams that seem completely unattainable. Dreams that sound ridiculous when actually verbalized out loud. Dreams that I "joke" about, when inside, I really do want them to be. Dreams that recently someone reading my blog for the first time hinted that I should pray about developing.

Let me set the table here: I cooked two new recipes tonight. While I cooked Harper read to Zane. It was the most precious, gentle, serene evening. We sat down to eat. Zane reminded us to pray. Harper asked to open the prayer. They ate EVERYTHING. That's a dream come true. But, that's not the one I'm talking about. Who writes an entire post about the fact that their kids ate dinner and now all is right with her spirit? Anyway . . . Harper told me that the two recipes were keepers. Zane actually ate beans. Nope, that wasn't the dream either.

Wait for it.

It was if God was setting the perfect scene on my behalf to serve as the catalyst to get me to crack (in a good way). And I didn't see it coming. Caught up in the beauty and comfort and trust I felt for my family sitting around that table I suddenly found myself blurting out, "Do you think having dreams is silly?" George said "No". Emphatically.

So, out it came. Quickly, with no thought, no preparation, no control. "I think I have a new dream. If I could do anything, I think I would be a Writer and Mary Kay Consultant."

There, I'd said it.

Then, I started crying. Not the heavy, lead filled tears of these past two year, but more like pure water. Light. Refreshing. Why? Because George said, "Jo, you could totally do that. You've done so many things over the years, most of which have been to help sustain this family, but it's been a while [since my acting days] since you've really done anything [in terms of a profession] to further yourself."

It's not that I don't like teaching children's music, and yet my heart yearns to take guitar lessons in order to play with the worship band, perhaps to even learn how to jot down the songs that come to my head. The one's that end up disappearing because I don't know how to make them reality.

It's not that I don't like coaching, and yet I've lost the "fire" I once had for preparing someone for a role, feeling almost as if I give away a little piece of my creativity every time I do so.

One might think I would want to return to performing, and yet, I haven't the desire to be away from my family for the amount of time performing takes. Writing, however, takes the creative rush I feel inside and releases it, all the while fueling me with the same fulfillment I used to feel from being on stage, only now, I'm home, with those who are my true inspiration.

Writing has become a joy, a habit, a desire, a need, a have to, a want to, a must do, an offering, a gesture, a release, a passion, a relief, a discipline. But, a . . . dream? How could I possibly make that a reality? It just seems too big. Bigger than me. Who am I to think I could actually be a Writer?

Through tears, I asked George if I could really do it. Write, for actual paychecks, and continuing my new found love for my Mary Kay business by moving upward within the company.

Zane answered the question before George did.

"Yes, Mommy" he said looking me right in the eye, "You can do that. Be happy. Don't cry."

I tried to tell him that I wasn't sad - just the opposite, and that I was actually feeling such an enormous amount of happiness due to my ability to admit that I have a dream and because the love I felt around the dinner table at that moment was so very overwhelming, but he's three.

Harper tried to explain that sometimes when grown ups are happy they cry.
Then she shared that she had a dream to become a better reader. And to become a Veterinarian.

Zane shared that he had a dream to play with toys.

George just sat and watched the scene with a contented look that conveyed that right there, at that moment, he was living his dream. He gave me quite the pep talk. He can see it. I love that.

There was a group hug, initiated by Harper, talk of a plan (perhaps phasing out the music classes once Zane "graduates" SLC), a lot of kissing, and a flood of excitement over a new sense of purpose.

I'm sure this isn't the end of this post. Well, it may be the end in a literal sense, as I'm about to stop typing, but not so in terms of my processing and exploring ways to move in the direction of my . . . it's still so hard to say . . . Dream.

My Dream is to work at home. My Dream is to be a Writer and, at this point in time, a Team Leader in Mary Kay. My Dream is to wake in the morning, get everyone off to where ever they need to be and to then get to work on writing projects for which I have been hired to complete. My Dream is to write, hold Mary Kay appointments and train new consultants on my team. My Dream is to be available for my family. To work while they are in school. To be present when they are home. To cook meals with them. To gather around the dinner table and recount the day. Yes, to sacrifice for them, and yet, not at the expense of losing my ability to Dream for myself.

Yeah, I need to tighten that up a bit, but give me time.

And that's it. It's time to move forward.

My family has agreed to help me create a Dream/Vision poster to help encourage me. I'm rereading Bird by Bird by Anne Lamott and investigating what I do next, 'cause I don't have a clue.

So, what would YOU title my new novel?

So Why the Pink Biz?

While nobody has actually come right out and asked me this question, I know that many a family/friend have wondered about this new venture. So let me address a few questions:

Are you still coaching actors?

Are you still teaching parent/child music?

Can you really make money selling Mary Kay?

I first began selling Mary Kay because I needed to bring in an extra couple hundred dollars a month. I was already using the product, and have always been into skin care and cosmetics. So, for those reasons alone, the business was a good match. I knew that I needed to find part time work that would allow me to stay home with my kids, rather than leaving them with a sitter after school on a daily basis. One of my dreams, and this could still happen one day, would be to stay home and write all day - but to date, noone has come forward to say, "Hey! Here's $50. Blog today!"

Due to some shifts in our family life, and namely the conviction that I was spending the best hours of my children's day (outside of school) away from them while I coached other children for auditions, I knew that I needed to make a change. So, to answer question number one:

No, coaching is not my mainstay any longer. In all honesty, I have retained 5 clients. Five out of 20 or so. But, that is all.

To answer question number two: I am still teaching parent/child music classes at one location, and thanks to Mary Kay, will be adding a pink electric guitar sound to the mix.

The interesting part of all of this is how surprised I am by the way Mary Kay has captured my interest and my heart. It is truely a business designed to empower women. Mary Kay empowers us to build personal businesses, but not with a "Good luck with all that" approach. They provide the tools we need to succeed: great products, training, conferences, encouragement, friendships, ideas, recognition. And yet, ultimately, I can either CHOOSE to work or CHOOSE not to work. I don't have to attend trainings. I don't have to educate myself on the products. I don't have to call my customers for follow up or contact potential new customers for appointments.

The choice is mine.

I must realize, however, that if I don't show up for work, nothing gets done.
I have noone else to blame. I must take ownership. I haven't felt this way since leaving the world of auditioning and performing, where I had to put forth my best effort to get that next job. Noone could get the gig for me then. The same is true here. I am personally responsible.

I think all women need to experience an entrepreneurial venture. I hear so many say, "Oh, I could never do that." It's so easy to put oneself down, isn't it?
Harper wrote me a card the other day which read, "Mary Kay rocks and it believes. It's a party, y'all!" Does she see that Mom is feeling motivated in this new venture and has begun to experience a bit of a resurge of energy by tackling something new? Or does she merely see that Mom is now home after school, cooks creative meals, eats dinner with the family and runs a great "Bedtime Cafe" before bed, complete with snacks and books? What is it about Mary Kay that "rocks" in my daugher's opinion? Honestly, I think it's that Mom is HERE!

So, while I began this business with the hopes of just making a few extra hundred a month, and yes, I have made money by just selling the product (question number 3), I have now turned a corner and am committed to embracing this business further. I want to build a team. I want to train others. I want to continue building a business that I run on my schedule, in my home, with my family by my side.

Mary Kay is so much more than just skin care and cosmetics. I now see this after my 6month run. And while it is not rocket science, don't be fooled by the pink. It does take an effort to run this business.

And what of any value doesn't take effort?