This shizz right here was syndicated on BlogHer

Many moons ago when my baby was not a 3 year old pre-school attendee who has successfully stopped saying “fuck” & now says “fudge”, but a tiny 5 month old I decided I should start a blog. I remembered one day while sitting on my sinking couch that I once had a blog that I enjoyed writing on. And so I decided I should be a mommy blogger.

I spent about a week coming up with a name for my blog because I wanted it to be really great. Thus “Before The Baby Wakes” was born. It was all “trying to get it all done….dun, dun, dun. BEFORE THE BABY WAKES“. Then the more I thought about I realized that I spent a lot of time yelling at my husband asking him to turn down the music dun, dun, dun BEFORE THE BABY WAKES.

For the first year I would say that my blog sucked. It was my daily mothering drivel. I was telling you rather then showing you about my day as a mother. It was all kinds of “And then Phoenix crawled, and then my husband said, and I was all” drivel. Even I was bored with it by the time I hit publish.

Then I started reading more blogs & seeing that most of the successful bloggers I liked had serious series & themes. They had recipes & tutorials {which I embarrassingly pronounce too-da-roll. Yeah. I know. Shove it.}. They reviewed books & toys. It was like the June Cleaver of Mom Blogs. And that’s what I wanted to be. But I struggled with it because it just wasn’t me.

And then I participated in my first Ultimate Blog Party & while quickly writing up my welcome post I think I stumbled on my voice. This was confirmed when comments poured in about how funny I seemed. I called my husband and told him “I think I’m funny. I think I should do funny”.

Then after that I found fashion blogs & outfit post & I was hooked & I thought I could do that & so I thought I could make myself a little bit more of a fashion blogger. But as much as I would be homeless for a lot of clothes I still wipe butt {not plural because that would mean I wipe my husbands & I’m not submissive like that} for a living so a lot of days no matter how glamorous I might think I am, I don’t get out of yoga pants & Old Navy Tee’s.

And then I went to BlogHer & I had so many people asking me what I blogged about & it went something like “Well I guess I’m a Mom Blogger, but I don’t always talk about mom stuff. I also do fashion when I get dressed, & then I do funny maybe. But I also have started writing, like real writing, & then sometimes its just random stories from when I was a long dress wearing Bible school student.”

I spend days upon days trying to come up with stuff that makes me seem as cool as MODG, as fashionable as Maegan, as crafty as Natasha, as funny as Jenni, & as Mom blog authority-ish as Jill, but I never seem to really get there. So I decided to take a break & here I am almost a month into my break & no closer to the “aha!” moment of inspiration that I thought I would be.

I try to remember that blog success can take years, I try to remember that success looks different to everyone. I try to remember that 15 comments are better then none. I try to remember that if you build it they will come, but other times I don’t always remember that and I find myself feeling emotionally & creatively depleted.

Right now. Today. I feel that I need to do something drastic. I even contemplated a name change, but that would mean the 100 plus business cards I still have would be a waste, I’d have to change my email address & Facebook page & even if the success doesn’t look the way I want it to I risk having to start over by doing that. Plus I don’t even know what I would change the name too.{Thoughts on changing my blog name?}

My drastic change needs to be one or both of these things. 1. I remember why I started blogging & writing in the first place. I remember to just write what I want when I want how I want & I just go hard & if no one comes (hehehehehe) then so be it or 2. I just continue doing what I’m doing  I was sitting here writing this jumbled up statement when I clicked over to Pinterest & found the picture* below.

And I realized that’s exactly what I need to do. I’m going to get lost in my writing, I’m going to get lost in being a mother {which shouldn’t be too hard}, I’m going to get lost at being a blogger & what comes out is what comes out. But I think if I do that I’ll end up right where I should be. 

*There was no source linked to this picture so I linked it to this post. If this belongs to you please let me know so I can link it back to you. Not trying to be sued over no copy-right infringe shit. 

A few weeks ago I wrote about a little bit of hateration that I was getting over my blog & a reader left me a link to this post by Kelly Rae Roberts. If you have ever taken part of any kind of “improve your blog” challenge or spent hours jumping from one Pro-Blogger post to the next you’ll see a recurring theme.

This question/task always leave me stumped, un-inspired & dumbfounded. Can the answer of why I blog simply be “Because I want to” or “I was bored & it seemed like a fun idea”.

When I read the post from Kelly Rae it immediately resonated with me. Especially this part right here.

“i’ve been thinking about my own vulnerabilities. about how learning to embrace all the bits and pieces of it has really felt empowering to me which has been such an unexpected lesson. embracing my vulnerability, to me, means expressing my life outwardly and honestly.”

In the last year I have taken a lot of time trying to embrace all the parts that make me a whole me & after reading her post I came to realize that, that was exactly why I blogged.

You know how you make a pros & cons list when you are trying to decide to eat a brownie {What you don’t do it for that reason?} well that’s kind of what my blog is for me. It’s a way to work out on paper what I am, how I am, how I got here, where I’m going, & what I want to say when I get there.

I’m writing my own autobiography.

“Wait Alex, you are 23, why are you saying this is a autobiography?”

Because I want the Alex I will be to know the Alex that was.

And I even want it to be a scrapbook for Phoenix & all my other children & my grandchildren. When Phoenix is angry with at 16 & thinks I plot his demise daily I want him to have something tangible that he can look at & say “Oh, ok, yes. I get it now”.

It’s also a little bit like this Google Chrome video Kelly also posted. I watched it, I cried & I thought of doing the same. But then I stopped myself & remembered that, that is what this blog is. What it’s for. A place to watch not only Phoenix’s life unfold, but my life as well.

Why do you write?

Thursday is the last day to vote for me here. Can you please take a minute & vote if you haven’t? It’s a bit wonky the voting system. Just hit “vote” next to my blog name & an email client will come up hit send. If you don’t use your computers default email client then just send the email through your own email host (make sure to add my blog name to subject). Thank you.

Abortion

Broken dreams.

Hurt.

Guilt.

Tears.

Abortion

Questions.

Longings.

Dim lights.

Abortion

Paralyzed in the molasses of my guilt.

The tar of my hurt.

The chains of my regrets.

Abortion

Silence.

Shame.

Wailing.

Regret.

Abortion

Guilt.

Shame.

Regret.

Abortion

Guilt.

Shame.

Ugly.

Hate.

The machine.

Abortion

The instructions.

The suction.

Anger.

Darkness

Sadness.

Abortion

How come?

What if?

Is this right?

Stop. Wait.

Abortion

Weakness.

Gone.

Death.

Ruby.

Abortion

Healing.

Peace.

Laughter.

Birth

Smiles.

Bravery.

Love.

Tenderness.

Birth

Healing.

Healing.

Healing.

Confidence.

Change.

Love.

Birth

The music. The noise.

The love.

The beginning.

New.

Fresh.

Begin again.

Birth

Start over.

The blessings.

The chances.

The symphony.

Angels.

Not a replacement, but a gift.

Journey.

Birth

Family.

Hope.

Relationship.

Giggles.

Tickles.

Tiny toes.

Birth

Tiny fingers.

Forgiveness.

Blood.

The blood of life.

Birth

Healing….

Oh the healing…

Phoenix.

Us.

Beauty.

This short piece of non-fiction is inspired by the tremendousness guilt, shame, regret & ugliness that was my abortion & the beauty that I have been able to find by starting over again & finding the strength to forgive myself

This week’s assignment is to write a short piece, either fiction or non-fiction, about something ugly – and find the beauty in it.

I’ve always considered myself a “writer” (You don’t need to chuckle. Because clearly I used quotations marks. And we all know that means I’m making fun of myself. Right? Right)

And when it comes to writing I tend to go one of two ways. Either I try to be really, really funny or I’m like a moody angsty teenager.

And one of the ways I’m like a teenager is I change with the wind. At any given moment just like my truths can change daily, so do the things that inspire me.

And it’s not always writing for my blog.

Sometimes fights with my husband will inspire me to want to work on short stories in which the main character is a seemingly normal girl who just one day snaps & starts knocking off men

Seeing strikingly beautiful images will inspire me to want to write a bunch of stream of consciousness post.

And an emotional day of my own doing will have my wanting to write poems. And I’m anything but a poet.

But most days.

This. Inspires me to write.

Today it was this.

A drawing Phoenix made last night. And when I asked him what it was his 2 year-old self answered “It’s love”

And I saw through my sons eyes that this orange tangled & scribbled mess was love to him. What did that mean?

I’m fighting with my husband now. If you know us. This won’t entirely come as a surprise. We bicker a lot. And sometimes what you mean to make just a discussion about cleaning up after oneself turns into a 2 day long stand-off. The 600 million dollar question. Who’s going to speak first?

But give us a break because we have only been married 2 years (on the 10th) together for 4 (as of the 28th. Which he forgot.) and it has been an uphill battle from almost the beginning (which will get into more later when I finally finish the This Is Us series).

I see this drawing from wise-beyond-his-years son & I think. That’s what love is. Or at least ours.

This tangled web of scribbles.  Even when I sit down & think “Can I really continue doing this?” & I’m not going to lie, those moments come still. I realize. I’m in this tangled web & I wouldn’t even begin to know how to get out. All that I am is connected to the two of them. To us.

It’s a maze of emotion, laughter, smiles, tears, frowns, hugs, jokes, and venom and it won’t be that easy to just walk away from.

It’s not a love that is perfect by any stretch of the word.

But it’s us. And him. And that little boy who inspire me to write. Inspires me to keep writing a story that despite by best efforts just won’t be finished.

I write because I want to look back and be able to say “Wow. We made it through that?”

My future inspires me to write.

Or I could be totally wrong and this is really his version of love of what he knows. A fucked up angry scribble? Which doesn’t say much about my husband & I.

Which in that case it will be future therapy bills that will inspire me to write, in hopes I land a book deal to pay for the therapy that is.

Linked up for Mama Kat’s Writers Workshop: What inspires you to write?

In exactly one month from today I will be 23 years old.

If I could tell my 13 year old self something what would it be? Here is a letter to her.

Dear Alex, Allie,Alexandria,Allie-Pat

Clearly by the start of this letter you are having an identity crisis and can’t decided what you want to be called. Just go with Alex ok? As long as someones not calling you “Hey Bitch” you’ll be good.

So if I remember correctly at 13 you are in puppy love with a guy we will call Orange. You think this person is the one. For your birthday this year he will write you a letter. One you will have memorized completely a day after you get it. A letter that you will fold up and keep in a little tin lunch box until you are 15 and think you are in love with the Green Giant at which point you will burn it. And then spend the next year wondering if you destroyed something your future children may have wanted to see.

You didn’t. Trust me.

Look. Plain and simple. He is not the one for you. Be prepared though in a few short months he will break your heart and you’ll spend the next 2 years getting over him. You will think you will never be able to breathe again. But trust me. You will. But its after this break-up that you will buy the most stellar pair of Esprit sling back pumps (yes. You have sling back pumps at 13. You are setting yourself up to date & marry a man 13 years your senior). Pumps you will still have in your closet 10 years later. You will go to and fro searching for a blacksmith to tighten the band on the shoe. But you will never find such a blacksmith and you will never find a sling back you love as much…you will hold on to these shoes forever.

Remember. You will be able to breathe. As much as you can. Try not to make a fool of yourself.

And those gigantic things you call boobs (or as that ass in youth group dubbed them “Twiana & Wanda”) will continue to grow beyond what the eye can see. When you are approved for your breast examine in 2 years, go much smaller then the doctor is telling you. Why? Because in 5 years you will nurse a baby and they will have almost returned to their original size and when you tell the doctor you are a DD she believes you instead of measuring you and finding out you are probably closer to Z then DD. And when she resizes you she is really only making you a small DD. You will spend the rest of your days begging your husband to get off of his big boob obsession and let you reduce them. So to save yourself that fight just size those puppies down to a small, small C.

You are going to go to Bible School. I know. You never wanted to. But you will. Bible School will break you. You will often feel that you can’t breathe. You will of course be able to breathe. But remember 99% of what you are going through is your fault. But you will be able to breathe and although you won’t see it at the time Bible School will change you and despite what people might think it will change you for the better ok? Keep your head up. And don’t have Mom sew all your side slits up. You will only be there for 8 months and when you get out you’re going to want to show some leg.

From 2003 until 2005 you will feel like you are on a merry go round with creepy music. It will stop. Just ride it ok.

At 17 you will again think you are madly and deeply and crazily in love. You are not. He will also break your heart and you will swear this time that you really, really, really can’t breathe. I’ll admit. That time was scary. But like I said before. You do breathe again. When you go to his house to confront him (against all better judgement) he will tell you that you will meet someone else much better. Believe him. Did you hear me? Don’t scream back “Noooooo I woooooon’t”. He is right. Thank him for letting you go and go home and prepare for the one who will always let you breathe. He’s coming. I promise.

For the next 2 years you’re going to have fun. You’re going to spend lots of money (enjoy it because soon you won’t be able to), buy a car, go out with boys, get wasted like you wouldn’t believe. And be skinny. Embrace it babe. It was a good ride.

See I told you, you would breathe again.

And out of the blue on the eve of your 19th birthday….you’ll find him.

You will find someone that 4 years into the future on 9/19/2010 while you write a letter to yourself, will come up to you, kiss your neck and still make you shiver. He will turn around every so often while he works to tell you he loves you. He will tell you often how beautiful you are. Almost to the point where you beg him to stop. But believe him because he really does mean it.

Be warned though. It’s going to be hard. Your little self is going to ride more roller coasters then any 19 year old should have to. You will often feel like you can’t breathe. Sometimes because of him, sometimes because of you. Sometimes because of life. But you are always breathing. And he will always, always be the one that will keep you breathing.

On June 22, 2007 you will make a mistake. There will always be parts of you that can’t breathe when you think about this. I am sorry. And there isn’t any more that I can tell you now. Except, she is ok…

And just a little over a year after that on 8/1/2008 you will experience what real breathing is. You will breathe forever.

Forever you will breathe clean, pure, and delicious air. And his name will be Phoenix. He truly will be your phoenix. And like Christopher Robin tells Pooh you will find in that moment “You’re braver than you believe, and stronger than you seem…”

I will stop here and not spoil it all for you.

Believe me there will be sleepless nights. Both with a baby hanging off your still in need of a reduction breast and without.

I suspect that many more times than I mentioned there will be moments you won’t be able to breathe. But like I said before you will be.

You are breathing now….You are breathing now.

Love-

You

Edit: If you could write a letter to your 13 year old self what would you say?

Edit: Linked up at Things I can’t say: Pour my heart out