DAY #18: A Modified “NaNoWriMo” Challenge (Write 15 Minutes of Garbage Every Day)

I had some good news today.  It turns out that one of my essays, “I Am The Daughter Of Foreigners,” is going to be published on a popular parenting website called Scary Mommy.  This website has over 1.3 million followers.

It’s still hard for me to believe.  This journey to get published on this site feels like an eternity.  In reality, it has only been six months.  I actually have an entire category on this blog devoted to my rejections from this site.  Why don’t we take a brief stroll through what I affectionately term my “Rejection Diaries?”

• To My Lost Litte One:  I’m So Sorry  [Rejection #1]
• Dear Perfect Parent [Rejection #2]
• A PSA About Karma [Rejection #3]
• Finding Coffee In Chaos [Rejection #4]
• Five Reasons I Love Starbucks [Rejection #5]
• To The Lady Who Left Her Son Alone In The Car [Rejection #6]

After that last rejection, I lost the motivation to submit anything anymore.  I tried to motivate myself with pep talks about famous authors who had been rejected multiple times before achieving success.  I told myself that rejections in my past have always led to better things.  But the truth is that rejection SUCKS.  It just does.  So I walked away from submitting articles and focused my attention on this blog.

I think it was inadvertently the best thing I could have done for myself.  When I stopped chasing publication, I started writing with joy.  The irony is that the piece that they accepted was something I wrote for myself.  I had no audience in mind when I wrote it.  Odd, isn’t it?

So, for all of you who are struggling with rejection and wondering when you’re ever going to get a break, please don’t lose heart.  Sometimes, it helps to walk away from your project.  Sometimes, things will come your way when you least expect it.  Just keep on writing and love what you do.

My essay, “I Am The Daughter of Foreigners” will be published on Scary Mommy on Monday, October 19th.  I am especially excited that this particular story will be shared with such a large viewing audience because it honors my parents and other immigrants who left their homelands to pursue better opportunities.  The thought of all of the sacrifices that my parents made to give my sister and me a better life is what drove my response to the racist couple that I encountered in this essay.

Please stop by and check it out.  All “Likes” are appreciated!  And again, please don’t let rejection cause you to lose heart.  Keep on writing.

Post 14: My Moral Dilemma About A Child Left Alone In The Car

To the lady who left her son alone in the car,

I don’t know you. I only know that I was angry when I saw your little boy alone in the blue minivan that was parked next to mine this morning.

At first, I didn’t even realize that he was there. I had just dropped off my four-year old son at summer camp. It’s his third day of camp with a new group of kids and he’s still adjusting. So when I walked back to the parking lot, pushing my daughter in her stroller, all of my thoughts were with my son.

As I carried my daughter from the stroller to the parking lot, I glanced over my shoulder. I saw a pair of large brown eyes peering at me from inside the blue minivan parked next to ours. I didn’t really think about it. This school is populated with helicopter parents. I assumed that there was an adult in the car with him. I buckled my daughter into her car seat, before closing the sliding door and turning around. And that’s when I realized that the little boy was alone in the blue minivan.

Your little boy looks like he’s close to my son’s age. Maybe one year younger. All of the tinted windows in your van were rolled down 2-3 inches. You obviously know that today is going to be a hot summer day. It was after 9 A.M. when I saw your son. I could already feel the sun beating down on me as I stood between our two minivans.

Your boy was also standing up. He poked his nose out the window. Maybe he was hot. I didn’t know how long he had been left alone in the car, so I asked him, “Where are your mommy and daddy?”

He didn’t answer me. I found it ironic that you’ve probably taught your son not to speak with strangers. I tried again. “Are they inside the school?”

He hesitated, and nodded. “My mommy is in there.”

Slightly relieved, but irritated, I asked one more question. “Is she dropping someone off ?”

He said something I couldn’t quite make out, but I was under the impression that you, Fellow Mommy, were there for the same reason I was. To drop off an older child at camp.

I told your little boy that I would be in the car right next to him if he needed something, and he nodded again. Then I slipped into the driver’s seat of my minivan and turned on the air conditioning for my own daughter. Because it was already getting that warm.

I admit it. I was pissed off at you. Who would leave a little kid unattended in the car like that? He wasn’t even buckled into his car seat. He was climbing over the front seats like a jungle gym. My knee-jerk reaction was to call the school’s security office and let them handle it.

Yeah, it’s hard having more than one kid at pick-up and drop-off time. I get it. It would be a lot easier if I could just leave my one-year old daughter in the car by herself for a few minutes while I drop her four-year old brother off at camp. And I admit that I’ve thought about it during milder weather. But I wouldn’t do that. Because even though the likelihood of something bad happening is small, it still exists. And I couldn’t live with myself if something happened to my daughter the one time I took the easy way out.

But that’s my choice. And this morning, you, Fellow Mommy, made yours.

So there I sat, in judgment of what I should do about your choice. And that’s the core of what bothered me. Why did you put me in this position? I didn’t want to judge you, but I did. I thought that you did something incredibly stupid. I thought that you took an unnecessary risk. I get that you’re tired and you want one thing to be easy in your incredibly difficult day. Believe me, I understand. But this isn’t the thing that you should make easier on yourself. Get fast food for lunch today. Turn on the TV a little longer this afternoon. But, for God’s sake, don’t leave your kid in the car unattended.

Fellow Mommy, I was torn. The easy thing for me to do would have been to just call campus security and wash my hands of this whole situation. But I didn’t want to do that to you. Because what if you’re actually a really great mother?  What if you would normally never do this?  What if today you just felt tired and overwhelmed? What if you were so close to the breaking point that you made this incredibly stupid decision? Do you deserve to have your children taken away from you by the CPS for one stupid decision? Because these days, something like that could happen.

After ten minutes of waiting and watching, I didn’t think so. You don’t deserve to lose your children. But you do need a warning. So I picked up the phone and called the front desk of the school. After explaining the situation, I told the front desk assistant that I didn’t want you, Fellow Mommy, to get in trouble with the authorities.  The school should warn you not to do this again.

While I was speaking with the front desk, you, Fellow Mommy, approached your minivan, quickly got in without a glance in my direction and drove away. I didn’t get the chance to talk with you, but I did report what you looked like.

Should I have minded my own business and just left your little boy alone? Some people may think so, but it didn’t feel right to just drive away. Did I do the wrong thing by not calling the police? I hope not. Only time will tell. I hope that when the school contacts you and gives you a warning, you’ll do better next time.

MY COMMENTS:

This piece was rejected by both Scary Mommy (Rejection #7) and The Mid (Rejection #8).  The lady who rejected it at Scary Mommy called it “thought provoking” but said she didn’t have a place for it.  The person at The Mid just rejected it.  I’m not sure where to go from here.

Post 13: Why I’m Trying To Embrace Rejection

Ah, rejection.  It’s one of the few words that can send chills down the spine of an aspiring writer.  The thought of pouring out my heart onto a piece of paper only to have it be rejected by a stranger via form letter paralyzed me with fear.  Who wants to go through that?  I’m better off waiting until I can write perfectly.  I’m better off waiting until I write the perfect manuscript.

But I’m never going to write perfectly and I’m never going to have the perfect manuscript.  No one can.  Everything about writing is purely subjective, which is why it’s so scary to me.  You just have to pour your heart onto the page and trust that if your writing is meant to reach someone, it will.

Rejection comes with the territory of being a writer.  Even some of the most successful writers were initially rejected.  (Those publishers must be kicking themselves now!).  Take a look at how many times the following authors were rejected before their debut (and ultimately wildly successful) novels were accepted for publication:

L.M. Montgomery (Anne of Green Gables):  5 times

J.K. Rowling (Harry Potter series):  12 times

Stephanie Meyers (Twilight):  14 times

Stephen King (Carrie):  30 times

Margaret Mitchell (Gone with the Wind):  38 times

Jack Canfield and Mark Victor Hansen (Chicken Soup for the Soul):  140 times!!!!!!

Being rejected was like a badge of honor.  After giving myself a pep talk, I finally mustered the courage to submit something at the beginning of May.  But alas, one week later, it was rejected.  So I submitted something else.  And once again, after one week, it was rejected.  I did this four more times.  All of my submissions were rejected.

So from May 4, 2015 to June 25, 2015, I’ve been rejected six times.  Five times by Scary Mommy and one time by Blunt Moms.  I’m not even close to the number of rejections experienced by some of the authors above, but I have to admit that it’s still disheartening.

After that first rejection back in May, I just wanted to crawl into a cave and not even tell anyone that I had even tried.  I have a healthy fear of failure.  I pictured everyone smirking at me and wondering who I thought I was to even try writing.  I’m not a trained writer.  I don’t have an MFA degree.  I’m an engineer who happens to love writing.  I have a lot of nerve to think that I could do this for a living.

And then I thought about it.  In my life, rejections in the corporate world have always led to something better.  Two examples immediately popped into my mind.  I remember being crushed when I didn’t get a job at an assembly plant in 1999, only to get a better job at an assembly plant in 2002.  I remember being crushed when I didn’t get the job I wanted in Volume Planning in 2001 only to get my dream job in Product Planning in 2004.   With that in mind, I now realize that I should actually be grateful for rejection.  It’s a blessing in disguise.  Rejection helps me to stop wasting time on ill-suited endeavors and to focus on pursuing better options.

So now I’ve come around to this bizarre notion that I should actually embrace rejection.  I’ll keep on writing and submitting articles.  If I get rejected, oh well!  At least I can say that I tried.  I might even learn something that will improve my writing.  It’s a lesson that I want to teach my children, but how will they learn it if I give up so quickly?  I’d be setting a pretty lousy example if I just walk away from my dreams after a few rejections.

So, as part of my journey to become a writer, I will embrace my rejections by sharing them on my blog as part of “The Rejection Diaries.”  Someday, when I finally break through the writing barrier to entry, this blog will be a good story for my children.  The more rejections, the better the story.  It will teach them to never give up.  Keep on trying.

Post 11: Nearly Dying Taught Me To Never Give Up

I just read a beautiful story on Scary Mommy about an amazing mother who taught her daughter the value of “grit and tenacity.”

http://www.themid.com/family/what-my-mother-taught-me-about-being-poor-but-getting-things-done?u=RZ0SBnvK3Y

This woman did what it took to show up at her interview and land the job she wanted.  It reminded me of the time I went in for a job interview the day after I had been in a rollover accident.

On July 31, 2003, I was driving to work on the highway.  I remember what a beautiful morning it was.  Driving on the highway during inclement weather stresses me out, but on that day, everything was perfectly sunny and clear.  There was no rain or fog to slow traffic down, but there was construction.  Morning rush hour traffic ebbed and flowed as four lanes merged into three.

At one point, I came to a complete stop in the left lane.  I glanced up in the rear view mirror and saw a Ford Expedition driving at full speed towards me.  My whole body tensed when I saw the “Oh, shit” expression of the driver talking on his cell phone.  I instinctively grabbed the wheel right before he slammed into me driving over eighty miles an hour.

My Jeep Liberty couldn’t take the impact.  It skidded diagonally across the pavement, slammed into the embankment on my left and started to roll over.  I still don’t know how many times.  Later, the mechanic would tell me that it was definitely more than one time.

What people say about time slowing down when you think you’re about to die is true.  Time slowed down for me.  The Jeep rolled over for what seemed like an eternity.  In reality, it was probably just a few seconds.  Hundreds of images cluttered my mind, before one thought cut through the noise.  I remember thinking about the murder of a young girl I had heard about in the news that morning.  I remember thinking about how afraid she must have been once she knew she was going to die.  I remember thinking how awful it must have been for her to spend the last few seconds of her life filled with such fear.  As the sound of metal crunching on the pavement rang in my ears, the same fear consumed me.  One clear thought surfaced in my mind:  “This is a horrible way to die.”  And then, I’m not sure who or what it was, I heard a response:  “It’s not your time.”

At that moment, the Jeep stopped rolling and landed on its side.  After a few stunned moments, I realized that the engine was still running.  I’m not sure how I did this, but I automatically rolled down the window and turned off the radio and headlights before shutting off the engine.  Then I unbuckled my seat belt and stood up.  I poked my head out of the driver side window and looked around.  Several people had surrounded my vehicle.  The first man to speak to me looked relieved.  He told me to just stay in the car until the paramedics arrived.  I just nodded and looked around.  The owner of the Ford Expedition was close by.  He looked like a kid.  I couldn’t muster much anger because he looked like he was in shock too.  Uninjured, but just as shocked as I was.  He just stared at me with his mouth agape.

The police and ambulance arrived fairly quickly.  When they started talking about the jaws of life, I grew impatient.  I felt fine, so I just decided to crawl out the back window of the Jeep.  It had been shattered in the collision.  I had a blanket in the car that I just put over the broken glass before climbing out the back.  Other than feeling shaken, I thought I was well enough to head to work, but the paramedics insisted on taking me to the ER.  When I asked the ER doctor if I could just go back to work, she looked at me sternly and told me to go home for the week.

When I woke up the next morning, I was in a lot of pain.  The effects of the accident wreaked havoc on my back.  I didn’t know what to do, because it was the day of my interview for a coveted position in Marketing.  I had spent the past year networking for a chance at this job.  The interview alone had been rescheduled three times.  How could I reschedule it again?  There was no way I was going to miss it.  The ER doctor had given me strong pain medication, but I didn’t want to be an incoherent mess in front of the hiring director, so I just took some basic Tylenol before going to the interview.  Needless to say, the director who interviewed me thought I was insane for not rescheduling, but she hired me.

I needed this reminder today.  I’ve been feeling pretty disheartened since I haven’t heard anything from Scary Mommy.  I assume that my fifth submission was rejected.  But I feel better after remembering the lesson I learned from over a decade ago.  It’s the same lesson I want my children to understand.  Never give up.  If it matters, don’t let the obstacle win.  Fight for it.  For the sake of my children, if not my own, I’ll keep on fighting.

Five Ways Karma Changed Me Since Becoming A Mom

Karma has it in for me.  You may not believe me, but it’s true. Since becoming a mother, I’m doing all sorts of things that I swore I would never do. Here are just a few examples of how Karma smacked me back to humble reality:

I never thought I could forget my purchases at the store.    

Last week, I officially lost my mind. I arrived at this conclusion when I nearly pulled out of the grocery store parking lot without my groceries. The teenager behind the customer service counter looked at me with pity when I rushed back inside the store and explained what happened. “Well, it could be worse,” the girl tried to console me, as she handed me my groceries. “At least you didn’t forget your baby in the store.”

Is this my future? Forgetting my children in public places? As I walked out of the store with my groceries in hand, I double-checked the stroller to make sure my daughter was still in there. Before having children, I never would have been this forgetful. In fact, there was a time when I probably mocked people for being this forgetful.

Naturally, I’ve forgotten who I mocked. But Karma doesn’t forget. And she holds a grudge. Consider yourselves warned.

I never thought I’d use a drive-thru window.

I admit it. Once upon a time, I didn’t understand why people used drive-thru windows. If you’re a healthy person, how hard is it to get out of your car, walk from the parking lot to the counter, and place an order in person? The drive-thru window at a local Starbucks was a special source of irritation to me. I would stand at the counter and watch several drive-thru customers get their coffee before I did. Why were most of the baristas catering to the drive-thru customers? Why was Starbucks rewarding sloth?

Obviously, things have changed. Since I tend to leave things behind when I step out of the car, it’s in my children’s best interest that I use drive-thru windows whenever possible. Karma must laugh her ass off at me since my daily routine includes hitting the same Starbucks drive-thru that I used to complain about. At least I haven’t driven off without my coffee.

I never thought I would drive a minivan. 

Let’s face it. There’s nothing sexy about a minivan. A well-endowed topless woman could drive around town in a minivan without attracting attention. Why? Because a minivan is a womb on wheels. No single guy in his right mind wants a piece of that action. In my “Single Girl looking for Mr. Right” days, there was no way in hell I was going to contaminate myself with this male repellent.

Fast forward fifteen years later to the arrival of child number one. And the bulky car seat. And the stroller.  And all that other baby stuff that new mothers feel compelled to lug around in case of an emergency. I remember driving my minivan for the first time. Disturbing thoughts filtered through my mind. Wow, this thing has a smooth ride. Hey, look! The seats fold flat! Look at all that storage! I could fit a house in here! My late thirty-something, sleep-deprived mom brain fell in love with the minivan and never looked back.  Yep. Cosmic retribution at its finest.

I never thought that I’d burn water in the kitchen.

Back in college, a friend tried to make pasta and ended up burning the water. Water. The girl burned water. Who does that? How is that even possible? As we rushed around her apartment, opening windows to let out the smoke and trying to figure out how to turn off the fire alarm, I wondered how she could have been so careless. How hard is it to pay attention to whatever you’re doing in the kitchen? This is why kitchen accidents happen. Because people don’t pay attention.

Karma smacked me on this one late last year. It was a rare day. The floor wasn’t crunchy and I looked human, so I decided to live dangerously and invite a visitor over to the house. Instead of offering my guest a refreshing cup of air, I put the kettle on for tea. It was all very Downton Abbey-ish. I did NOT set the timer because I didn’t want to look like a moron in front of company. I don’t need a timer, I thought. I’ll hear the charming whistle of the tea kettle when the water is done boiling. How delightful.

Fifty minutes, two tantrums, two dirty diapers and two dirty pull-ups later, I thought I smelled smoke. The fire alarm started beeping as I ran into the kitchen. There was smoke. Amid the chaos of my squawking children, I had forgotten about tea time. The kettle was still sitting on the red hot burner. All of the water had evaporated. The bottom of the kettle had melted and fused to the burner. I turned off the stove top and tried to unsuccessfully pry the kettle from the burner. So much for tea time.

I never thought I could love so many people so much.

This is admittedly sappy, so bear with me. I didn’t realize how much I could love someone until I met my husband. That love grew to amazing proportions when I had my son. But when I was expecting my daughter, I was actually worried. I didn’t think I could love another child as much as I loved my son. Maybe it was the raging hormones, but I had this bizarre notion that love was like a pie. A fixed pie with a limited number of slices. No more slices for you, second child. The pie is baked, the crust is done and I’m all out of love.

Or maybe I was just thinking about pie. I’m not sure. Well, whatever was floating through my mommy brain changed the first time I held my daughter. As I fell head over heels in love with my baby girl, Karma laughed at me. Silly, sleep-deprived mommy. Such a ridiculous thing to worry about. The first time I saw the two of my children together in the same room, my heart swelled with the realization that love grows. All thoughts of limited pie supply vanished. Well, not all thoughts.

Now that I want some pie, I’ll stop here.  This concludes my PSA about Karma.  She still laughs at me, but I’m okay with it.  I just do a headcount and a pie check before we leave the parking lot at the grocery store.

MY COMMENTS:  

Well, I’m not too surprised about this one.  Seven days have passed since I submitted this (my third) article to Scary Mommy and  “all is quiet on the Western Front.”   I’m assuming that since their turnaround time is 7 days and I haven’t heard back from them yet, this article was rejected.

After what happened at the grocery store a few weeks ago, I finally felt compelled to write about some of the major ways having children has changed me.  I’m still amazed that I could have done what I describe in beginning of this essay.  Truthfully, these days, I should be amazed that I still remember what happened.  If time travel were possible, I suspect that “Before Children” Taara would slap “After Children” Taara if she could see some of the stuff I do today.

As always, any constructive feedback is welcome.  Thank you for taking the time to read this!