Dear Roger: A Cure For Insomnia?

For the first time in months, I slept good last night. I really shouldn't have, I have about a million things to worry about, including covering all the bills at the first of the month, the ex not helping out and hinting that he might be heading this direction, my 3rd novel is getting bunged up in its opening week out because the e-version's page is not totally ready so no one can preview it and that is a huge pain in the ass, and well, I have had chest pains off and on over the past couple of weeks again, but after a busy as hell day of building my authors page on Amazon and getting things set up for all the international markets and doing all kinds of other work related stuff I needed to do, I took some time and I wrote  a letter to someone very important to me and I put to rest some business that I needed to put to rest, and I think that is why I slept better.
I tend to not be a good follower or joiner of anything. I have always been an outlier and skeptical of the whole herd mentality that many seem content to fall into when it comes to things. I have tried over the years to be a part of things, and I have failed miserably when my need to ask,"Why?" or "Says who?"  comes into play as well as my gut instinct.
When I started off in the military, that was a huge problem and if I hadn't destroyed my knee at Ft. Sill, I probably would have ended up in the stockade for insubordination more than I would have actually served because keeping my opinion to myself has never been my strong point when I have encountered injustice.
As a cop, it caused me problems as well because I have to respect the people giving me commands, and when the person who is supposedly commanding me, makes fun of me for using,"Big words" or "Talking like a lawyer", well then I'm afraid the contempt is going to show in my expression pretty damn fast.
As I have gotten older and the years have taken a toll on me, I've gone less from worrying about belonging to anything to more about protecting those I care about or who need it, and my kids are my primary focus and then there are a few who figure in pretty close right there after my kids. I am pretty diligent about watching out for them and I don't have an agenda and I don't want or expect anything other than people to be safe and happy, because like I have said in the past, time is short and I often feel like a clock that is winding down. When you are in that situation, things have no meaning to you, but making sure you are right with the people you care about and Karma, has a whole lot of meaning.
I am working hard to make sure my kids know about doing the right things and about being skeptical of people with a bill of goods to sell. I used to take most people at face value and give them a chance to lie to me, but now I am more likely to go in expecting to be lied to and hope that the person will prove themselves to be genuine and honest with the same kinds of values that I have and that I have tried to work hard to instill in my children. Dont know if its just a Southern thing, a cop thing, or what it is, but I have gone back to going with my own gut instinct on things and when I do get backed on my feelings by someone I hold in regard, its good to know there are other people out there who have a lick of sense and a moral code similar to mine because it gives me hope that maybe my kids will have friends when they grow up and venture out and they wont be held to be such weirdos.
All I know is I slept a lot better last night and a load is off my mind.

A Modern Calamity: Dear Roger: The Things You Do For Love

A Modern Calamity: Dear Roger: The Things You Do For Love: Today was an amazing day. My teenage son spent most of his day helping me put together the book trailer for my book,"Face In The Rear V...

Dear Roger: The Things You Do For Love

Today was an amazing day. My teenage son spent most of his day helping me put together the book trailer for my book,"Face In The Rear View Mirror." This was not something he did lightly, hes a teenager who was planning on spending the morning playing football with his buddies and then the afternoon with his guitar or napping, but the rain started in and that killed his plans and he watched me struggle along with Windows Movie maker, cursing and squinting through my inadequate glasses, getting more and more frustrated til finally with his trademark," Nick Burns-Your Companies Computer Guy" snarl he said,"MOVE!" and he took over.
He got all the pictures in place, found a picture to fill a gap we knew we couldn't fill otherwise and he then captioned and set up all the animations and fancy stuff that was making me crazy because half of it I cannot see properly and the other half I get frustrated with trying to get match what I have in my mind. He got all the pictures and text in place and it was beautiful, exactly what I wanted and then we hit our first major argument of the day; the music.
He knew what I listened to when I wrote that story, he was sitting next to me on the couch most of the time as I sat there with my ear buds in,alternately either smiling at memories or crying over them and he listened to my stories and some of the music with me, and he knew the one song that inspired me along with the one voice that was in my ears most of the time. When I got up to go referee a fight between my daughter and Stubby over who was farting in the bedroom the worst, he loaded the song and when I came back he had it perfectly synced up and playing along with the pictures.
My reaction was visceral and he didn't know how to handle a mom in tears over a simple song, but he stopped it and asked me why I wouldn't allow him to leave it. I explained that it was most likely tangled up in legal issues that would take years to sort out,and that I was not going to step into the middle of with my paltry little video. I wanted him to record HIS music and he finally agreed after much negotiation and explaining that no matter how special a song may be, sometimes a song from someone close to you is even more special.
He sat and tuned and re-tuned his guitar for at least an hour, driving me up the wall, and he strummed and picked and wool-gathered like musicians do, and he played the one song he had written over a week ago and decided he didn't like it for the video, so he came up with something new.
We recorded it at my kitchen table when we caught a lull in the barking and scratching of the dog, the bickering of the other kids and the noise of the road outside. You can hear a bit of the creak of our chairs and some of the tap of his toes on the tile, but I think it adds to the simple charm of the melody.
He did that for me. He gave up his whole day, working on my video and helping me out when I know he wanted to be off hanging out with his friends, and he wrote a song for me. We may battle like most parents and teens do, but today I feel loved more than a little.

A Modern Calamity: Dear Roger: Comfort Zone

A Modern Calamity: Dear Roger: Comfort Zone: When I am working on something, such as my writing, I can be very single minded and focused. I often forget to eat sometimes even to drink...

Dear Roger: Comfort Zone

When I am working on something, such as my writing, I can be very single minded and focused. I often forget to eat sometimes even to drink or even get up and move around. If im on a writing jag, I will focus on what I am writing about to the exclusion of almost everything else, except my kids, they tend to be very persistent about getting my attention away from anything. 

This single-mindedness sometimes bites me in the ass and I forget to do other things, oh say like, refill my prescriptions for my seizure medications or eat, or even get enough sleep. I have raging insomnia and often get by on less than 4 hours of sleep a night, sitting up working on my writing or reading, lurking in unseemly areas of the interwebz or just woolgathering in the wee hours when I wish I had someone to talk to other than myself. I have been working on trying to become more social and develop better ways of communicating and actually talking about my books in ways other than just blushing and stammering or lapsing into full on stuttering, but its been difficult though today was a little better.

My boss, a woman a little older than me, hit me up for copies of my books the other day, and while I am fairly okay with sending them off to people who are hundreds of miles away from me and who I don’t really have to deal with on a regular basis, I was a bit freaked out about my BOSS actually reading my stuff, but I handed them over and promptly considered moving.

Today, she stopped me as I was out wandering about doing my regular stuff and she wanted to TALK ABOUT MY BOOK,”DRIFTS”. There were other people around and I thought that might give me a way of escape, but, OH NOO! She was adamant! She LOVED IT. She wanted to know about my inspirations and where I got the ideas and then she told me how she related to the character and that it really struck a nerve in her and she imagines that the reason its popular is because it strikes that same nerve in a lot of people.

I had really been wondering. I really hadn’t understood why it was doing so well, but it keeps selling and people keep asking me for copies of it and its the one people ask me about the most. I also get asked if there will be a sequel, and the answer is; I don’t know. I have to get the characters to talk to me again and right now they are kinda quiet. I hope they talk to me again because while it was a pretty dark story when it was first written, it was fun to write. Just like the next story im about to publish. It was a lot of fun to write and it had different inspirations. 

I have been pretty busy getting stuff ready to go and haven’t written too much lately other than my blogs but I have the start of a very dark and twisted tale on my desktop, and while its got a lot of research and observation behind it, its a hard tale to write on ones psyche because its about a side of “Love” and obsession that most are very lucky to escape, and I cant delve to deeply into working on it without my PTSD pinging off the charts, and the research has had me up nights pacing the floor. I’ve gotten one chapter done and 5 outlined, and all the characters developed, even done a quick and dirty outline of it one night on FB with some friends to give them an idea of where I was heading with the tale and they are well aware of how disturbing it is, and what is even worse, is most of  the research has been conducted by observing real people in the small fandom I am a part of. Ill leave that for another day, because I prefer to write the happier stuff, but I am at the mercy of my muse and when he is in one of his moods, it often works for me best to let him lead. He led me along on Drifts and it seems to really speak to people. 

My books and stories are all over the map when it comes to content and inspiration and I never really know when I am going to have an idea strike me just write where I spend days and days in a focused writing jag, even muttering ideas for progression in the plot as I grab a shower or scrawling them on my hand or bedside table in the wee hours of the morning. 

The book that is about to come out was one of those that progressed in such a manner and it was written after my son made an offhand comment about how he respected a man who would man up and be a father to a kid, even when it was inconvenient when his father who was supposedly a macho tough guy, did all he could to hide from a little baby and a woman. It was just the one comment and that was all it took, like so many things.

Trying to learn to talk about my writing is a work in progress with me. I can talk about a great many things, and I think I am getting better talking about my work, and my writing, and I have my temper mostly under control and Lord knows that insults just roll off of me, especially those from women and strangers because they don’t know me or where I have been. I had some heifer try it with me on FB the other day, she tried to insult me by commenting that my picture wasn’t particularly feminine. Uh, no duh? Im 43 years old with 4 kids at home, I have no social life or anything like that and I have lived a bit of a rough life, so I told her to go ahead and say all the things she needed to say to make herself feel better about herself. If calling me less than ladylike made her feel better about herself, well then,”Bless her heart” ,(oh yeah, I did use that), I told her to go ahead and have at it. I’ve been told worse by better.  I took the high road, didn’t use a swear word or a threat or anything like that, I just broke out the Texan/Southern manners and I broke it off in her and left her looking like what she was and funny thing was, she wasted no time in pulling down her comments. Bully’s and mean girls don’t scare or bother me, I see your pissy little teen angst and I raise you a Hells Angel prospect with a straight razor to your throat in a room where your kids are. I have walked through the valley of that shadow and I was the one who made it out the other side. So I guess I will figure out the whole talking about my stuff pretty soon too. 

Dear Roger:Living The Dream In The Red

I know some of my friends are seeing that title and giggling, that’s okay, I meant it in a slightly pervy way, (you know that I, of all people, would), and what I am talking about is working to make a living as an Indie author/single mom/disabled person/nobody with a few crazy friends who believe in you as your only support team. When I first got encouraged to put my work out there for people to look at and read, I was skeptical, after all, these days, you have to kinda already be somebody to get into any kind of entertainment business or you have to have a bunch of money and I have neither of those things in my court. Most months we dont even have enough money to pay all the bills on time, so I was worried about costs and actually getting the actual books put together, but I had time on my hands because when you dont have money, you dont go places or do things so I researched and got all the information and I started small with Drifts. It was my sacrificial lamb so to speak, and I figured if it got ripped to pieces, I would just pull it off the market and go back into my cave.

Drifts didn’t get ripped to pieces though, and as I write this, its hit over 450 sales on its own. That, I have been told, is kinda a huge freaking deal for an Indie author with no agent who self-published and is self-advertising with the aide of their friends on social media only. I was sent an article that said most books never sell over 99 copies in a year, and I have made that in a month. Now,I wish that meant I was getting rich and raking it in, but with most of those being e-sales or digital downloads of which I get a small percentage, I have yet to see a dime, in fact, I have seen nothing from the e-sale version as of yet and wont until 60 days after  I actually break $100 bucks and with that still quite a ways off, I am still very much in the red. My print books have been what have been amazingly making me the most money. People, especially those who are around my age, like to get something for their money, and I dont mind doing the leg work of actually walking my ass to the post office with my kids to mail out the books to all kinds of far-flung places, and once it was realized I am a hell of a lot cheaper than the big companies, people have been just ordering from me, I sign or inscribe the book and then mail it out to them, but still, in the red. Its crazy expensive to do all this stuff and even being smart about it,(which I wasnt in the beginning), it still takes awhile to get the books in, and then make sure I have everybody handled and then I have to wait for a day when its not pouring down rain like we should be watching for Noah to start rounding up critters, which is a bit of a thing in Portland, so I can walk to the post office with the kids since I still cant afford a car.

I published another book that I wrote over the course of a year and its very close to my heart and its very personal. There are a lot of things in it that are symbolic and there is a lot of gallows humor to go along with the Texas humor that comes with growing up back in East Texas in a time when things and people were different. That book has been great for reconnecting me to a lot of people that I would have never reconnected with, and it also helped force me to deal with a lot of things I would have never had the courage to face on my own. Its been a tricky path talking about that book. People want to know more about the characters and I really cant tell to much about some of them because it would spoil the story for the readers. There are a few people who know who is who and what is what and that’s all that matters, maybe after I am gone they will tell tales out of school and put those rumors to rest, but for now, im not going to talk about somethings, including Beau.  I will tell you that the monkey is real, if you have seen my videos or my summer avatar, thats him sitting on the counter next to me. Fergus was real. Those kids? Oh hell yeah, if you follow me on twitter of FB or any of those places, you know all about my little girl and her obsession with THAT BOY. #fml (yeah, im not too thrilled), but I guess it could be worse.

My daughter is my “manager”, she runs the show around my little writing world and tries to force me to get people to pay attention and buy my book, but with my Southern thing I have struggled with the whole insecurity thing and with waiting for the other shoe to drop. I was on the phone with Puerto Rico last night trying to track down cops to get a kid some help and speaking very bad Spanish in the process while she was harassing a fella who was one of the few I dedicated my pride and joy novel to. See, I had sent him and a couple of the other boys copies of the book as a way of saying,”Thanks” for inspiring me and saving me, and while I was glad to know they got them,(that alone gave me a near heart failure moment), she had been wanting to know if they LIKED it  because I had been mopey due to my reviews being low in number,(I thought), and she is a driven lil thing. Shes like a terrier with a bone and will worry it to death,(I am a prime example of that), so she had my computer because hers was dead, she was logged into her account as I paced in the kitchen speaking  my combination of “Bad Spanish” Arabic, and French, trying to not obsess over the fact someone else was on my computer, or that my Spanish was really bad and that I had been called crazy and probably a few other things as she and some of my friends harassed that poor boy like he was a cat cornered against a fence. When he said my book was “Cool” she shrieked. Jumped up, ran around the room like 3 or 4 times, rolled around on the floor and then hugged me and beat on my back until I coughed.   Honestly? I kinda felt like doing the same.

I’ve got quite a few reviews now, and another book about to come out in the next couple of weeks. I don’t know if I’m ever going to make a profit at this, but its a blast to connect with people and see the reactions to my writing , and honestly, I have enjoyed getting all the artists and photographers connected and working together and we are building a little network of people who are trying to keep the memory of something that was amazing, alive.  Its not easy and we may never get rich and famous doing it, but we are united by the 100th Monkey effect and that is rich in many, many ways.

Dear Roger: Leashing In The Control Freak

I have finally gotten some help with editing my writing. Yeah, yeah,  I know! I should have done it a long time ago, but when you are a highly distrustful, highly critical of your OWN self who takes every little mistake pointed out as an arrow directly to the heart, its very hard to do, but a weird thing has happened lately! i have actually been able to work with a couple of people who have been able to help me control my comma habit, and who have been able to point out and help me correct the things my terrible eyes miss on my 500 paranoid rereads, and I haven't gone off the deep end. I have taken the assistance, managed to remember to thank them and I have used it.
I think because they aren't sarcastic and mean, grabbing the back of my neck and smashing my nose to the paper while they yell at me about all the "Stupid mistakes" I have made, really helps. They are really pretty nice about it.
Remembering what has made me such a glitchy, insecure, over the top, unable to deal with compliments or criticism kind of person, has become a lot easier since a person who grew up with me came back into my life. He was 7 years younger than me, the baby of the small group of kids that eventually ran the meadows and East Texas swamplands that I wrote about in my book. He has been great for reminding me of things I had forgotten, or perhaps blocked out due to necessity. We both survived many of the same things and I had wondered about him often over the years and hoped he was well. I am beyond ecstatic to have him back in my life.
Giving up a little control and letting people help me has been difficult, I am not used to getting help with things or accepting help, and I am damn sure not used to having so many people being behind me and supporting me! Its been amazing and terrifying.
My own family has not been so supportive. My West Texas cousins have been, God bless them, I would truly feel like an orphan if not for them, and I will be forever grateful for their reminders that they are there and behind me in my writing, because I am essentially dead to the rest of my family.
When I call to talk to my sis now, I can tell she is uncomfortable and she gets off the phone quickly if my parents show up. My parents are not supportive of my writing at all, and even though I put quite clearly on the book the disclaimers that its fiction and even did a vblog talking about that, they are pissed off and done with me. I've always been the black sheep and I guess this just kinda relegated me to "black sheep with rabies" status, from what I have been told, they have even blocked my FB page from appearing on their computers anymore.
Its not easy being a parent, I know. My son and I are going through that whole,"You need to sort out your priorities! No! you need to stay out of my life!" stage of teenagerdom and its been rough. My muse took a runner on me during the battles and I haven't been writing while I deal with a son who essentially flunked his sophomore year of high school due to his guitar habit. Not because hes on drugs or running with a gang or any crap like that, but because he would rather sit and pick on his guitar until his fingers bleed than do schoolwork. All the work he did, he got "A's" on, because hes extremely intelligent, but hes just unwilling to do the stuff he has to do. I would threaten to sell his guitars, but I really think he would do something dire to me. You don't mess with his, "ladies". While we have been battling and arguing about his seeming lack of understanding of how the world works, (including the fact that his mom can shut off his Iphone at the drop of a hat), I have tried to make sure that he knows I still love him even when he is being hurtful and mean,and using all the cruel things he learned at the feet of his step-father to hurt me. I've heard it all, seen it all, and lived with it all, and I expect it all. I expect him to trash me and tell me how bad I am doing as a parent. I know that his life has not been idyllic or perfect, but I do the best with what I have and I really don't put a lot on him compared to what I grew up with, but its all part of the process I guess. I think its making me more prepared for the whole having my writing out for public perusal and criticism thing, because I am my own toughest critic. I burned most of my art and photography because I didn't feel it was up to standards that should be seen or that was worth wasting peoples time on, so having my writing out there where people can pick it apart and point out every little mistake and missed editing error is just the ultimate in masochistic indulgences for me.
Sending it to people who I respect and admire was the toughest step and I forced myself to do it. I agonized over it and that was what almost caused me to pull everything down and go into hiding all over again, but I did it and when I got word they actually got it? It was akin to standing on the edge of the Grand Canyon and either waiting for someone to tell me the view was pretty cool, or to give me a hard kick in the ass over the edge. Neither has happened, so that feeling of fear lingers. The resounding positive support from long-time friends and associates has been amazing and has gone a long ways towards drowning out the vitriol that is coming from my family.I never expected it. rebuilding an ego is a hard thing, and while I am kinda cocky about a few things, showing mine and what goes on in my head has never been one of them.
My books and stories and poetry are like my children, I love them with all my heart, and I nurtured them and worked hard to make them right, and I want others to love them as much as I do. Hearing that some at least care, that has meant the world and is going a long ways towards fixing many things that have been wrong with me for a long time. Who knew?

Dear Roger: Testes! Testes! What the Bulge?!

Yes, I totally stole that from a friend of mine who was battling with setting up his outgoing voice mail back in the the day. Unfortunately, it was working and it was working and recording everything he was saying as his outgoing message, so when he gave up in frustration and left his office for the evening, everyone who called into the sheriffs department to reach the public information officer afterwards for a day or so, got that particular greeting of “Testes! Testes! Does this fucking thing work?” Back then, it was laughed at and he was assisted with correcting the technology issue, nowadays it would me a major media event and he would probably be accused of a hate crime against testes or of being a man using technology.

Speaking of men using technology…what to say? A picture that left fangirls (and boys) of all ages around the world giggling their asses off and saying a very Takei influenced “Oh MY!” popped up (oh yes, humor very much intented, that too), including my small daughter! I was sitting here postulating on the possible Joel Grey “Cabaret ” influence and the meaning of the cane and all of the Red, when I noticed my my young daughter had tweeted that boy. I looked over at her, not even realizing she had typed anything and she still had a very odd look on her face. “I don’t understand.” That was the first thing she said to me. She was blushing and had a very odd smile, so I reached over and closed the picture on her desktop and said,”Daughter, I am quite sure you are not the only person in the world he does that to, go play with your monkeys and read your books, we will have this discussion in a few more years.”

After she left the room, still wearing her slightly stunned, confused, little smile, that picture was discussed and batted around on the interwebz for hours as the endless possibilities and meanings of all things that could possibly be rambling though that boys mind were contemplated, none of which, at least in the discussions I was privy to were fit topics for an 8 y/o and most werent fit topics for the under 21 , sober crowd. He is the master at inspiring such fun and it was a fun evening full of laughter and wild speculation about all kinds of things, that grown ups tend to talk about when they get the time to get a moment without the trials of life on top of them. My evening was made so much better by the inclusion of an old friend that I have known for most of my life, he was one of the first gay people I ever knew and he was how I KNEW it was not a choice, that it was the way a person was born, because I knew from the time he was 3 years old and wanted to be a Solid Gold Dancer that he was different. He survived a lot of things with me, knows a lot of my secrets of my childhood and we share a lot of common pain. He may not be my blood brother, but he is my brother and he is my chosen family and I am glad to have him in my life again. He brightened my world coming back into it and the fact he appreciates looking at some of the same fellas? Hell! I know we will have much to talk about and catch up over.

By the way, Wordpress still confuses the hell out of me.

Dear Roger: Reading Aloud After Dark

So, in the midst of moving my blog over to Wordpress  http://jenniferdscroggins.wordpress.com and trying to get things sorted out for exploring new ways to promote my writing, it was suggested that I read aloud from my book to give folks a bit of an idea what the story is like a little further on in.
My kids laughed their butts off over the chapter I read because they remember it as it  happened.
The chapter I read from is from the second part of the book and its after the characters have grown and have kids of their own and set out to return where to where things started in Texas.
A few people have commented that they would love to see my little book brought to life in other ways, and while I don't have the resources for that at the moment, my little girl is creative as all get out and who knows what she will be capable of some day, and eventually it will be hers anyway, so if she wants to, or if she wants to just let it quietly vanish into the family history,one never knows what the future holds.

I don't know how much longer I will post here. I'm a creature of habit and it often takes me awhile to get used to something new, if I ever do, so bear with me if I show up sporadically in both places, and if you haven't checked out my authors page on Facebook,(https://www.facebook.com/JenniferDScroggins) please do, I will be posting news about up coming new books and other things related to my writing as well as trying to link together all the Indie Artists and writers out there in our little world so we can pool our resources and help each other along, because that is what its all about, giving everyone a hand up and spreading the "Effect".

Ballad of a Ladyman: Hipster Hanky Codes

Ballad of a Ladyman: Hipster Hanky Codes     Im just gonna drop this here for everyone to read...Im loving it. Either/Or, whatever persuasion you ascribe to, when you see things that make you go,"Hmm?!"  Its nice to know you aren't the only one. So me an my black bandanna will just wander on off to sit and speculate and giggle.

Dear Roger: Guerrilla Parenting?

Sitting around this morning teasing a poor boy that is about to become a daddy for the first time about all the things he has to look forward to with a youngster underfoot, I have been reminiscing about all the things I experienced with my pack of young-uns and I have to wonder, how the hell I am sane at all, and if I am?
Kids do all kinds of things that your reaction to, while you are in the moment, really say a lot about you as a person and as a parent.  When I was a rookie at this whole situation, I used to want everything to be perfect. I wanted my eldest son to always be dressed like a little Lord Fauntleroy and I was always worried about what he ate and how he slept and if his poops were normal and all that great stuff. I didn't even have him snipped because I didn't have a pecker so I didn't know if it mattered or not and I couldn't bear the thought of one little ouchie ever happening to him ever! I carried him around in my arms so long that I swear the child probably thought he hadn't been born yet we were so attached.
I was insanely protective, didn't even cut his hair until he was nearly 2 and his little pink curls were getting him called 'Girly" by all my friends. Ahh yes, my "Friends", the ones who would do things like slip him sips of soda and other junk food when I wasn't looking or who found it highly amusing to teach him bad words like, "Asshole" and other such pleasantries. They especially found it amusing to teach him to use it to address strangers.
Kids are like that, they will pick up on the most inappropriate, foul word that you wish they had never heard and the will fixate on it and then, when you least expect it or want to even admit YOU know what it is, they will trot it out in public or around polite society and expose you for the true deviant that you are. Lately, my middle son, who has Downs Syndrome, has been obsessed with the phrases "Boner" and "Gay Sex" . He is in middle school. He comes home with the most charming things that he has been put up to by the lovely boys, (and girls) of the middle school world and he likes to share them with the world at large. The lady who runs the market we shop at on a regular basis now knows that, in addition to his mustache, he has pubes and that he finds her "Beautiful."  I wouldn't allow his older brother to kill him in the store, but his sister came pretty close. She shrieked in horror and said in a very loud and shrill voice, which carried all the way to the BACK of the store and down the sidewalk a bit,"CONNER!! WE DON'T SAY PUBES IN PUBLIC!"
I cant even pretend they aren't mine anymore. I cant outrun them. You will find as your kids get older, you are just too damn worn out to escape them. That has to be part of their grand scheme. They exhaust you by being so cute when they are babies that you lay there listening to them breathe and catering to their every sigh and whimper, and then when they are toddlers you cater to them to keep the temper tantrums down to a minimum so you don't get stared at like the rolling dog fight in the middle of a circus that you will feel like, and then when they are tweens, you start to realize that things are not what they seem, but by then, its too late! You are stuck! You are exhausted, often broke, and starved for sleep, sanity and decent, non-processed food and you cannot escape and you really wont want to anymore.
Once they are teens, you are totally screwed. I look over at my teen shaped lump that is laying on my couch, (even though he KNOWS I hate it when he sleeps on the couch because he sweats and funks it up), and I wonder, what happened to the little baby with the cute pink curls? Nowadays, he finds it funny to do things like blame his farts in public on me or his sister, and he burps so loud that people turn and stare, but hes looking at ME all scandalized like I did it instead. There are days I cant do a thing to please him, even though I try, and then days when I try to piss him off, that I seem to make him the happiest? Hes a guy now and he makes no sense to me.
Having kids is a crash course in the biological sciences and honestly, bio-hazards. I have had to clean things up and deal with things that have left me wondering just how in the hell its possible for me to ever want to eat food ever again. Children seem to believe that parents clothes are repository's for boogers and drool until they are well into their young adult years, and if you have a favorite t-shirt or what not, HIDE IT! they will find it and they will either paint it with barf, poop, pee or boogers or sharpie in some hideous manner and it wont even be salvageable or Hipster cool. Walls and your favorite art work also become favorite places to stash boogers for later consumption ,(I guess), I have had to gingerly scrape boogers off all kinds of surfaces in my house and I can only assume the child was trying to contribute to the overall theme?
They seem to believe that underwear is disposable and cheap for some reason and that actually pissing in the commode is only a suggestion, especially if they are boys, but when MOM gives them a lesson on aiming, that tends to correct that via traumatic mental scarring.
When you give them toys, forget about the instructions and the rules and the suggestions on how to play with it. Give them the box, get down on the floor with them and go nuts. They don't care about the rules. Kids aren't tiny little psychologists or focus groups, they are kids. Mine usually threw the toy in the commode, stuffed the cat in the box and had a blast beating on the wrapping as we chased each other around with it.
Be noisy and sing weird and inappropriate songs with them. We sang, and still sing "Keep Awake" all the damn time. Yes, people look at me funny for it. Yes, I have ended up in TWO principals offices for it,(so far), Yes! Its probably NOT intended for kids,(there is really no telling with that boy), but you know what? My kids LOVE that song. They KNOW it by heart, every single word to it and we can be walking down the sidewalk in the cold, miserable, Portland rain and my daughter will start singing it and the next thing you know we are ALL singing and laughing, (Even Stubby) and that is something.
Every kid and every family is different and they are all weird and embarrassing in their own way and kids thrive on doing things that make you want to cringe and hide, but some basic guidelines for survival are; keep the ADULT toys in a locked cabinet with the key either hidden or on your person at all times, always clear your cache and log off from your "Special" web sites, know that your friends are going to teach your kids words that you don't want them to say and know that they are going to say them in front of people to embarrass  you, blame your parents or your significant other or just pretend the person who heard it is hallucinating and crazy. Everything is surmountable, don't sweat the small stuff. Laugh at it. Material goods are just that, material goods. The only thing that matters in this life is your kid and what you mean to them and they to you. Love them and laugh with them they will remember that and love you for it.

Dear Roger: How To Be The Perfect Parent

When you find out you are going to be a parent, lots of people tend to offer you lots of advice about things from the ridiculous to the sublime. They will tell you to enjoy your last few days of sleep and sanity before your kid arrives,(that's actually pretty good advice), and they will tell you what to feed it, how to dress it, where to put it to bed and how to carry it, talk to it, and all kinds of crap.
They will judge you on what you eat and drink, how you act or look and all the crap you did before you found out you were going to be a parent, as well as all the stuff you do while you are waiting, (even if you follow all the rules to the letter), as the old saying goes,"You cant please everyone."
I am a firm believer that having a kid is a bit like a crap shoot. You can do everything right, be healthy, live healthy and still get a kid with an issue, or you can be a walking disaster of stress who drank the first few weeks you were pregnant because you HAD NO CLUE! you were knocked up, live like you are a refugee because you are hiding from a psycho, and you can have a totally healthy, textbook example of a perfect child born.
I've been a parent for over 20 years and im still learning new stuff everyday and saying things, doing things and dealing with crap that leaves me mind-boggled on a daily basis. Luckily, the flushing of weird/important stuff down the commode has mostly subsided, but we still keep a plunger and a snake in the bathroom because you NEVER FREAKING KNOW!
I have learned a few things over the years but I don't consider myself an expert by any means at all. My kids are kinda weird at times, a bit contrary and they have moments of sheer cussedness that make me forget I speak English.
I have learned that when a kid has a lovie/stuffy that they carry around and talk to and cling to like its the most important thing in the world, you always rescue it and you don't give it away. You respect that shit and you don't make fun of it. Everything has its time and its reason and if you don't make a huge deal of it, most of the time it will pass or settle out the way it needs to settle. Pick your battles and don't make the lovie one of them, you will lose.
Your kid isn't like everybody else s kid and they all do stuff at different times in different ways and it tends to work best for them. Your kid is also not you, so don't expect them to be,(this one has kicked my ass quite regularly and been the hardest thing for me to deal with), especially with my eldest two.
Your kid is not a poodle, you dont have to pimp and preen and groom to impress with them at the kid park like you do with your pooch at the dog park. Your kid will be happy naked with binky and snot in their hair, but polite society expects at least a diaper. This has also been a hard one for me and all of my sons still resent me for the sweater vests and penny loafers of their smaller days.
Talk to your kid. Not baby talk, though that is okay in small doses and if you are a dude it will totally win you points with women and get you all kinds of cred, but talk to them as they grow to. Also remember that your kids are LISTENING to you and WATCHING you all the damn time. You don't get a pass on any fuckery any more once you have kids. I get my nose rubbed in the fact almost daily that my daughter once saw me drink a beer and smoke a cigarette. "Thats really BAD mom! You could DIE and leave me an ORPHAN!"  Yeah...not cool. My cussing also gets thrown in my face almost daily. I cuss, I admit it. Im a freaking ex-cop! Im supposed to cuss! But I am strict on my kids about it and my eldest son is the strictest on the little kids.
My youngest daughter loves to sing a few songs and a couple of them have cuss words in them, including "Dinosaur" by the Mechanical People. We even remind her, "Stevie, don't forget to Graupner edit", but she usually does and then shes in time out for 10 minutes usually muttering on her way,"Dang it! Ben!"
Your kids listen and you are their first and most important and influential teacher. If you are racist and homophobic or just plain ignorant, you are going to make life hard for your kids while they grow out of it, I know, believe me, I KNOW.
The most vitally important thing that you need to absolutely know and have to be a parent though is this; you have to be ALL IN. You have to have complete and total, UNCONDITIONAL LOVE for your kid NO MATTER WHAT. If they are cute and perfect born to a life of privilege and joy, or damaged, homely, born in a ghetto, if you are all in and love that child with all your heart and soul and they KNOW that, then that child is golden. Never let them feel doubt for that for one minute, even if they test you and do things that break your damn heart and make you crazy, always, always, always tell them and let them know you love them and that you are there for them, because if you aren't, who will be? The difference between the broken and damaged people in the world and those who fly above it all, is that those who fly were loved.
If you are about to become a parent, you are already flying so its your turn to pass those wings on.

Dear Roger: This Wasn't Included The Mom Handbook

Today was a weird day around here, my eldest son had spent the night over at his buddies house again so I was home alone with the three youngest once again. My little girl got up early and took off to church as she usually does on Sunday, and then I was home with my two boys, who often miss out on church because there isn't room in the friends vehicle for them or Stubby just refuses to go because hes afraid I might have a spare moment to myself to find my sanity.
Anyway, the little boys slept in til fairly late and I rambled around the house cleaning and doing my regular stuff til they began to stir. I had everything put to rights and was looking forward to just relaxing away the afternoon and finishing up editing a few chapters of a story and maybe writing some more on a Serial Killer/Stalker story I have been researching for a few months.
Stubby and Sticky came wandering out at the same time, all bleary eyed and grubby boxer shorts hanging off their butts, scratching inappropriate places and whining about wanting things we didn't have in the house for breakfast.I told them to go wash their hands and faces and then have some breakfast while I went to make sure they had shut off their things in their room and left no evidence of anyone messing with or even looking at their big brothers stuff.
The room wasn't too bad, just socks on the floor along with blankets and a few books, but the bathroom...that was where it all went pear shaped.
I know those boys were potty trained when they first stayed with their father in Arizona, I know it because I trained them. I potty trained everyone when they were 18 months to close to 4 years old for Sticky,(Downs took him a little longer), I even taught them the,"Sink the Cheerios" technique of peeing. I had to teach them that because I am a neat freak and having boys who peed all over like elderly cats with bad attitudes would not be a good thing for my sanity. Sticky actually house broke before he potty trained. It took me forever to get him to stop peeing off the front porch and I was afraid he was going to keep getting in trouble at school for peeing on the playground. His father thought it was fine, after all, his main reason for us living so far out in the country was that he wanted a house he could pee off the back porch of without the neighbors calling the cops...charming fellow.
Anyway, my bathroom looked like they had gone in there and turned into wee boy pee helicopters. There was pee on the commode seat, which was DOWN, on the shower curtain, on the bath rug, on the tiles, on the BACK of the commode, and on the oak cabinet! I'm sure my neighbors think I slipped a few gears, but something had to be done, and bad cop came out to get the attention of the pee felons.
I marched them both into the bathroom and we had a refresher course in proper pee techniques, including stance and pecker handling(clothed and simulated), boys were mortified and embarrassed. Mom was mortified and disgusted that her sons were such disgusting little creatures. They were freaked out I KNEW such things,(I did spend a LOT of time around cops, Marines, Firefighters and just..guys), you pick up a few things. They helped CLEAN the ENTIRE bathroom and apologized profusely. Sticky made sure to announce to me each time he came out and peed afterwards, "I lifted the seat and held my pecker! I'm not a helicopter!" Stubby just blushed, but I know he got the point. When Chance got home later, the boys regaled him with their tales of woe, "Man, shes crazy!"
He shrugged at them, "Dudes, its easy, don't pee on the seat, don't mistake a dude for a chick, and just stay out of her way once a month and your life will not suck." We fist bumped. The eldest finally gets it.

Dear Roger: Its All In Your Head?

Being stalked is a horrible thing to experience, I should know, I have experienced it. My stalker was relentless and intelligent and he had help. He was also handsome and charming and well educated in the vernacular of law enforcement and he had friends who were manipulated into helping him continue stalking me for over a year. We had dated and it was a tumultuous relationship, he was and still is what is known as a psychopath and if you ever have the opportunity to read  Dr. Hares book "Without Conscience-The Disturbing World Of the Psychopath Among Us", You will find something called the "Psychopathy checklist", it is a screening tool for profilers looking for serial killers and the like. My stalker met 13 out of the 21 markers.
Back in 1994/95 the stalking laws were not as strict as they are now, though they did gain some teeth after the Rebecca Shaffer incident along with several other high profile stalker/murder cases, but proving you are being stalked is very hard.
I let people know I was no longer seeing him, I told him very clearly in front of people to leave me alone, and yet he would show up and demand to talk to me. He would treat me as if I was confused and he would show up at my work and act like I had called him for a lunch date and then become enraged when I would refuse to leave with him.
We worked with each other until he was advised to resign, and he made my life a living hell. He injured me several times, but they were all,"Accidental" including a broken tailbone, a severely dislocated shoulder, and multiple bruises and contusions.
I would get texts late at night when I was off duty,(before the days of good cell phones mind you) that were police code telling me that the man I was seeing had been shot in the line of duty. I was terrorized for months, followed and even though I was pregnant, he continued with the abuse and threats and assaults...yes, the assaults.
I moved. He found me. I changed phone numbers, he had it in days. I moved again, he found me again and left notes on my car. He denied the baby,(thank God), and threatened me and the child with death repeatedly, and then left flowers hanging on my door.
I moved to a security complex and things settled for a little bit. I had to hide from everyone. I had to cut of almost all contact with all friends, including the department I had started off with and I had to skulk into my own grandmothers house like a thief in the night.
I lost work, I tried restraining orders, protective orders, police escorts and when he tried to grab me at a college campus one night, coming out of the dark all clad in black with no warning, my shriek of terror had him surrounded by 10 very large and angry Tucson Fire Fighters who had been in the class with me and who already knew him from his past reputation, but it was the death knell of my career. I had to hide, so hide I did. I had my son very quietly with no fanfare or announcements and we moved to a place where we had over 150 very large and protective and armed brothers and sisters and for over 5 years we were safe. The state notified him about the birth he denied it, the state determined he was a very credible threat to our very lives and told me that no support or father would be forthcoming for my son, ever.
Before we moved to the far away place, he had tried to break into my apartment. He pointed a gun a me, he was a fan of the knife and razor as well, and the things he did to small creatures he caught on his property still leave me shuddering, so I count us lucky.
My stalker was very charming, he would tell me I didn't know what I needed, that I was,"Confused" and that he would take care of things.  He could be pleasant and fun to be around until that switch turned and then he was the most terrifying thing on the planet. His best friend was a Tucson PD officer who was giving him my personal information every time I updated my DMV records as required for my EMT license, so in essence, I was giving him my address each and every time. When that was discovered the officer was demoted and suspended, but I wish he had been fired because he cost me my credit, due to all the moves,(no allowance for that in most leases back then), and my career. There were days I literally thought I was going crazy and that maybe he was right, maybe I was imaging things, but then when he came to my door and tried to break in when my sister was there, I knew I wasn't and he would not stop until he was stopped or he killed me.
To this day I still twitch a little when I see a blue Toyota pickup truck or my son gives me an expression that looks just like him.
When I became a cop and focused my studies in Criminal Justice, I narrowed my focus to Serialized crimes and Sexually Motivated Homicides because I think I may have a very unique understanding of that line of insanity.
The state investigator who had questioned him and then later came out and spoke to me very candidly said that he was, in fact, quite clearly a psychopath and that I was probably very lucky to be alive and not dumped down some abandoned mine out in the west side of Pima County.
I've gotten pretty good at spotting folks like him and it worries me when I see they have resources like the internet to aide their insanity. I shudder to think what would have happened had my stalker had the net or phones with trackable Gps, or even worse, Google maps and public records databases on the web like those I have observed have to utilize at their fingertips.
I have advice for those being stalked, do not take it lightly, its a very serious matter. If a person has been by your house, that is a credible threat and you are in very real danger and if its happened more than once, they have met the California penal code requirements for Stalking (646.9) and if they have made threats, via electronic media, that is Criminal Threats  (422pc) and is a FELONY and they can go to prison for it and they SHOULD.
I quit worrying about what people thought about me when my kids safety came into play and I lived like a scrub for many years to keep him safe, 16 years later I have a healthy, happy and gifted son who knows what I went through and my stalker is a lonely and bitter man who is still just as scary.
The mental illness behind stalking is quite often Borderline Personality with Narcissistic tendencies, though I have seen what can only be some pretty significant schizo-affective disorder in those that I have observed of late. The interwebz is a scary place, and people send me the stuff of nightmares in what used to be a place of sunshine. God, I hope someone is paying attention.

Dear Roger: Miles To Go

Some times I get a reminder that I still have things to deal with, and I guess with all the stress and things I have been dealing with over the past few days, I was due a good one.
Nobody got hurt, but it took me a while to calm down and the person who was involved in the situation ended up standing on the sidewalk with me having to reassure himself that all was well.
Stevie and I took advantage of a break in the rain to walk to the market to get some milk and bread, as well as to just get the hell out of the apartment. I needed to walk off some of my frustration and work over some of my story idea. I had been talking to a friend on twitter, so I wasn't really paying close attention to things,(my bad), and I had Stevie talking to me and distracting me as we walked down the sidewalk.
I was comfortable, not too worried, a lot on my mind and not paying attention. A tweet came in and I slowed to look at my screen because its hard for me to read being its so small. All of the sudden a male voice said in my ear as they touched my shoulder, "Excuse me".
I yelled, shoved Stevie out of the way and turned to fight. Mind you, we were in an area that is where transients congregate for meal handouts, no one had been behind a few minutes prior and he startled the hell out of me.
He jumped back and immediately began apologizing. Stevie began laughing,(she wasn't hurt or even scared), it was an older man we see all the time walking the sidewalk with his wife.
He apologized and said,"I'm sorry, I was in Nam, I learned to walk light. I didn't mean to scare you, are you a Vet? You act like a Vet."
We stood on the sidewalk a few minutes, squared off while I calmed down, him reassuring me he meant no harm he was just trying to go around me, me apologizing for not paying better attention. We eventually nodded at each other and even fist bumped, and then he turned around and said,"It will get better, just give yourself time." Holy hell! I hope so.
Stevie is taking over some of the more stressful parts of getting my books out to the public eye. She is just more people friendly, and more pushy. She will tell people about my book and try to get them to at least give it a shot when I just want to write.
I am submitting my book to a few kickstarter style projects for authors to see if I can get any attention that way, and I'm trying to get the attention of some agents so maybe I can get it in the hands of someone who could do something with it. The less hollyweird set might see purity of the story so I am edging my way back into Cowboy Poetry and even dusting off some of my old works from those days.
I dont know if I will do a full-length audio recording of it, but Stevie sure wants it and she usually gets what she wants and I have no problem telling a story out loud that comes from my heart.