Please bear with me as I write about my e-book one last time. (Promise.)
First of all, I’d like to thank everyone who has bought my book and sent me kind messages about it. I’m so glad you liked it. Here are a few of the comments I’ve received:
“Shelli, I LOVED IT! You write so beautifully.”
“We so need more supportive, non-judgmental, type of reading out there and your book really helps fill that void for new(ish) moms.”
“Pabis doesn’t offer advice, instead she shares her experiences, her expectations, and her surprises along her motherhood journey, as though over coffee. But, she does more than this–she inspires us to truly savor the moments with our little ones.”
Remember that you can give Kindle books as gifts. There is a little box under the “Buy Now” box that says, “Give as a Gift.” All you need is the recipients e-mail address. You get to pick a delivery date too. They don’t need a Kindle to read the book either.
Below I’d like to offer you the Table of Contents and first chapter to give you a flavor of the book. I hope you’ll buy it. But if not, that’s okay too. I deeply appreciate that you read my blog.
Then There Were Two: Essays on Motherhood
Table of Contents
Remembering Summers Past
Preparing for a Newborn
What I Least Expected
Watching Two Brothers Bond
Every Mother’s Experience Is Different
My Attempts to Juggle Two Children
Adventures in Potty Training
There Is No Consensus on How to Raise a Child
Autumn Brings Back Memories
The Bad Mommy Syndrome
Good Habits Are Hard to Keep When You Have Children
A Trip to the Mall
Creating New Family Traditions
Finding Meaning in the Daily Grind
Our Journey to the Zoo and Back
How Children Changed Me
Time Moves Too Fast with Children
The Joys of Parenthood
I’ve Reached Autumn
Remembering Summers Past
It doesn’t feel that long ago that I spent the summer evenings sitting on a porch swing at a little old mill house I rented in Athens, Georgia. I lived a stone’s throw from the train tracks, and when a train would sit idle on the track, I could feel its ticks and hums as if it were alive and breathing on my neck. Back then, the sound of the train never bothered me.
Usually it was quiet on that street. My neighbor’s old hound dog would limp into my yard and perk up when he saw my kitten swatting at bugs and chasing squirrels up the pecan tree. I was single, and I felt I was living as close as I could to the good things I read about in my favorite Southern literature, but most especially, to the stories I heard my grandmothers tell me when I was young.
I loved the slow pace, the humidity, the old houses, and the green veil of mature trees that shrouded the homes in that old neighborhood. Having grown up in Las Vegas where everything was new and glamorous, the South felt romantic to me. The history and my heritage made me feel like I’d come back to my roots.
Besides reminding me of the South’s unsavory history, my husband will tell me that I was lonely in that house and that I hated my job. There’s nothing like marriage to give you a new perspective.
I was lonely at times. I had finally reached an age when I felt ready to move into another era. I had gone to school, traveled, worked various jobs, but my biggest dream of becoming a writer never came true. I lacked the focus and discipline, and I didn’t know anybody in the writing business. I was a dreamer who had run out of options. Or so I thought.
But I was never lonely when I sat on that porch, notebook in hand. I have always been fond of alone time, something that is scarce for a mother, and I will always love a rainy summer afternoon in Georgia. When I’m at my most harried and stressed as a mother and wife, it’s the wide porch swing and shade of a pecan tree that I long for.
In the heat of August, though three years apart, both my boys were born. Their birthdays are only one week apart. Luck of the draw.
Now summers are bittersweet occasions celebrating milestones and remembering the fleeting moments of holding a newborn in my arms. Summer licks its lips as I tell again and again the story of how daddy drove me to the hospital, and I was already ten centimeters dilated. I remember how the nurses poured into my room and swirled into action like waters over a broken dam. I tell my eldest son how I’ll never forget the look on the redheaded nurse’s face when I asked her for my epidural. She shook her head in slow motion. “It won’t help you now, honey.”
I tell my younger son how he kept me waiting until the eleventh hour. On his due date, I took my husband, son, and mother-in-law on a long walk through the woods at the botanical garden. My husband kept saying it was unsafe for me to be so far from the car in my condition. If that’s what it takes, I thought, but I wasn’t worried. It felt great to be moving along a stream that had known me when I was new to this area. I showed my son my favorite place to sit down and watch the silky water reflect the green canopy and moving circles of light.
Last night my eldest son and I were reading a children’s library book about summer, and it asked us what sounds we associated with it? After we read the book, we got out of bed and went over to the window, opened it and looked out into the nearly black summer night. It was unusually quiet, but as we strained our ears, we could hear the crickets in the woods. A bird began to sing. I told my son to breathe deeply, and I asked him if he could smell the musty air. Then we peered into the trees and spied some lightning bugs.
Just maybe I’ll pass on some of my romantic ideals to my son.