When Things Are Different by Liz Flaherty

Congratulations to the Maconaquah Braves and the North Miami Warriors on great seasons. You are wonderful!

This morning, I printed out a three-book contract with Turn the Page Publishing. I'm happy to have it, happy that two of the books have already been written and Chapter 3 of the third one just opened with a surprise. (Writers love being surprised--just ask them.) Aside from making your stomach churn a bit and hearing a little voice in your head saying Am I doing the right thing? signing contracts makes one feel like a real writer.

Yes. Sitting here in my nightgown, slippers with holes in the toes, and a towel on my head because my hair was too dirty to be worn into a public place ... now is when I feel like a real writer. When I'm signing books or speaking to a group, I suffer from severe imposter syndrome--and say uhm far too much.

I always thought I'd feel like a real writer when I signed books. No.

We expect things to be different, don't we? I thought I would be a perfect, traditional wife. Never mind that I hated cleaning house, I was a mediocre cook (on a good day), and I was much happier reading a book than almost anything else in the world. I didn't wear makeup or dress very well. In short, I flat out failed the June Cleaver test.

However, I probably felt the most like a good wife when I went to the grocery store. Yes, really. I could bargain-hunt, I could coupon, I could make three pounds of hamburger last for more than one meal. No one else wanted to do it, so I never felt like I didn't do it as well others did. I still like grocery-shopping, but now it's because it's a social thing. People talk in Kroger and Aldi and Sav-A-Lot. They laugh. They complain about prices. If they're taller than 5'3--some people are--they reach things for you. I feel as if I belong when I'm there. (Yes, that is a hard thing to admit. Thanks for asking.)

The coolest, best, most rewarding job of my life is being a mom. Having those kids, their spouses, and their kids is such an abundance of riches. But I wasn't always that good at being the mom--just ask the kids; they'll tell you. I've never been the always-available grandparent. But when I see them, any of them, the love consumes me, and I wonder how I ever got so lucky. That's when I feel like a mom and a nana. Well, that and when I'm making chocolate chip cookies or chili. It must be something about the apron I wear when I cook...

It's been a rough week-and-some for many of us. I do the 30 Days of Gratitude thing on Facebook, and I struggle to be thankful more often than usual. It's difficult, having to realize that the country I thought I knew ... isn't. I was over-the-top upset when signs were stolen from our yard, and I couldn't figure out why it was such a big deal to me. Sitting here now, with the towel on my head getting awfully wet, I know my upset was because it was a harbinger of things yet to come for those of us who veer to the left of center.

Yep. We expect things to be different. I thought being a writer would be ... I don't know ... maybe hinging on glamorous. I thought being a traditional wife was the be-all and end-all for me. I thought I'd be super-mom instead overwhelmed-mom. I thought I'd always be there for my grandkids.

Some days are just hard, but at the end of them I'm still a writer, I'm still wife to the guy in the other recliner, and I'm still the happiest mediocre mom-and-nana around. Although the signs were stolen, the thief didn't dig deep enough to remove the hope or the values I treasure.

Have a good week. Find ways to make the different into something good. Be nice to somebody.