Sunday, July 26, 2015

Moving!!

I am moving my blog over to my website! You can now find me at http://www.elizabethsorgenfreiwrites.com/! We'll see you there :)

Friday, July 24, 2015

The Power of Three

When my son turned one it didn’t seem to faze me. I was fairly excited that we had made it to this milestone, because he shouldn’t have. He was premature at 36 weeks 6 days. He was considered premature by one day, but developmentally it felt like more than just a day. He didn’t breathe at first and by the grace of God we had a wonderful nurse that recognized this before it was too late. He ended up spending a week in the NICU, the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit. Even when he came home, I spent that first year sheltering him from everything and everyone because the littlest cold could kill him.
            After that first year, the fear diminished, I do not worry as much about him as I once did. I do not worry that tomorrow he could come home with RSV and we will end up right back in the hospital. Instead I worry about him growing up.
            I realized today that my baby is three. He is 90% of the way potty trained, drinks out of a glass, has a love for books, and talks in semi-complete sentences. This realization not only scares me it is heartbreaking. My fragile baby now tells me not “to touch me” and would rather play with his cars and watch a movie than sit on mommy’s lap (except right now, he's currently asking me which one of his books I want him to read to me). He can communicate exactly what he wants in words, not cries. The power of three.
            He is no longer considered a baby; he is a toddler. He can keep himself busy. He can be his own best friend. He can feed himself, and put himself to bed. I no longer have to frantically call the doctor when he is coughing so hard that he vomits, he now can have ‘big boy’ cough medicine, and he takes it like a pro! The power of three.

            He's learned to ride a bike. He's learned how to open a bag of cheez its. Not only is he growing and learning new things, but so is mommy, so am I. The power of three.
            I am learning patience, and succeeding in more than I ever thought I would have. I am learning that this is not the last time I am going to have to let him go right into the mud with his trike or let him get scratched by the cat because he threw his cup at her. I can't protect him while our dog is trying to lick him, because he needs to learn to deal with problems himself. I never thought I would be that overprotective mom, but I am. I don’t want anyone or anything hurting my baby. But, he knows right from wrong and I cannot continue to shield him from the consequences. And as much as you might want to argue that he doesn’t know right from wrong I have a wonderful example: Today as he was being the ornery little boy that he is, he was walking towards my mother’s flower garden (which he knows he is not supposed to mess with).  As he is walking in a dead straight line towards this he looks back at me and grandma; he gives us a huge smile, leans down to touch the flower, turns back around and says to us “no. no!”
Or this: He had an accident today. He was too busy watching his movie to go potty. Well he wet himself, and instead of saying anything he started crying. He cried and cried and cried, until I told him he wasn't in trouble. Then he stopped crying.
            Even at three he knows right from wrong. Isn’t this incredible?


            The age of three is not just an age. It is a learning experience for everyone. Each person in my son’s life must learn the proper discipline and how much freedom each person will give. And for Mommy, well we must learn how to be patient and let go, so we can properly raise an independent, smart, man. 

Wednesday, July 15, 2015

It All Begins With a Dream

A year ago my Grandfather passed away. It was tragic. Death always is. But through meeting all this family that only remembered me when I was young and sweet, I met someone who started a dream of mine. I am currently living that dream.

Jody Keisner found out that one of my hair pulling dreams is to obtain a Masters in English Creative Writing, more specifically, Fiction Writing. At my Grandpa's funnel she came over and apologized for my loss and then started talking about my fiction writing. She talked about this MFA program out of UNO like it was the whip cream on top of a sundae, the best part. I shrugged her off and went back to wallowing in my sorrows.

A few weeks later MFA and UNO kept finding their way into my thoughts, I thought I was going crazy for awhile. They whispered their way into my life. Finally I got quite annoyed with my psyche and sat down to explore what this thing was all about. Soon I found it was a low-residency program.

This made it seem unattainable. I'm a mom I can't take nine days out of my life, my job, and away from my child. No matter how sweet the program is. But UNO and MFA kept whispering their names in the back of my mind. They drove me nuts.

Finally the time came to apply and make decisions. I applied for the Iowa Writers Workshop, because you can't be a writer and not apply to the program that everyone talks about, UNK, and then last but not least the pesky UNO MFA program.

As time when on last semester UNO and MFA kept appearing in my head, and on my Facebook page. I swear to you. This thing was haunting me. It was driving me nuts. I had it in my head that I was going to attend UNK for a Masters in Creative writing, and then I would maybe, only if money allowed, get an MFA. 

Well, I heard from UNO and the director, Jenna, was really pushing for an answer. Telling me that this was the right choice. I kept telling her I wasn't sure because I had never heard back from UNK as to whether I could teach and specifics on that program. So I laid down one night. In my mind I weighed the pros and cons of each school. 

I laid there and thought about my Grandpa, and how proud he would be of me to just be laying here and be making a decision about Graduate School. I thought about how I found out about this program--at his funeral. A voice in my head told me to "Just do it." 

I walked in for orientation, and was greeted with open arms. I was engulfed in love, appreciation, and acceptance. I was brought under the arms of some of the 4th semester and Graduating students. The first time I met Jenna she shook my hand and engulfed me in the love of a truly caring director. This love is what makes being here 9 days in a row not overwhelming, or boring, or over the top.

I've been here 6 days and already I feel like I have another family. And I do. I have met the beginnings of what will build and build to be known as my writing family.

Here I am, sitting in my hotel room taking in what seems like a dream, but I know this is right where I am supposed to be. I am appreciated, loved, and free here. This is where Grandpa wanted me to go. I was just too stubborn to take the hints. 

I also was offered a scholarship to be a Resident Assistant, this scholarship pays me in full room and board to be Jenna's right hand man. I cannot even begin to describe my thrill for this little bit of money and the opportunity to work side by side the one person that gave me the push, the little incentive I needed to make a decision, and follow the pesky voices in my head. This scholarship not only adds to my resume, but it also adds to the line of people and things telling me that I can't give up until I achieve this dream.

I am so thankful for being able to be 20 years old, attending Graduate School, Facetiming my son every night, and be somewhere where I am not a nerd, but rather a peer. I'm making memories, embracing the awkwardness, and for the first time in the past year I know Grandpa is standing beside Jesus looking down on me saying "Look, that's my grandbaby."