My name is Angela. Growing up everyone called me Angie, but when I graduated from college I thought Angela sounded so much more sophisticated. And if there's one word to describe me it would be...hmmmm...well, not sophisticated. But I tried.
If I were going to use one word to describe me it might be complicated. Ooh, or dramatic. Oh wait, messy might be a good one.
But, wait what the hell? Who uses only one word to describe a whole person. I can think of a lot of words I am not, like sweet, mathematical, organized, perfect, boring and lazy to name a few.
One constant throughout my entire life has been writing.
I once won a writing competition. It was 1983, I was in third grade. Picture it, the principal walks into the classroom to announce the winner and I sit on my hands to hide the fact that my fingers are crossed. I close my eyes and I hope, I pray "please be me, please be me." And it was.
When I heard my name it was like someone, God or just my principal Mr. Downing, saying "Yes my child, you were right, this is the path for you. You should keep writing."
And I kept writing. I wrote my f*#@ing heart and soul out in high school in journal after journal. I wrote letters. I wrote stories. I prayed for essay tests because I had/have no multiple choice testing ability. I wrote my way through a college degree in Broadcast Communications with an English/Writing minor.
I wrote grant proposals and newsletters for nonprofits after college, then marketing campaigns and web site copy for software companies. I taught one semester of English to seventh graders. I was an editor and columnist for a small town newspaper. It was so long ago, the paper didn't even have a web site.
During all the feverish writing, I met and fell in love with my husband Tim.
And then I embarked on the craziest, f&#*ing adventure ever---motherhood. I suffered from depression and mild panic attacks during my first pregnancy. I worried that I wouldn't get better. I worried that motherhood wasn't for me. Picture it, the doctor walks into the room to deliver the baby. I close my eyes and I hope, I pray "please let me be okay and be able to take care of this baby, please, please." And I was. When I heard the doctor say "meet your son, you are now a mother" it was like someone, God or just the on-call doctor, saying "Yes my child, this is the path for you. You are going to be okay and love being a mother."
Three more babies and a million ups and downs, bumps in the road and amazing, fabulous moments later, I decided to combine both my loves--writing and mothering.
This blog which I created in 2010 is a place where I share stories of my family. I write honestly about what it's like to battle demons of a not-so-perfect past while doing the best damn job as a mother to four little wonderfully adorable beings. I also write about my love of pop culture and occasionally find myself stereotypically ranting about the injustice of car pools and such like a real live mommy blogger.
Deep down, I'm still that little 8-year-old girl writing my heart out, hoping people like it. The big difference is, instead of hiding my crossed fingers, I am jumping raising my crossed fingers with pride.
Thank you for reading. Check out my Facebook page and follow me on Twitter and Instagram (@JumpingWithMyFingersCrossed). I also recently started vlogging, becoming a member of the MomPulse community on YouTube.
Now that I've started writing again, I can't stop, again. I freelance, write product and movie reviews. I've blogged for The Patch, Moms Clean Air Force and I occasionally write on my other blog A Gluten-Free Family. My writing has also been featured on Mamalode, What To Expect and Bon Bon Break. I am also a co-producer/co-director of Listen To Your Mother in Metro Detroit. And a live storyteller. I was a BlogHer Voice of the Year for my writing in 2014 and a BlogHer Voice of the Year in 2015 for a short-form video.
If you have any questions or just want to say hi, please send a message to youngbloodsix(at)yahoo(dot)com.
Life can be pretty messy and complicated. But it can also be amazing.
Most days all we can do is jump with our fingers crossed and hope for the amazing.