Wanting the Forbidden

*Post inspired by the TRDC Red Writing Hood prompt, "Sex."

Let's get all steamy up in here and write about sex. But you know us. There's a twist. You can't write about the act... There are so many other possibilities. And I hope you have fun finding them. Limit is 600 words.

For the first time, I am going to post an excerpt from the very first novel I've written, In the Family. It's one I would probably never try to publish (one reason being that it's long), but it's one I love nonetheless.

There isn't much explaining to do, since you can kinda get the gist of the character's conflict from this segment. Enjoy (I hope), and remember, criticism is welcome!

Michael woke to a glaring ray of sunlight.  He squinted, moving his head away from the window, and realized that all that had happened in the dark hours of the morning hadn’t been a dream.  It was very real, and the fact that Anna still slept in his arms confirmed that.  He still had his arms around her, but now her arms were wrapped snuggly around him as well, instead of at his chest, gripping his shirt.

The sensation caught his heart ablaze, hotter than it’d ever been, and he instinctively constricted his arms around her.  He could tell by her steady, slow breathing that she was still sleeping, and deeply.  He didn’t know what time it was, but didn’t care.  Hell, he’d stay this way forever if he could. 

Yes, he felt guilty.  Perhaps more shameful than he’d ever felt in his entire life.  

Yet here he was, on cloud nine with his brother’s fiancé in his arms.  And the worst thing about it was that the guilt only seemed to add meaning to this new life of his.  He’d never felt so alive, and though the shame was disheartening, it woke a part of him he didn’t know existed.  A part he thought was dead.  His emotions were raw, stripped, and he felt more vulnerable than ever before.  And the negative emotions seemed to infuse him as strongly as the positive.

But there was nothing he could do, nothing he would do.  If ever there was a time to make a play for his brother’s future wife, now would be the time.  But everything inside him, all that made up who he was, would never allow it.  So, instead, he soaked this moment in, along with the guilt at wondering how Mitch would feel if he knew what Michael was doing at this very moment…what he was thinking.

Placing his lips delicately against her hair, he inhaled, becoming swallowed in her intoxicating scent.  He closed his eyes as he was thrown deeper down the spiral that had the potential of destroying his brother’s life, and his own. 

But since the concept of releasing her was impossible, he continued to breathe her in, a tinge of lilac and citrus, and as the deepest pit in his stomach quivered and his chest caught fire, he again tightened his arms around her.  And at the same time that he was grateful for the clothing between them, he cursed it.

She stirred, murmuring in satisfaction, and moved her mouth to his neck, where his eyes closed in torment.  She lightly stretched against him, arching her back and constricting her arms around his torso as she breathed into his neck, and he realized if he didn’t pull himself away soon, he might do something he would always regret.

And as though his heart wasn’t speeding fast enough, she sighed his name, in a way that told him she wasn’t quite awake.  It was the best sound he’d ever heard.  Damn his brother and their situation.  Damn the fact that he couldn’t throw everything away and lose himself in that moment like he knew he could. 

He used all his focus to control himself.

Then she murmured his name again, louder, and he swore under his breath.  “Anna…”

“Michael?” she replied, and he knew she was coming to. 

Then she stiffened and he was sure she’d just realized the predicament they were in.  She pulled her face away from the crook of his neck, where they met each other’s eyes, and hers were wide.  His lips were close to hers now, and with the heat of their bodies together, tangled beneath the warm blankets, he knew if he was any weaker a man, his open mouth would have found hers. 

Not an easy thing, nursing.

Today I don't want to pour my heart out about the economy falling apart, even though I fear for the future of my family. I don't even want to pour my heart out about Luke's upcoming surgery that we just scheduled for September 2, and how I'm dreading it every day that it gets closer.

Today I want to pour my heart out about something dear to me, that probably won't be to others. I want to rant about how my baby is becoming less and less of my baby. Every day.

Any avid followers of my blog probably know of the difficulties I have had with nursing my children (overactive letdown, etc.), but that I stick with it because I'm a huge breastfeeding supporter. However, I'm not the one who will stop you in the grocery store if you're giving your baby formula and try to give you a lesson on why that's so bad for your little one (yes, that actually happened to me with my first). I have been on both ends and don't judge anyone for how they decide to feed their baby, but for me, personally, nursing is all I wanted.

When I was pregnant with my first child, I was determined, but I had no idea that anything could go wrong or that it would be such Hell. But it was. And I started making all the wrong decisions from hour one of his life, and it snowballed. I tried everything to make it happen. Everything. Everything that I knew, anyway. But I was naive, and even the experts I had helping me seemed to be, too. No one--not even the six lactation consultants--could figure out my problem. They said it was him, that he was just too stubborn. They said he had colic. They said nursing just wasn't for some babies.

I found out years later that they were wrong, about everything. But, in that time, I trusted them. After all, they were the experts. And I was just a first time mom. So we continued to try, trying every little gadget and technique in "the book," and the process was torturous.

By the age of six weeks, Sam gave up completely. No more staying up hours in the night trying to get him to suck while he screamed bloody murder. Because he just. wouldn't. do. it. Because he was too miserable--and so was I.

And because I didn't know I was the one with the problem, I didn't know how to help him. I felt helpless. I felt like a failure as a mother. And there was nothing (that I knew of at the time) I could do to change it. And when I knew I wouldn't get to nurse my baby like I'd always dreamed, I cried. For days, I sobbed. So I did the next best thing: pumped until he was six months old, so that even though we couldn't have the bonding that comes along with nursing, he could get the nutrients. (And, man, that was a pain in the ass.)

Then  I was pregnant with Josh, and the whole subject of nursing scared me because I was worried the same thing would happen with him that happened with Sam. I wanted to nurse him so badly, and I wanted it to actually be a good experience. Then a very dear friend of mine was an answer to my prayers. She revealed to me that she used to be a La Leche League leader, and when I told her the problems I'd had, I actually saw the light-bulb above her head turn on. Because she had had the same problem with both her kids. And so do thousands of other women, come to find out. Finally, I didn't feel alone! Finally, I knew it hadn't been colic that made Sam cry all the time.

She gave me information and a website so I could arm myself with knowledge and learn how to work around the issue. (If anyone wants it, let me know. It's literally a lifesaver. Whether you have nursing problems or just want to know more about nursing in general.)

And I spent hours and countless hours on that website, finding answers to every single question I ever had about nursing and why, no matter what I'd tried, it hadn't worked for me.

And I became an "expert" of sorts (quiz me, I dare you). And when I had Josh it was difficult, as I knew it would be (a woman with overactive letdown will have it with every child), but I was actually able to manage it. I worked around it, and it was a miracle. And I was able to live the dream I had of nursing my baby and sharing that special bond. He was a five-minute nurser, which made having a life difficult, especially since he ate that way until the time he was 13 months, but I wouldn't have traded it for anything. Because I was a mom, and my baby was my priority. Nursing him was my life.

Then I had Luke, and again I spent hours on the website, re-arming myself with knowledge. And just like with Josh, it was extremely difficult those first three months. He was miserable all the time, and just like Josh, he was a five-minute eater. Five minutes, with only an hour and a half between each feeding. Because that's all his poor, tiny tummy could handle.

But then he grew up and his tummy could handle more. And unlike Josh, it began to be insufficient. Five minutes wasn't enough. But because that's what my body was used to, that's all I would produce. I tried letting him eat on both sides then (usually, I'd only nurse on one side at a time, with both Luke and Josh), and that worked for a few months. He'd eat for five minutes on one side and five on the other.

Then by six months, that wasn't enough. And he would struggle and fight, and cry, cry, cry. But not in the same way he did as a newborn. This time there wasn't enough. And last month, the first time I realized this was a problem, I cried. I stayed up late at night in the rocker and cried with him--him because of hunger and me because of my failure to again provide for my baby.

I didn't want to give up. I kept offering him the breast, but he didn't want to work for it. He didn't want to wait for that letdown that wasn't coming, even after five minutes of sucking--that same letdown that only four months ago came too forcefully and too frequently. I don't know how it happened, and why it didn't happen this way with Josh, but for some reason, I was losing my supply. Probably because he didn't want to keep working so hard for something that was so lacking.

So I gave in and gave him his first bottle of formula. (Because regardless of the opinion of some people, babies will not eventually get hungry enough to give in and nurse. Instead they will give up. Instead they will cry themselves to sleep and starve. I know this because this is what I experienced with my first, and what a good friend of mine (who is a nurse at a NICU) experiences at work on a regular basis. And my baby's health is more important than hanging onto the hope of nursing.)

And Luke loved it. He loved that it flowed so easily and never stopped coming unless he stopped sucking. And for the first time in weeks, he was actually satisfied, actually happy.

So over the last month I have had to supplement, mostly before bed at night (as well as give him solid food 3 times a day, because he loves to eat). And it's been hard for me, but I've dealt with it.

And then over the last week, it's become an every-feeding thing. I nurse him first, let him get all the breast milk he can, and then, since he'll only nurse for about 3 minutes before he gets too upset to finish, I'll give him formula. And it's been this way at every feeding for the last week, with the exception of the feeding in the middle of the night, every night. At least I still have that.

But now he is drinking way more formula than he is breast milk, and I know it won't be long before he won't be nursing at all. And I'll lose my milk completely.

He is only seven months, and I'm so not ready for this to be over. I feel like he is pulling away from his baby-hood. Way sooner than I'd like.

But this time is different than my first. Even though I mourn that connection to him, I'm also knowledgeable and experienced enough now to know I'm not a failure as a mother. That I can still have just as good a bond with him if I cradle him as he sucks on that bottle and his little blue eyes are looking into mine. I'm not going to go into a depression over it, or cry for days over it. I know that formula isn't evil (I never thought it was). I know that just because I don't breastfeed doesn't mean I'm a horrible mother. At all. I don't think anyone who decides not to nurse is a bad mother. At all.

I'm just saying that for me, it's all I wanted to do. And it's hard that I can't.

But I have tried my best, and either way, I know Luke's still my baby, and I'm still his mother. And even though the only thing that makes my bond with him different than the one with his daddy, or anyone else, will be taken from me, no one can take my place as his mother.

And I'll remember that at least I was blessed enough to have that special, precious bond with him for these first seven months, and with Josh for thirteen.

So for now, I'll hold onto those middle-of-the-night feedings with all my heart. And I will never complain about waking up to feed him in the night again.

Summer Fun Show-off!

Unfortunately, we didn't get to a beach this summer. Instead we went to Idaho and hung out around here: in the desert. We might not have done anything summery, like the beach, but we still had fun and it's been going by so fast!

Josh, Sam, and cousin Aaron at the riverbed in the beginning of the summer. 

At the ranch in Idaho. And me being hot and tired after walking five miles uphill through the wheat. Maybe it wasn't five miles.

Dad and Sam on the lake.

Me and the hubs at Davis Creek.

Grandma Julie and Josh, tuckered out after a long, hot day at Cherry Hills water park (family reunion).

Dad, Grandma, and the kiddos at the ranch.

Me, Luke, the clown-lady, and the pony at the fourth of July carnival. There's a long-standing inside joke about me and ponies between my hubs and his uncle. It's cruel and unfair. And they thought it'd be funny to take a picture of me with a pony. Neither I nor the pony thought it was funny.

Have some awesome summer memories you want to show off? Link up with Shell at Things I Can't Say and show off your summer pics! Also, if you link up, you have a chance to win some cool prizes from Ubisoft!

Top Ten Food

I decided to start participating in a new, hot trend. I'm a list person and everything I do is in list form. Because I have the worst memory ever and can't remember a single thing unless I write it down. Plus, being able to cross something off a list is almost better than sex a great feeling of satisfaction and accomplishment.

I plot out my novels in list form, I plot out my blog post topics in list form, I plot out my daily to-dos in list form, and I shop in list form.

I know, who doesn't? But I'm anal about it. I have to rewrite the list before I go to shopping and arrange the items on my list in order of where they are in the store. And then if I remember something else I have to get while I'm at the store, and I have a pen with me (sometimes I forget one, probably because it wasn't on the list), I will add it to the list.

Okay, enough with my list fetish. Here's my first Monday Listicles post (stop by Stasha's blog). And the fact that it's based around food is even better. Here are ten foods I'd rather die than live without (okay, maybe not die, but it sounded good):

1. Cake. Anyone who knows me well knows that cake is my all-time favorite food. I could eat a whole cake alone. Seriously. I can't even watch Cake Boss or any other cake show because it makes me crave it all day (though I watch them anyway). One time I even ran to the store after an episode of Cake Boss and bought a cake all for me to share with my family.
2. Chocolate. Because I'm a stereotypical woman. And I need chocolate.
3. Caramel. Because it makes everything better. Chocolate, ice-cream, apples, salty snacks, vegetables. Just kidding on the vegetables.
4. Bread/rolls. I'm addicted to bread almost worse than I am to chocolate and cake. Almost. I could eat a whole pan of rolls in one night if I let myself. I'd be suffering all night because of it, but I'd do it. I've done it before.
5. Cheese. Oh, cheese. I love cheese. Cheese is another thing that makes everything better.
6. Fruit. I know, something healthy. It's a surprise. But I do love fruit. It's refreshing, sweet...mmm. Makes my mouth water just thinking about it. In fact, when I'm pregnant, it's all I usually want.
7. Meat. All kinds (except liver and other gross body parts that should never be eaten). Chicken, Beef, Pork, Fish. Love it all. I could never be a vegetarian for that reason. Never. Move aside salad. Give me a juicy burger or a big fat steak and I'm good.
8. Other carbs. Pasta and potatoes go great with everything.
9. Oreos. Because...well...they're oreos.
10. Mexican Food. I love me some good Mexican food. In fact, it's one of the perks of living in Arizona (and to me there aren't many). There are some great Mexican restaurants here. An enchilada smothered in cheese...mmm.

Notice how most of these are junk? Yeah. I guess you could say I'm like a kid in the way I always want sweets. I crave them. And it's not like these are the only foods I eat, but I stuff my face with junk all day and I really don't eat them a lot. But I'm working on limiting them from my diet even more.

Though so far, to no avail.

The Liebster

Thanks, Becky (the Hummingbird Hollow), for nominating me for the Liebster award!


Blushing.

I always love getting nominated for awards, especially since that last award I won before I started blogging was for singing in a talent show my freshman year of high school, and before that, an Albertson's coloring contest when I was ten (I believe the picture was Aladdin and Princess Jasmine on the magic carpet, and my prize was the greatest movie of all time: the Return of Jafar. Haven't seen it? Check it out. The compelling film will move you, I guarantee; a true masterpiece in cinema.).

"The Liebster Blog Award is designed to bring additional recognition to those bloggers with less than 200 followers. If you receive the award, you should link back to the blogger that nominated you and nominate five more blogs. Also, don’t forget to let them know that you nominated them."

How fun. In a way, it reminds me of those chain letters in high school, only a lot different.

Okay, so maybe they're not alike at all, but that's what I thought of. You know, back in the day when kids actually used real paper and pens to write notes. None of this texting hooey. 


I admit, I'm actually quite find of the texting hooey, since I absolutely loathe phone conversations.


Plus, in staying up until one o'clock in the morning and ruining my chance at a good day tomorrow participating in something fun, I get to showcase some really awesome chics with some really awesome blogs.  Here we go:

1. Becky, at the Hummingbird Hollow. Of course I had to start with Becky. Because she is amazing. If ever there was someone who cared about every soul and considered and respected every person's viewpoints and beliefs, it would be Becky. She is amazing in that way. Becky is a great friend, and though our beliefs on some things don't align, we have a mutual love and respect for each other. Because she makes it easy. She is an excellent photographer, and shows her work on her blog, as well as book reviews (she loves literature and reading and learning about everything there is to know) and fun, easy craft ideas. Go check her out!
2. Jen, at Runner Mom. Jen and I were made from the same mold. Seriously. When we first came across each other's blogs, it was like we were reading about ourselves (except for the fact that she's actually in shape and I'm sure has killer-smokin legs). She's my bloggy-sister (is that even a word?) and an amazingly great blogger--as in, she will always comment and always reply to your comments on her blog. She is a mom of four cutie-pie kids, a running addict, and so creative with words. If you like me, then you'll love her (I hope you like me. You're reading my blog, so you better.), so stop on by!
3. The Sarcasm Goddess, at For the Love of Writing. Because holy CRAP, can that girl make me laugh. Every single post. She's hilarious, says it like it is, and isn't sarcastic at all, ever. Her topics mostly consist of bacon, sausage, and other things I don't have the guts to blog about, like "bajingos" (They're cute, furry animals, Mom, that's all). But I'm sure she doesn't need this nomination, because she's quickly working her way up to 200 followers. So go make her even more popular.
4. Lori, at Immersion Blog-apy. Lori is a Christian woman and one of the greatest writers I've "known." I started reading her blog through a writing linky and became hooked on her fiction voice. So vivid and palpable. I was a follower right away. And then, as if her beautiful prose weren't enough, come to find out, Lori can write some killer poems (I'm jealous). She's so talented and works so well with words, that the lines just flow and you can feel the rhythm. Check out her work on her blog.
5. Mel, at Less Than Perfect. Mel is a wife, mommy, and pet-mommy, and is one of the most supportive bloggers I've "met." She mostly shares stories about her mommy-hood and day-to-day life, which always pull me in and always seem to relate. She's an excellent post writer, and can always infuse authenticity, humor, and even gravity, in all the right places. I've loved getting connected to her, so you should, too!

I *do* love pets. I think.

It's been a while, I know. I'm sure after four days you're all realizing you forgot I even existed wondering if I've fallen off the face of the earth. But I assure you I am alive and a bit insane well. I'd like you to meet Zeus, a German Shepherd/Lab mix, and the newest addition to our family:

But watch your feet and legs and clothing and anything else that moves or dangles. Because he will bite it, I promise you. Unless he's sleeping. Which he actually does a lot of.

Zeus has been taking a lot of my time lately. Basically, anytime I'm not taking care of my kids, I'm taking care of him. And then some.* Turns out having a puppy is a lot of work. A LOT. Who knew?

*I may have exaggerated. I've also been busy with other stuff, too. And I have actually had some free time (obviously, because I'm typing this right now), but I've been consumed in revisions.

But it's okay that he's a lot of work, because I would have gotten him anyway. He's so snuggly and sweet (when he's not biting). So even though I welcome the passing of this potty-training, nip-at-everything puppy stage, he's a great addition to our family.

And it couldn't have come at a better time. Our cat, Bauer (yes, she is named after the best CTU agent this country has ever seen), left a week and a half ago and never came back. And it was really hard for me. Like, I cried and everything. I know, I sound like one of those annoying people whose lives revolve around their pets an animal lover. And maybe I am now.

It took a long time for Bauer to grow on me. I used to loathe her, and I don't use that term lightly. Just ask my sisters how many times I texted them to vent about my annoying cat who used to get under my skin just by looking at me the wrong way.

Believe me when I say I was not fond of pets. Ever since I had kids, I never wanted a pet. Why would I? I already have to take care of and pick up after four people besides myself, so why would I want something else to watch after, clean up after, and who leaves hair and bad smells on everything?

But months and a litter of kittens later, she grew on me. Like, really grew on me. I actually fell in love with her, and her kittens. But mostly her.

I loved it when she was around. When I wanted to be alone, she was the only being I actually wanted in on my personal space. And she cheered me up, every time I needed it. She was so sweet and such a people-lover. She wanted to be with me all the time, even after all the evil eyes and hatred I spewed her way when she was young. She loved us, even the kids. Even Josh, when he'd pull her tail and lay on her. She'd let him. Because she loved us. And we loved her.

And then we got rid of her kittens. Three days later, she left, probably to go look for them. She always left, but the longest she'd ever been gone was twenty-four hours (no, that's not another 24 reference). But two days went by, then three. Then a week. And me--the self-proclaimed pet-hater--was sick over it.

Literally. I couldn't eat. It occupied every thought. I always thought I heard her, and even ran to the door a few times like a fool, picturing her running through the hole in the fence and right into my ex-animal-hating arms.

I was so depressed and didn't want to do anything. I wanted to go out and find her, but didn't know where to look. And I was scared what I'd find if I did. I sobbed, for a whole day, and my heart literally hurt. (And still does)

Ridiculous, right? She's just a cat.

Well, that's what I would have said before. But now I don't care. I admit it:

My name is Jennie Davenport, and I'm a Bauer-lover. No, scratch that. I'm an animal lover. Deep breath.

(Hi, Jennie.)

I just miss her. And one day, Dave told me straight up that I needed to get over it. I needed to stop holding to the hope that she'd come back. Because, realistically, she wasn't. She was gone, probably lost to a coyote or a mountain lion, or maybe even a havalina.

And that just made me sicker.

But then we found the ad on Craigslist for a puppy. And Dave's been begging me for one for forever. And I was broken and needed something to take her place, even though I knew nothing would. But, I thought, maybe in losing myself in this new puppy, I'd get over Bauer's loss quicker.

And it has.

And I admit this puppy was hard for me. Because even in the good ol' days of teenage-hood, when I was a cat animal-lover, I never was a dog person. I've never owned a dog, didn't really get their appeal, honestly.

And I'm still not quite there yet. When someone would say, "Look at that cute puppy!" all I'd see is a chore. And an attention whore.

But I'm coming around. And I have a feeling that I'll get so hooked to this dog, even more than I did to Bauer. And that worries me. Because if I was that distraught over a cat we had for a year, how will I be if we have Zeus into my kids' teenage years and then we lose him?

Oh well. I can't run from loving him for that reason.

So, here's to our future, Zeusalicious. You are pretty darn cute and impossible not to love. I really liked walking you yesterday and I love that my kids will have a companion as they get older, one that will most likely be five times their size. Just please get through your annoying stage fast.

And Bauer, I miss you like crazy still. Your food bowl is still waiting in the garage, still stinging my heart every time I see it. So, if you are out there, we're always here waiting.

She used to get between me and the computer when I'd write, because she wanted all my attention. Either that or she thought she was human and wanted to type.

If you made it this long in this sickening, mushy animal love-fest post, then you're probably an animal-lover. Because if you're not, you probably rolled your eyes at the beginning and stopped reading: the very thing I did when reading crap stuff like this a year ago, and still do. 

Joining the BlogHop!

This post is on behalf of the FIRST annual Boy Mom BlogHop, hosted by the M.O.B. Society (A blog community for moms of boys, BY moms of boys). So here's a little about me, my boys, and this blog.

I'm Jennie, and I'm a mom to three very blond boys: Sam, who is 4.5 (that .5 is very important to him), Josh, who is 2.5 (and that .5 is very important to me), and Luke, who is seven months old. So between them, my hubby, and our new puppy, Zeus, I'm pretty outnumbered in our house. And one day, when the boys' testosterone levels skyrocket, I'll need some serious help. Seriously.

I post about everything under the sun on this blog, including funny things my kids do/say, updates on our little family, my own rants (that's a big one, and my bad temper is a common trend), and many writing prompts to fill in the in-betweens.

Along with being a SAHM, I'm a writer and aspiring author. I love to write, and that's what occupies most of my free time late at night, when the house is asleep and my mind can finally breathe. I've written three novels, two of which are still in the extensive editing process. I hope to get published someday, but I'm not sure where the road is going to take me. And there's a lot about that journey I also share on this blog.

My kids like any books with letters and numbers, and my oldest loves learning and "writing" on my computer (opens MS Word and types random letters, etc.), as well as any computer game. Even if he doesn't have the slightest clue what it is or how to play. He would be on the computer all day if he could, where as Josh would be at a park all day if he could.

I love a good book, a great movie, or a well-written TV show, I love the outdoors and spending time with my family, I love chocolate and carbs (or eating general), I love some good, dry humor, I call my kiddos "children of the corn" on a regular basis, and I absolutely LOVE being a M.O.B.

And I'm always happy to meet other bloggers!