Wednesday, October 09, 2019

Some stuff and things and so then that happened.

Here's how I know your inspirational cliches don't work - specifically "If you dream it, you can achieve it" because last night I dreamed that I was driving a rainbow van off a cliff but at the same time I was across the canyon watching it happen, and then I walked into a fountain and tried to punch some dude but strangely my arms weren't working and THEN THERE WAS A DRONE OUTSIDE MY BEDROOM WINDOW and it woke me up and wasn't there and also I dreamed I was awake but I wasn't and didn't know for sure until I was trying to talk and say HEY AM I EVEN AWAKE.

Okay "life coach," you tell me how to achieve that.

I've been writing #FakeInspirationalCrap for years, *I* should be YOUR life coach because mine can actually be applied to real life.

I've posted about the ghost that lives here (with photographic evidence!) a couple times over the years, but things have been pretty quiet and ghost-free for quite some time. 

So for our eBay business, I keep the inventory in sealed tubs with handle-lock lids.
A few days ago we were looking for a dress in a tub that resides in my "dining" room - a tub that either Becca or I have been through numerous times in the past few months.

Only this time, there was a bottlecap right near the top of the pile.
A bent bottlecap.
A bent beer bottlecap.
A bent Tecate "No Retornable" beer bottlecap.

Like this, only bent a little across the top.


Okay, maybe not weird for many of you, but here's what:

I have been through that dress tub and everything in it, down to the bottom, at least 50 times whenever I am looking for a dress listed at a certain time.
Anything that's been listed has been checked thoroughly, pockets and all, at least 2-3 times.

Also, I do not drink beer.
Also ALSO, I do not buy beer.
Also also ALSO, if I did buy beer, I doubt I would buy Tecate. 
Also also also ALSO, I don't even have a bottle opener.

How did it get in that sealed tub of clothes?
How did it even get in my house?
Who opened it?
Did someone come in my house and drink a beer and unstack 3 tubs of clothes
just to put their bottlecap in the bottom sealed tub and then restack everything again?

I mean nobody here takes ambien or any sleeping pills that might make us do weird sleep things.

And where is the bottle? There is no bottle. There hasn't been a bottle.
I don't ever have visitors, so no one has come over and brought their own beer.

If it was the ghost, who bought the beer for them? Or can he or she make themselves corporeal long enough to drink a beer? Or are they starting a bottlecap collection?

I tried to get an EVP recorded while asking any ghosts that might've been hanging around but all I got was the standard old "run, get out, I'm going to kill you,"** etc etc blahblahblah so I don't even count that. I mean bitchghost please, I've been in this house over 20 years, you've had your chance.

So that happened.

**#fakenews, no EVP captured at all but I did try.

I was very recently reminded how lovely and refreshing and wonderful it is to be thought of, to be included, to be remembered, to be invited, even when the inviter knows full well you'll most likely have to decline.

So I want to remind YOU to please not forget your introverts. Don't forget your caregivers. Don't forget about those of us who really do hate to have to say NO all the time because there's just no way to make it happen.
Please keep inviting us. Please let us know you think of us once in awhile. Please be prepared to be okay with us saying no.
We hate having to say it sometimes as much as you hate having to hear it.
But at least we know you care.
And even if we forget to say it, we adore you for the thought.

This has been an Introvert and/or Chronic CareGiver Service Announcement.

Wednesday, February 13, 2019

Double the fun! Or more likely double, double, toil and trouble.

Here we are, at the annual (minus last year because ... I don't even remember, I just don't think I was in a good head space at the time) BIRTHDAY POST!
I don't guess anyone really missed it last year - I mean if you've followed this blog for any length of time you've probably got the Birthday Post memorized by now.

Sort of a boring-ish year will be one of the "milestone" birthdays so we're keeping it pretty low key. As yooooozsh. (How do you even spell that? Like "usual" only the front part of the word)

ANYWAY. If this is your first time at the Annual Birthday Post, welcome! It's the totally true and somewhat traumatic story of my kids' birth.
Is Post Traumatic Birth Syndrome a thing?
It should be. I think I have it.
Also there are LOTS. OF. PICTURES.

Every year before I revise and repost, I remember. I relive. And even if it's just for one shining day, these memories make everything else fall away: all the petty irritations and frustrations, the dislikes and grudgy feelings...all of the things that, in the long run of life, aren't worth the importance we place on them. 

It's been a long tough journey that has passed in the blink of an eye.


THE DUE DATE: June 4th
THE BIRTH DATE: February 13th. Preemies for pre-valentine's day.
These children clearly get their lack of patience from me.  They were born at 24 weeks, or about 3 and 1/2 months early. They weighed just over 1 lb. each, and were about a foot long. I'm talkin' teeeeeny tiny. Micro-preemie, I think is what they are called now.

Anyway, this is my boy, at about a month old:

I woke up the morning of February 12th, headed for the bathroom, and after about 5 minutes I called out to the baby daddy, "Either I've lost all control of my body functions or my water broke".
I'll give you a hint - my functions were still under my control.
So natch we rushed to the hospital, where the stupid ass snot face condescending nurse (actually I love nurses in general, but this one? NOT SO MUCH) had me lay on a gurney for an hour and then said that I was fine, no fluid was "leaking" (I know, gross), and the pains in my back and belly were just muscles stretching, NOT CONTRACTIONS...and then she tried to send us home. 
Me being me, I caused a scene.
Hey, guess who ended up being right about me being in labor?

Here is my little girl, at about a month old:

The doctors tried to stop my labor for 24 hours, but apparently my kids were having none of that. On the 13th of February, my boy arrived in the usual way - of course, I was knocked out for the entire thing. My daughter was still safe and secure in her bedwomb -- the idea was to let her 'cook' a little longer (which would have been weird to have twins with different birthdays, right?).  So they were wheeling me into recovery when Miss Contrary's heart rate dropped to zero, and they did a SUPERFAST emergency C-Section to get her out. Evidently she didn't like being alone.
So it was like Twins Two Ways, with extra Mommy Staples.
This is also where I discovered my love of morphine. MMMMMMORPHINE.

Their ears were still folded down (WEIRD! I didn't even know ears did that until my kids were born. It was like puppy ears or something), and their lungs were not completely developed, and their little hearts were working overtime/doubletime.

They struggled for every single breath. They fought to live.

And so they did. And so they have.
Thank you, God.

Thank you for this little miracle....(my girl at about 2 months)

and this little miracle...(my boy at about 3 1/2 months)

The doctors gave them less than a 50% chance of survival.
Fortunately they got my stubborn genes as well as my temperamental ones, because my kids wouldn't listen to percentages; they went all HAN SOLO and were like NEVER TELL ME THE ODDS!

Their hearts were overworked, their lungs were and are covered in scar tissue, they are cursed with keloid scars as well as scars from perc lines and picc lines and a million little junkie scars on arms and feet from being pricked with lancets every hour. They have scarred veins, they had damaging bleeding in their brains, preventing brain growth. And yet...    

Becca's first day home from the hospital! Nearly 4 months old and not even 5 lbs. I still have this amazingly tiny dress - I swear it's barely bigger than Barbie size. Those booties she has on? The foot part is less than 2 inches long. Each twin came home attached to oxygen and an apnea monitor - whenever we all went anywhere together it looked as though we were leaving home for a month, so laden were we with electronic equipment, oxygen tanks, diaper bags, strollers...which is partly why I became the hermit I am today. #Lazy

Here they're about 7 or 8 months old, I think (did I ever mention that I am TERRIBLE about labeling pictures? Because I am). Clearly Becca was already trying to wear some sort of tiara:

One morning I discovered that my daughter knew how to climb into her brother's crib.

When Becca was about two, this is what "Go get ready for bed" meant:

Josh had the softest, wispiest hair so I let it grow and grow... until that time I gave him a buzz-cut and he's been sporting a Greg Brady WhiteBoy 'Fro ever since. Unless I cut it myself, in which case he looks sort of like he's got the mange. #TrueStory

Josh 2007

Becca 2007

My High School Graduate 

There were middle-of-the-night phone calls with doctors on the other end of the line telling me that they didn't think THIS twin or THAT twin would make it through the night- so we'd rush to the hospital to sit and put our hands in the "baby terrarium", as I thought of them, and listen to the beeps and the whooshing of the ventilator and wait for the inevitable.
There were six months in the NICU and 3 or 4 Thanksgivings and Christmases spent in the hospital. For awhile I thought they were going to name a wing of the children's ward after us, or at least keep "our" room in reserve.

There was RSV and BPD and ROP and a bunch of other things with initials that I barely understood.
There was double hernia surgery and laser eye surgery and surgery to correct crossed eyes. 
There were staph infections and even a broken arm that was caused by changing my son's shirt whilst in the NICU - he of the tiny little brittle bones. There were breathing treatments and nebulizers and oxygen tanks and albuteral and lasix and digoxin and tegretol and synthroid and constantly changing medications and frequent seizures and paralyzing fear (well, that last thing was *me*).

I remember a tiny Becca setting her pacifier down in something that had spilled...she picked it up, took a suck, and said, "What the hell is all over this?!" It made me laugh so much that I couldn't even correct her.

I remember one single sentence of absolutely clear speech from Joshua in 21 years...he was sick and angry and yelled, "I WANT MY BOTTLE!"  It was astounding and amazing and thank goodness my mother witnessed it or I would have thought my ears were playing tricks on me.

(or The One Where Joshua Gives Duckface)

This milestone is especially important for Joshua, as he has already outlived all early predictions of life-span. Though it's a little like living under the Sword of Damocles, we do not give in or give up. And despite the fact that they were and are so fragile health-wise, for the last 10-12 years I can count on one hand the number of times they've had to go to the doctor or hospital. 

2 Twins at 22
(YES, Winnie The Pooh is still on the walls. Joshua loves Pooh bear)

*Mystery Of The Missing 23*

AND currently 2 @ 24 ea.
(or the one where that jackass boychild purposely refuses to look at the camera for 20 takes
and also is still wearing breakfast on his face because BRAT.)

How could I not believe in miracles? When I look upon those miracles every day of my life.
I love you, my babies. I have been and will always be thankful for every breath that you take, every blink of your eyes, every morning that you wake. I love you with everything inside me.

You still make me laugh, you still make me cry, you still make me want to smack you upside your silly little bratty heads.

If all the world was a beach, I would love you more than all the grains of sand added together. Times infinity.

Sunday, December 16, 2018

'Tis the season to be...something.

The holidays are hard for some of us.
Some suffer SAD (Seasonal Affective Disorder). For some their regular depression is intensified. Some introverts are already having anxiety attacks at the thought of peopling, whether with co-workers or family.
Some just can't stand to be around their eggnog-sotted relatives and/or be criticized/ignored/mocked.

I usually start feeling some depression and stress around the holidays mainly because
1. So very poor moneywise
B. Cannot buy gifts
III. Buying gifts is the only time I truly enjoy shopping of any kind, and it truly makes me happy

Besides all that, my last grandparent, my last grandma, passed away right around this time last year. Just barely before Christmas, in fact.
And I'm sure missing her hard right now.

She was in the hospital and managed care the last year or so of her life when she needed 24 hour care and the Alzheimer's got pretty bad.  I feel guilty for not spending more time with her - my only excuse is that I have a little boy (well, I know he's almost 24 but still my little boy) who also requires 24 hour care, and now that I'm old and he's heavier I can't manage him in & out of the van the way I used to.

Still. That doesn't make it easier.
ANYWAY I have drifted entirely away from what this whole post was supposed to be about, which was basically a HI GRANDMA, I'M THINKING OF YOU AND I MISS YOU A REALLY LOT.

I've told a few little stories about my Grandma she would tell me (I am the oldest grandchild) how when I was a baby and my mom & I lived with her & my granddad while my dad was overseas, she would rush home from work to sit and rock me, and she didn't care if anyone else had dinner or clean laundry because WELL I AM ME, AFTER ALL.

When my kids were babies, she did not trust me to do their laundry and would not let me use some 'cheap bargain basement detergent' on those PRESHUS BABIES, so she would send my granddad over twice a week to pick up the dirty laundry & blankets so SHE could wash them in Dreft detergent.
Hey, I had twins, both on oxygen and heart/apnea monitors so I was not going to argue.

In my family, mocking and sarcasm is how we show we care...and we care A LOT.
Like the year at Christmas we told grandma that we had numbered all her stories because she told them SO MANY TIMES at EVERY FAMILY EVENT ... so when she started to tell a story, one of us would shout out something like "ELEVEN!" or "THIRTY-THREE!" and we would all laugh hysterically while grandma said "I DO NOT LIKE YOU CHILDREN. BRATS."

Or the time we were looking at dresses (she was one of those kind of Baptists where they don't dance and the women don't wear pants, only dresses or skirts) and I pointed one out and she said
"But that's an old lady dress."
I said, "Well by definition, ALL your dresses are old lady dresses."
"I hate you. Brat."

Actually grandma wasn't one to dish out sarcasm, but she did love to laugh, even (and sometimes especially) if the joke was on her. She had no ego, and would laugh at the most ridiculous, nonsensical things.
Like her favorite joke, which wasn't even a joke, but one of us would always say it because we knew she would laugh and of COURSE then we would laugh.
"What did the bee say to the flower? I'm GONNA STING YOU."

Not even a joke, right? But always a guaranteed laugh from grandma.
And my uncle, king of sarcasm (and sort of mean, and often an asshole, but hey family) would say,
"Hey mom, come stand over here and let me take a group picture of you,"
which was TOTALLY dickish and rude but grandma laughed and laughed, because let's be honest, she was the closest thing to Mrs. Claus you'd ever see. Very short and VERY round and cute as a fuckin' button.
She loved telling that story too, and laughed every time.

If you're of A Certain Age, you've seen all the Brady Bunch episodes a fafillion times and you remember Jan & Aunt Jenny...wherein Jan finds an old photo of 'herself' that turns out is actually Imogene Coca in disguise as Aunt Jenny and OF COURSE Jan is a shallow little spoiled beyotch and doesn't want to be 'ugly' like Aunt Jenny even though Jenny is like super cool and popular.

So (TRUE STORY) when I was a teenager I found an old picture of 'myself' at around 5 years old that I later found out was actually MY GRANDMA, so naturally (me being me) at the next available opportunity I showed the photo to grandma and said SAY, HOW OLD WAS I IN THIS PICTURE? and of course she said it wasn't ME, it was HER...and I figure you can guess what happened next.
I pretended to cry and wailed DOES THIS MEAN I HAVE TO LOOK LIKE YOU WHEN I GET OLD??
"I hate you. Brat."
She said that to me a lot.
I have no idea why. Probably she loved me the best but didn't want anyone else to know and be jealous.

Her funeral was particularly hard for me, because it's one of the first funerals I've ever attended that I actually (sort of) wanted to get up and say something - but I was frozen in place and couldn't. Also I cannot possibly be trusted not to say something completely inappropriate because that's what I do.
I did manage to do the one thing I usually avoid at all costs because I feel it's a horrible, traumatic tradition...walking past the open casket at the end of the service.

But I wanted to say goodbye to my last little grandma, with her blue eyeshadow and pink lipstick and Estee Lauder Youth Dew scent.

I stopped to look, and remember, and when I whispered, "Hey grandma, remember that time you ruined Christmas when you died?" it was no surprise that I heard her laughter in my ear.
I'm pretty sure it was followed up with "I hate you. Brat."

Related image

Saturday, December 01, 2018

Let's all pretend to be Iceland this year. #BestIdeaEVER

I mean really, just scroll down the last few posts and they're mostly all book reviews - books I got for FREE!
Those of you who've been to my house and have seen the 9 crammed-full overflowing bookshelves realize how exciting this is for me. Don't even ask how many books (read and unread) are on my kindle. And iBooks. And audible audio books. SHUT UP.
The books, they make me happy.


In fact, here's a new review for a BRAND NEW SERIES (wooooohoooo!) by one of my beloved favorite authors, Taylor Stevens.
You'll probably recognize her name because I've reviewed several of her books in the Vanessa Michael Munroe series - so natch I was very excited to *UNEXPECTEDLY* receive an ARC of this new Jack & Jill series.

This is not a 5th grade book report, so don't expect all the delicious details of the book here.
For that you must GO BUY THE BOOK AND READ IT.  (You really should pre-order yours right this minute. Order a couple for your friends. I'll wait.)

So let me say this: If you go into this expecting something like Vanessa Michael Munroe, you're going to be disappointed, so you need to lay that aside right now. Pretend this is a debut novel (which it kind of is, series-wise) and go from there.

The book is all action from the jump - it's like opening your front door and stepping into a tornado.

I like that. I like it A LOT.

Also? To be honest I did not find most of the main characters to be likeable in the most generic sense of the word. (Likable? Why do I never know how to spell that word? IT LOOKS WEIRD)
Fortunately that's not a deal-breaker for me, as long as the characters are interesting and intriguing and engaging, which these certainly were, with bright flashes of snark and humor here and there.
Like that TV show Scandal - by season 4 the only people I cared about were the assassins and I was all on their side. This was sort of like that.

This family...kind of like Spy Kids. Grown-up Spy Kids on crack in Bizarroworld. I mean that in the best possible way. Sibling rivalry, paranoia, and frayed but unbreakable family ties are taken to a whoooole other level.
Plus single mom with boy/girl twins? THIS IS MY ACTUAL FOR REALS LIFE. #TrueStory
Now I feel like I've failed my kids in some way by not teaching them spycraft. Or learning it for myself, which would be awesome. Seriously I can always tell when I've been watching & reading too many thrillers because I find myself constantly checking for a 'tail' whenever I leave the house because YOU KNOW I AM SO IMPORTANT PEOPLE NEED TO KNOW WHAT I AM UP  TO. #NotActuallyTrueAboutBeingImportant

The characters, their lives, their history  - all fleshed out in little nibbles throughout each chapter.
If you're one of those people who just feels like they MUST figure out all the twists and WHODUNIT and the end game long before you get to the end...JUST. STOP IT.
Seriously. Put it away and read on.
There are hints and teases and bite-size clues...just let the story carry you along.

By the time I got to the end, I was dazed in the best kind of way, AND I'd found a character I really liked in the good way. The ending is something that so many *series* authors have trouble writing to my personal satisfaction; often it's either too much of a cliffhanger or you don't know where they can take the storyline into the next book or there are too many loose ends left dangling.
HOWEVER, Taylor has mastered this art by leaving the ending open enough to give a glimpse into where the next book might go while also managing to tie up the majority of loose ends and leaving just enough cliffhanger to be mysteriously exciting but not frustrating as though the book were missing the final 2 chapters or something.

So, long story short (TOO LATE!) - pre-order the book. It will be released on DECEMBER 18 so get your order in NOW. Kindle, paper, audio - one for you and one for a friend because HELLO CHRISTMAS!
Spread the book love. Let's be Iceland together.

**stuff I have to disclose: YES I was given a free ARC copy (that was totes unexpected, THANK YOU SO MUCH KENSINGTON BOOKS!! YOU ARE MY FAVORITE!). NO I was not told I had to actually write a review NOR was I told what any such review needed to say.

Friday, November 23, 2018

May all your wishbone wishes come true

November is really the busiest month of the year, full of all the things - Movember, NaNoWriMo, Black Friday, Cyber Monday, and that one thing... what is it...with the food and family and such. TurkeyEatin' Day. Also known as yesterday.

And everyone saying the things they're thankful for.

Those people stopped asking me to post what I was thankful for when I wrote
"Today I'm thankful that I wasn't forced to stab anyone" and "I'm thankful Mr/Ms X lives over a thousand miles away so I don't have to actually visit but I can totally yet insincerely say GEE WHIZ I WISH I COULD BE THERE by text or email" and "I'm thankful my kid is old enough to go into the liquor store so I don't have to get out of the car."

I wrote this several years ago but during these troubled, divisive, frightening times, I thought I would repost so that *I* can remember to keep this in my heart and mind.

On being full of thankful.

A few days ago someone posted, "What are you thankful for this week?"
and my first thought was...nothing special.


What I mean is, there was nothing different about my level of thankfulness.
Every single morning that I open my eyes, I am thankful.
For the sunshine or the rain.
For my kids.
For coffee.
For family and friends, and the love and support they give so generously.
For love and forgiveness.
For the kindness of strangers.
For the food in our bellies.
For the roof over our heads.
For having a vehicle to drive.
For central heat and air.
For the ability to still be able to take care of my son, despite the back pain and arthritis.
For my daughter's job.
For the ability to work for myself, on my own schedule, and mostly at home to be with my boy.
For an income that, while tiny, is still enough to cover the bills.
In short, every day I am thankful for all that I have, all I've been given, all I am blessed with.

So yeah, I'm glad everyone is thinking of things they're thankful for on this special day...but for me I'm thankful for nothing special...just everything.

Tuesday, October 30, 2018

I got to read it before you so HAHA IN YOUR FACE.

Or a title that's something somewhat politer. (IT MIGHT BE A WORD, YOU DON'T KNOW FOR SURE)
If I don't start actively blogging again, this is going to become strictly a review blog!
Not that there's anything wrong with that, especially when it means FREE BOOKS FOR ME and also ADVANCE COPIES which make me special. Shut it.

**Disclaimery thing: YES I was given *my precious* ARC for no charge. NO I was not given any suggestions or instructions on what to write or even to give a review at all. I VOLUNTEERED AS TRIBUTE. #TrueStory.
Also if you're new to Me then you need to know this: I WRITE WHAT I WANT and I SAY WHAT I SAY.

A reminder: I review what I thought of the book as a whole. This ain't a book report - if you want the deets then may I suggest YOU GO BUY IT AND READ IT YOURSELF.
No, really. I mean it. You can thank me later - - and you will.

I like my good guys a little dirty, my bad guys a little redeemable, and homespun justice served up one way or another to the Really Evil.

This novel does not disappoint.

Tear It Down is the 4th in a series of  Peter Ash novels - and I must say it's my FAVORITE TO DATE.
Two strong story arcs converge with Peter at the crux, keeping things exciting and action packed.
I think Peter has to be one of my top favorite characters because he's interesting, bedeviled, troubled, quirky... he has issues, he's a little mean and a lot clever, and he's a total badass and will MESS YOU UP.
In other words, I can relate.  Except I'm a lot mean and a little clever but that's a whole other blog post.

Typically I don't like character comparisons - I read blurbs on books from unknown (to me) authors like, "THE NEXT MITCH RAPP!" or "WANT MORE KAY SCARPETTA? You'll love SusieSchmoosie!"
JUST NO. (Unless of course *I* am the one making the comparison because I KNOW WHAT I KNOW)

Invariably I am disappointed because I decide to give one of those a try and then I'm halfway through and getting pissed and yelling at my kindle OMG IT IS NOTHING LIKE JACK RYAN/EVE DALLAS/LUCAS DAVENPORT! SHUT UP! YOU'RE STUPID! and then I'm disappointed and also mad that I spent $1.99 on Amazon because the book wasn't at my online library.
But even Lee Child himself has compared Peter Ash to his own (and my beloved) Jack Reacher.
And I would agree - a little. In the timeless words of Mr. Miyagi:

They're both pretty freaking awesome, I'll say that. Jack and Peter, I mean.
Also the authors Lee and Nick. Pretty freaking awesome.

The supporting characters here are strong and also relatable - I love the recurring ones because I want to be BFFs with them too. There is no lack of personality in any of the characters, and one of my favorite things about author Nick Petrie's writing is his ability to describe the people- and more importantly, the action - so well that I can see a scene playing out in my mind effortlessly.  He's able to do it simply, without becoming overly-adjectived and wordy, which is good because that sort of thing ends up being a distraction for me rather than encouraging a smooth flow.
There's a long car chase that was as real in my head as if I were watching it happen on The TeeVee but I don't want to say too much. #NoSpoilers

I like that Nick adds the barest flavor of romance without hearts and flowers but still conveys the feelings and commitment.
I like that the writing and plotlines are engaging and make me want to read JUST. ONE. MORE. CHAPTER and I don't care that it's 3am and I have to get up in two hours.
I especially like that Nick Petrie is accessible to his fans - that always wins so many bonus points with me.

One of my favorite quotes from this book: "The sun never shone so brightly as when somebody was trying to kill you."
I would agree with that. Theoretically.

IN SUMMARY: I highly recommend that you go PRE-ORDER your copy of TEAR IT DOWN now. It will be released January 15th, which gives you plenty of time to read the other three in the series, starting with The Drifter.
Get one for yourself and one for a friend. Don't be so selfish.

(OH and PS: Do yourself a favor and look up ankylosaurus before you start reading, otherwise you will be holding your finger down on the word trying to bring up the definition because you forgot you're reading an actual book instead of kindle and it doesn't work that way. Plus also when you get to *ankylosaurus* you'll be all I'M SO SMART I KNOW WHAT THAT IS.

Tuesday, September 18, 2018


Y'all know how much I love getting ARCs (that's Advance Review Copy for those not in the know) because it makes me feel all special and superior to those of you who just don't have what it takes.
Okay, that last part may be a bit of an exaggeration...but I do loves me some book galleys.


This author, Diane Chamberlain, was new to me so I had no expectations going in.
(OH I FORGOT: This book was given to me free by SheSpeaks to review - and if you know me even a little bit I don't have to remind you that MY WORDS ARE MY OWN and I SAY WHAT I WANT)

 The Dream Daughter: A Novel by [Chamberlain, Diane]

This isn't a book report and I don't want to accidentally post any spoilers, but I want to say this:

1. I recommend this book so so so much. It'll be out in October but I would encourage you to pre-order a copy.

2. A lot of you know my kids' story, born at 24 weeks and the issues and health problems and hospital stays and near death days and nights...this book wasn't exactly that but I will say that a LOT of my emotional triggers were touched and I actually read through tears several times and I was completely emotionally invested in the characters.

3. It's not what you think it's going to be when you pick it up to start reading.

4. It reminded me of the feeling I had so many times, that I would do absolutely ANYTHING to save my children, to make them better, to spare them what they had to endure.

5. The penultimate chapter was a bit abrupt for me, but the ending was definitely satisfactory (for those of you - I KNOW WHO YOU ARE AND I SEE YOU - who skip to the end first and PS I WILL CUT YOU FOR THAT SOMEDAY BECAUSE NO.).

Go order yours. Or head over to SheSpeaks and enter the giveaway contest! #WINNING!
When it comes to books, you know I'd never steer you wrong.