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junkpoetic · 3 years

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We are writing a novel as we go. This is in the moment unedited. It’s probably a horrible a idea but why not? This is a story of friendship and the ties that bind Elliot and Paulie. Let’s have fun creating something in the moment.

Cheers. -K.P.

Swimming Into View by K.P. DeLaney

One.

Paul Buchanan.

The peculiar thing about time is that you think you have it until you don’t. This was especially true for Elliot Knox, who now in his late forties, still hasn’t accomplished most of his goals in life. Sure, he went to college, but he never graduated. He dropped out to work at a party supply store before moving away from the northeast to North Carolina to work at another party supply store before realizing he in fact had no money and no future in Carolina. He moved back home and went back to community college before dropping out again. The wave of life carried him along through his twenties and he okay despite what he would tell you. If Elliot were telling this story, it would be heavily self-deprecated and depressing, so I am not going to let him do that for the sake of the story.

Elliot began running at quite a young age. It’s foggy when he actually began taking it seriously, however it’s safe to say it was sometime during adolescence. He was never the fastest but kept a pretty good pace and won a few events for the South Hinder Lions, his high school track team. He kept running right on through his twenties, but on and off cigarettes, and a healthy drinking habit kept him out of shape. He would go months without running until something happened to trigger a startup. Triggers included breaking up with Louise, which he did several times in his early twenties, much less in his later twenties until he married her months before his thirtieth birthday. Other triggers included one-night stands during the days he and Louise were not together. Also, nights when the alcohol took over and he felt incredibly awful… running always made the awful better. If not for Louise, I am not sure if Elliot would have made it out of his twenties. In fact, I am sure of it because I saved his life. It’s the only reason he agreed to let me document his marathon but let’s not get ahead of ourselves.

Every year, for probably last fifteen or so, the two of us took a trip to Boston and spent a week fucking around. It was the one week a year we would become unhinged. We had pact. What happens, happens and that was the end of it. No matter what, never spoken of again. The early years we dubbed “The Larry Bird Years” because well, Larry Bird was a fucking problem, and the city was electric. We happened to be there June 7th, 1986 when Bird posted a triple double and shot down the Rockets giving the Celtics their sixteenth title. We weren’t at the game, but we were at a pub on Causeway Street doing shots of tequila with women we hardly knew. The game wasn’t even close, but Madeline and Carol were… the devil is in the details and hopefully by the time Louise reads this it’ll folklore. I had never seen Elliot unhinged. He’d never tell me, but I am pretty sure it was the first night he ever tried cocaine. See Madeline’s nickname was MadeLines. I still can’t get him to admit it, but he would never deny it either. He kept in touch with her every year when we returned, but the trips sobered as we grew older. When we were younger, we’d a share a hotel room. Now we like our own space but let’s not get too far ahead of ourselves.

I became a writer while Elliot was fucking off his twenties. I am novelist still trying write a best seller. In the meantime, I do freelance work. I am happily married to the same Carol that we met years ago the night the Celtics took the title with two children of our own. Elliot is my daughter’s godfather. Life is comfortable and completely okay. The trip to Boston is probably the most exciting week out of my year nowadays and I am okay with that. I don’t want to digress; this is Elliot’s story.

Somewhere amid the blur that was last year’s trip, Elliot and I had a conversation about how we used to be and how we are no longer the same men that were years ago. Time and evolution have eroded us into shells of what we once were. To me that’s life and I don’t have a problem with it. I am okay with being a forty-seven-year-old fading into obscurity. But Elliot wasn’t. He grew upset with himself that he no longer could stay out all night. He no longer could eat the foods he used to it. His libido had diminished… well not his, but Louise’s. His belly flab had gotten out of control, and he hadn’t run a mile in at least six years. So, after a few drinks, he came up with the crazy idea that he would run the Boston Marathon. I called this idea bullshit, and ridiculous but here we are.

The thing about Elliot is he doesn’t ever take the time to master something. Sure, I believe if he really wanted to run a marathon he could. If he changed his diet and trained properly, why not? Elliot’s year of training consisted of zero training. He maintained the same diet and drank. He even snuck a cigarette here and there when Louise wasn’t home, or out behind his garage when she was home. Even the days before the marathon, he turned back time. He vowed to stay out late like we used to. I tried to keep up but sleep beckoned. He reconnected with Madeline who never really opened up about her personal life. She had an indent of where a wedding ring would go, otherwise the only jewelry she wore was a gold crucifix around her neck that hovered just above the small amount cleavage she revealed. He could not help her attraction to her. She was so magnetic, and he was a paper clip. Elliot kept her mostly to himself. They’d meet up after I would call it a night. She’d meet us for brunch usually once every trip and Elliot made it sound like they were only friends. He played it off like they hadn’t spoken other than when they’d reconnect on our trips, but I am not an idiot.

We arrived in Boston on October 6th, four days before the race. Elliot bought a pair of red Asics from a local sporting goods store then ran seven miles the first day and three miles on the second day. He rested on the third day and by rested, I mean that he ate pizza, drank Sam Adams, and fucked Madeline once before bed, once around three in the morning, and once more in the morning. Thankfully he refrained from smoking as far as I know. I had to shake my head when I heard her leaving his room about an hour before he had to report.

The deal was that he finished the race, it did not matter how long it took him. I wired him so he could talk to me throughout the duration. That’s how I took my notes and then afterward we would sit down and go over my notes and he could add to them. For me, I wanted it to be Elliot’s story. His brain. His journey. I am just the vehicle putting the ink on paper. I spoke with Carol briefly before meeting Elliot for eggs and toast and then I proceeded to set up my computer at a Starbucks a block from the finish line.

The thing I admire about Elliot is his willingness. He simply believes things into reality. I do find it hard to believe that you can just get up and run a marathon. But he believes it and that’s really all the training he needed. To be honest I think he got the idea when he saw a feel-good story about a dog that followed its owner running a marathon and finished. He figured one mile was no different than twenty-six point two and if a dog could do it, he could too. He figured seven hours of sleep and two jugs of Pedialyte, and a light breakfast would suffice…

I mentioned before that I saved his life. I think since then he’s always felt like he owes me for that. He has always tried to help me come up with the perfect story to write and become published because he’s known that has been my dream since we were kids in English class. He hated English class, so naturally I let him copy my notes and helped him cheat on tests when I could. That’s what friends do… whatever it takes. I have a small suspicion that he is running the race in attempt to give me a good story. I think a small part of him wants to prove to himself that he can do it but if he truly wanted to do it for himself, I think he would have trained at least in the slightest.

It was a warm October morning. Much too warm for October, but probably perfect for running a marathon. Once I booted up my computer, I put my headphones and suddenly could hear the rustling of the microphone against the inside of Elliot’s shirt. His breathing was calm. We ran a microphone check and then it was all systems go.

“Can you hear me E?”

“Roger that, Paulie.”

“You sure you want to do this pal?”

“Born to run baby.” He laughed.

“Alright, I am going silent. We’re recording now, anything you say can and will be used against you.” I teased and pressed record.

“Remember when we beat that school from Syracuse for the state title?”

I kept my promise of silence.

“We’re going to do it again today Paulie.” He continued.

He proceeded to laugh and clapped his hands together twice in order to hype himself up.

“You remember the night you lost your virginity Paulie? The whole town caught wind of it within the hour… only victories today.”

I laughed although I am incredibly nervous for what he is about to put his body through. Why I am I the one who has the anxiety?

Elliot Knox

“Jesus, it’s a fucking ocean of bodies, I can hardly jog without stepping on someone else’s rubber soles. Remember that scene in Titanic when the boat just sank, and it was arms and legs flailing on top of one another? I think that’s what this is like only on land of course. I think I already have to take a piss. Way too much Pedialyte. Fuck. You remember that day we pissed ourselves to get out of school? Epic idea on your part. I remember I was sitting next to Alice Templeton. I think she may have had a crush on me, until that moment of course. Was that the same day Mikey Porter got beat up? I wish you would answer me… I can literally hear the room you’re in. Dishes clanking, fuck, I really have to pee.”

.73 miles- Stops off to urinate in neighborhood shrubbery.

“Ahhhh. Much better.”

“Jesus E, you haven’t even gone a mile.” Paulie laughed.

“I thought you were radio silent?”

“I’ll make exceptions.”

“Hey if you put music for me on will it fuck up communication?”

“Probably.”

“Well, that sucks.”

He shook his dick in the shrubbery before putting it back in his shorts and resumed running.

“Smooth sailing now Paulie.” An empty bladder took care of a lot of things. Not to mention a lot of runners passed him while he was stopped so he had much more room to run. Much more room to breathe. Space is an incredible thing.

He talked about how fresh his legs felt. That first mile was the most important one to him. Sometimes you run and it’s really evident that you’re running. And then sometimes you run, and the feeling is weightless, which of course, is why you run in the first place. That fresh feeling is something he was able to maintain. He was always the same through the years. No matter what age we were, he was the same. Like your old childhood bedroom… it never changes. No matter, it will always smell like you. It will always your room. Time goes on yet the room stays a tattoo in time. The fingerprints on the walls. The dents in the sheetrock. The accidental paint splatter from when the steady hand slipped onto the ceiling. Even the dust remained the same. I think about the things that have happened in my world since I left my childhood bedroom. That room still sits patiently holding everything that made me. It’s comforting and sad simultaneously the way things never stop moving.

1.34 miles- Sneezes twice. Stops and looks at the road behind him.

“I am feeling strong Paulie. You still doubting me?” Elliot teased.

“You still have almost twenty-five miles to go.” Paulie could not help but join the banter.

“Don’t do that. Just like last night when you commented on my fourth Sam Adams. It’s very poor taste.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Hard to watch my friend drink a brewery before running a marathon.”

“You’ve always looked out for me man. I appreciate you.”

“Let’s not get mushy; long road ahead.”

“Ten four, roger that, rubber ducky.”

“Asshole, save breath for words that actually matter.”

“By the way, has the Sox game started?”

“Almost… you really going to bet on it while running a marathon?”

“I need something man.” He laughed. “They play Toronto?”

“Yeah, the Blue Jays are favored.”

“Put a hundred on the Sox for me. No way they lose today.”

Paulie laughed and then made a phone call and placed the bet for Elliot.

He began humming a song because the silence and the sound of his footsteps slapping the against the pavement became so monotonous. I had a hard time deciphering the song at first and then it clicked that it was Fleetwood Mac’s Go Your Own Way. Around noon I packed up my things and made way for a bar. I wanted be able to watch the game while talking to Elliot.

2.3 miles – first sign of cramping.

“I have to stop for a second Paulie.”

I guffawed “It’s been two miles!”

“Relax. I got this.”

I would be remiss if I didn’t acknowledge Elliot’s problems. He emphasized how real he wanted this story to be. He said zero restrictions and that he was okay with me exposing flaw. He was always so interesting in the sense that he accepted his flaws so freely, yet never wanted to put anyone out by asking for help. He was strong to acknowledge flaw, yet too weak to fix them. The way he saw it, we all have flaws and there’s no escaping that. So why not embrace them? He liked to gamble. He drank too much. He loved the art of fucking so much I have to wonder if that was an addiction too. But what’s the point in putting him under a microscope? Life is short. He’s fucking happy. Or at least I think he is. He seems like he just to wants to live until he dies. It’s really quite refreshing seeing him in the wild. These annual trips to Boston are just that. Wild. He is running the God damn Boston Marathon on zero training just for the fuck of it. As I am writing this I am realizing what I love most about my friend. He does what he wants and celebrates every day that he is alive. That perspective is incredibly dangerous for orthodox living, and I completely envy it. Every year, the moment the wheels hit the freeway, he comes undone, and we are seventeen again. And I fucking adore everything about that.

#novel literature

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light-sins · 7 years

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SeptiplierWeek (Day 6)

Remember when I said I wouldn’t write more ? Yeah, I lied. I couldn’t help it. All of the days combine to make one story.

Characters : Markiplier + Suicidal!Jacksepticeye Prompt : High School Event hosted by : @septiplierweek Chapters : [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [x]

“Sean ? Sean, are you listening ?” A voice snapped him back to reality, and he lazily opened his eyes, turning to the therapist in front of him. “Yeah, sorry, I ah…zoned out there for a Sec” he yawned, stretching. The tiny Box Tim plush sat comfortably on his lap, smiling as always. She sighed, but offered him a gentle smile. “It’s alright, Sean. Let’s just focus on something else for now” she leafed through the booklet. Honestly, she was very happy with the progress he had displayed. Perhaps in a few months, he could even start working again. But the heavy bandage around his neck made her hesitate. Maybe. She just left it as maybe.

“You said you had another persona, called ‘Jack’, right ?” She looked at him, watching as he nodded, smiling. “Yeah, was a high school thing” he told her, stretching. “Well, maybe you could tell me about then ? How was high school like ?” She inquired. He was about to continue when Mark came in, twenty minutes late. “Sorry, sorry, did I interrupt ?” He asked, turning to look at the two of them, who had changed their attention to him. His face flushed pink, starting to list out a pile of excuses like traffic and work, but she just smiled and waved him to sit down beside Sean.

Originally, she had been Counselling him alone, but found that being around Mark helped Sean open up a lot quicker and smoother. If there were tears, Mark could comfort him and soothe him. If Sean felt bad, guilty or hesitant, he was the one who slowly coaxed him. She had insisted that it was time that perhaps Mark could take care of Sean on his own instead, but she could see the hesitation and worry in himself. “What if i fail him again ?” He had told her. “What if I can’t choose what’s right for him ?” And with that, their sessions continued.

“So, uh, what’re we doing ?” Mark asked, still a little embarrassed from his sudden yell when he burst in. “We we’re going to talk about high school” she informs. “Mostly about this ‘Jack’ persona” she adds, preparing a pen in case she needed to take notes on their behaviour. It was always heartwarming to see how their love worked, despite the problems they both had. Then again, all relationships had problems. It was the way they tried to help one another with them that made her so happy to see them every week.

“Well, why don’t we get started !”

High school was a time that wasn’t too hard for either of the two boys. Or, that’s what it initially appeared as at least. Other than the acne, and the occasional problems with trying to fit in and the ‘girls and guys’ kinda thing, it was pretty normal, only… it was hard for Sean to stay ‘normal’. And, the fact that his name wasn’t Sean during then. His name was Jack, and he was so much more different than he was as an adult. Teenage Jack was called a lot of things by his friends. Mostly cause he only had one. Jackadork and jackaboy were his favourites during then. Mark had a tendency to just call him 'Jack’ though.

“Hey ! Mark !” His voice practically boomed through the room, and his accent was still fresh in his voice. He still wasn’t so used to a new country yet, but he was making good progress! “Hey !” Mark responded the call with a high five, exchanging a complicated hand greeting they had made up at the end of last year. “Ready for tonight ?” Jack couldn’t hold the excitement off his voice, practically jumping in his spot, making the other laugh. “Of course I am ! Are you nervous ?” He teased the Irishboy, grinning. “Of course I am ! It’s our first time streaming on twitch, who wouldn’t be nervous ?”

“It’ll be just like we practiced !” Mark assured with a smile, slapping his shoulder. “Oh yeah, sure. I Guess I should trip over my computer wire again ?” Jack joked lightly, smiling back. “Maybe this time your content would actually make someone laugh” he responded with one of his own, filling the small room with laughter.

It was Jacks birthday that night and they had wanted to celebrate with a full game fest online, and figured it would be fun to stream it too ! Their growing channel was slowly speeding up to a hundred thousand people and it was getting more and more fun by the day. So many happy comments and viewers who cheered them on. It was always so heartwarming to see, and he loved to read the comments with Mark. Well, he loved spending time with Mark in general. And honestly… he was a little confused on how he felt.

It was weird, actually. He felt so nervous when he was around and he couldn’t help himself but want to be even closer. He loved how he laughed and how much he smiled and the way his jokes, no matter how self-deprecating, always made him laugh and never made him hurt, because he knew Mark never meant them. It was fun and they loved making those jokes, even if they were crude.

But being around him also roused a lot of questions about himself. Jack wasn’t actually ever sure if…if he liked girls. Of course, he never discriminated being friends but… the idea of kissing another girl, no matter how beautiful he imagined her, never appealed to him. He got anxious as the days gone by. Why was he like that ? Was there something else wrong with him ? He started panicking and started getting worse and worse. But of course nobody could ever tell.

After school, Jack and Mark bought arm-fulls of snacks. Cookies, chips, sodas. Anything fat and tasty. They had even bought lots of coffee for the drink lover to enjoy. Plus, it’d make sure he stayed awake. And after a few hours of setting up at Marks home, by the declared time, they were ready. They turned on their web cams, tested their mics and their headphones were on, grinning as they sat beside each other, Mark on his computer, and Jack on his laptop.

It was a little slow as it began, but neither really cared. They had fun, playing horror games, some fun multiplayer and made jokes about some really bad romance novel games, and the night just kept going with around a few hundred watchers. There had been no mention of his birthday either, because Jack was the type that never really liked himself to be publicised or anything. He liked to keep to his friends who could say those words to him, and they’d always mean so much more than the small texts that appeared. But…nobody had wished him birthday yet. It made him a little sad, but, he knew his friends still cared. He just wished they would call soon…

Halfway through, Mark mentioned he was going to take a piss. “Yeah, not subtle at all” Jack rolled his eyes, continuing the game, occasionally checking the twitch chat. Everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves at the stupid comment Mark made at least. A lot of people were just chatting and watching and making random comments. A few minutes later, he heard Mark yell for him to help him with something.

“What ? Ya want me to help hold yer dick while ya piss ?” He got up, pausing the game as he did. He was halfway through the room when Mark came in, holding onto a sleek, expensive black video camera. The name Jack was engraved beautifully at the side and on top sat the most dainty green bow he could’ve possibly found. “Thought I forgot ?” Mark’s smile seemed to glow, giddy with his own form of excitement and relief at how stunned Jack was. “What kind of Friend would I be if I didn’t remember your birthday ?”

The chat exploded with exclamation marks and 'Happy birthdays!’, before there was the click that signalled someone had used a word that triggered their sound effects. “Happy birthday, Jackaboy !” He heard Singes voice came through, followed by Amy, Ethan, Felix, Marzia, Tyler, Bob and Wades. Everyone he had called a Friend wished him a happy birthday and when one clip ended, a new random one would play. Jack felt his cheeks flush red, staring at the computer in stunned silence. They hadn’t forgot…did… did Mark plan this ?

He turned to Mark again with a playful anger to ask the same question, but that golden smile silenced him again, the camera pressed into Jacks hands. And throughout all the noise in the room, filled with voices of the people he cared about, Marks voice was the loudest.

“Happy Birthday, Jack”

“I don’t want to go home…” Jack muttered, leaning against the couch in Marks home. It was the end of the short school holiday and he dreaded returning home. He didn’t want to, for more reasons than just to have more company with Mark. He was…afraid of going there. He didn’t want to hear his foster parents scream his name, and he didn’t want to bear the harshness of his dad. He instinctively rubbed his arm, hidden away under the sleeve of his shirt.

“Me neither, but…y'know, everyone has to go home sometime” Mark smiled at him, patting his shoulder. Of course, he could never understand Jacks fear of his own house. It was something he thought was personal and he didn’t think it was anything as bad as it actually was. He had met Jacks Mother and Father once or twice and thought they were kind people. But, under closed doors, they were from another world.

Jack didn’t reply for a while, silent and holding onto the crumpled pieces of paper they had been working on for a while. Blue prints, or really just shitty designs for two character plushies, but he just kept staring at it. “…I don’t want to go home…” he repeated, quieter this time. Mark turned to look at him with a small smile but before he could convince Jack again, he noticed the silent tears drop onto the piece of paper, staining it. That was when he noticed something was wrong.

“Jack..?” He gently nudged him, putting his hand on his arm. He got even more worried when he flinched, tensing up. Something was horribly wrong. “Why don’t you want to go home ?” He finally asked. The answers that followed took hours to get, and the next few weeks felt like months. Nothing felt right anymore. Everything suddenly became clear to him. Why Jack seemed to always flinch when someone yelled, why the first few times he met him, he seemed to take a step back when offered a high five. How did he never notice ?

The next few weeks, was filled with careful planning. Mark stored Jacks clothes and all in his house, along with belongings like pictures and anything he needed. Only necessities and personal valuables. And throughout those weeks, he found out why Jack had always been so secretive with his money and owned so little. The computer had been something Jack worked months to buy, because it was his only happiness in his stressed household. And a phone, nothing else. Most of his clothes were thrown to Jack from his deceased older Brother, who had been a biological child.

The easy part was getting Jack into Marks house. The hard part was getting proof. Jack had to alternate into his own home, filled with dread and fear each day to record how his family was like, and each video clip made Mark sick to the core. How could he had lived like this for so many years, he would never know.

School was hard now too. Mark and Jack had to pretend everything was okay and find a teacher to help. Eventually, they found a teacher they thought could trust, a woman who was a counsellor in school. They told her about the abuse and she seemed to agree to help. So they relaxed a little and schooling continued and each day got a little more hopeful.

Until… Jack didn’t come to school. The entire day, Mark was anxious and fidgeting and chewing on his nails. He had never missed a day before, and with his parents background… Mark was anxious. But Jack had told that if this ever happened, he’d text him, and he’d know if he was okay. So during recess, he escaped to a safer place and checked his phone with shaky hands, finding a message from Jack to fuel his relief. But the text that had been sent only paralysed him from the inside out.

“Help me”

Mark held onto Jacks hand, trying to give him the strength he so badly needed. His blue eyes were dimmed in fear, watching the court speak. His parents were both bound, heavy with charges and they displayed the videos Jack had so carefully and secretly recorded. He could feel the weak teen tense and whimper, and he didn’t hesitate to pull him into his arms, hugging and patting him to calm him down.

“Don’t listen to it…” Mark whispered to him, covering his ears, holding him close. “You’ll be okay…you won’t have to live with them anymore…” he murmured. He could see his own friends casting worried looks to Jack. No one had suspected something like this to be happening in Jacks life. No one had ever thought it could be possible with how cheerful and excited he always was. He always looked like he was…happy. Not the crying, trembling man they all saw now.

This was not the Jack that they knew.

“It’s been three days, are you sure ?” Mark asked, resting a hand on Jacks shoulder. “I’m sure. I don’t want this…brand anymore. I don’t want to be 'Jack’ anymore” he muttered, holding onto him, as if to ask for support. “I know, bud, and I support you. It’s your name and…if you really want to, then…” he passed him the legal documents. “Make sure you choose a name you love, alright ?” Mark smiled, letting go of him, waiting outside as Jack left the room, because he knew when he came back, Jack would cease to exist. Because Jack was a dead name, something that had been manifested to be the happy, cheerful screaming Irishman. The man that suffered abuse and never spoke out. Jack was an old mask, and it was time to throw that away.

When he came back, he seemed to have had a load lifted off his shoulders, and he wasn’t Jack anymore. Jack was gone, and Sean had come back. And Mark knew, Jack or Sean, everyone would love him just the same.

#Septiplier #SeptiplierWeek #fanfiction #Long post #writing #fluff #agnst #Day6 #suicidal!jacksepticeye #Jacksepticeye #Markiplier

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themomsandthecity · 6 years

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I Checked Off a Huge Bucket List Item With 2 Young Kids in Tow, Because Why Not?

I try to live life without regrets. I like to think I do a pretty good job at that when it comes to parenting and being a wife, but when it comes to doing things for myself, I'm severely lacking. When I kept finding myself having regret over the same thing multiple times, that's when I finally said to myself, "Life is too short! Enough is enough!" So, after many missed opportunities to check something off the top of my bucket list, I finally took the plunge and did it with both of my young kids in tow. Now that I've done it, I encourage all moms to throw away all the reasons why they shouldn't do something and instead focus on all the reasons why they should. It may sound silly as a 34-year-old to have an obsession with a musical icon, but I do. I'm a HUGE Kelly Clarkson fan. I've seen her in concert countless times, usually at least twice each time she's on tour. My biggest dream in life (aside from becoming a mom) has been to see her live from the front row. The closest I've come is the fifth row, but that was until a few weeks ago. I was done letting my excuses hold me back, and I packed up my 11-month-old and my 4-year-old, grabbed my mom, splurged on a hotel room, and went to New York City to see her live on the Today show. It was quite the whirlwind, but it was 100 percent worth it. I never jumped on that "YOLO" bandwagon (I feel so weird even saying that phrase) - I was tired, the kids' schedules kept me busy, I couldn't find the time, and so on - so this was the biggest "what the hell" moment I've ever had. And now that I've done it, I encourage all moms to throw away all the reasons why they shouldn't do something and instead focus on all the reasons why they should. My kids' first concert was my favorite singer, someone they've both been listening to since they were in the womb. We made memories, we had meltdowns, but we made it happen. Related: I Check Into a Hotel Twice a Year by Myself, and It's Made Me a Better Mom But let me start at the beginning. Before I was married and had children, I lived about 45 minutes from Manhattan. Every time I'd see that Kelly was scheduled to be in NYC for something, I would dream of dropping everything and hopping on the train to see her. I never did it because I was working, in school, couldn't take time off, etc. I had all of the excuses. And in my current life, I have two young kids and a now over 90-minute commute to Manhattan, so my dream of hopping on a train to see her felt like it was slipping further away. I mean, you have to be in line at Rockefeller Plaza by at least 5 a.m. (some people camp out the night before), and with an almost two-hour trip to get there, that would mean getting myself ready, waking my kids up, and getting out of the house by 3 a.m. Then you have to wait in said line for hours before they even begin to let people into the plaza without a guarantee you'll be anywhere near the stage. THEN, once you're in, the actual concert doesn't begin until 8 a.m. (and lasts until 9 a.m.). Doing this as a young, single person doesn't even sound appealing, but with two kids? Impossible! Or so I thought. So, maybe find a place to stay in the city for the night so the wake-up call comes a little before 5 a.m. instead of 3? But NYC hotels are expensive. And how do you make it around the city with a giant double stroller? Car seats in cabs? Nope. You're probably asking yourself, why not just leave the kids at home? Well, my husband works, my son is still nursing, and it's a lot to ask a babysitter to take care of a preschooler overnight or with a 3 a.m. start time. See what I mean when I say I had all of the excuses? Related: I Tricked My Kids' Grandparents Into Babysitting For an Entire Week - Here's What Happened I don't know what came over me, but I finally said "Screw it!" and asked my mom (who I've turned into a Kelly Clarkson fan) two days before Kelly's scheduled Today show Summer Concert Series appearance if she wanted to go. She looked at me like I was crazy, but had a sly smile that gave me the feeling she wanted to be crazy with me. We decided to splurge on a hotel near Rockefeller and make the most of our trip to NYC. I went to the grocery store and bought any and all snacks for the kids. Then I headed to the Dollar Store and bought new toys, trinkets, books, crayons, markers, stickers, and anything small that would fit into the diaper bag. And as a last resort, because she doesn't get a lot of screen time, I downloaded my daughter's favorite shows on my mom's tablet and grabbed her fun cat-ear headphones. We packed everything we'd need in two backpacks, a big purse, and the diaper bag, threw them all in the double stroller, and headed to the train station. Kelly preformed three songs, and I rocked out to all of them while simultaneously jumping up and down, singing along, holding the baby, and throwing snacks at my daughter. We walked from Grand Central through Rockefeller to our hotel so we could see how long the walk would take in the morning. We checked into the hotel, went swimming in the rooftop pool, had pizza in bed for dinner, decorated a poster to hold up for Kelly, and went to sleep early with our alarm set for 4:30 a.m. When that time came, my mom and I got ourselves ready, gently woke the kids, and headed to our destination with the 4-year-old walking and me wearing the baby. We were lucky to have a family member with a connection at NBC and ended up with VIP tickets, which meant we didn't have to wait in line as long, and we were among the first group let into the plaza. We walked in, and the stage was right in front of us. I couldn't believe it. I thought it was a mistake and at any moment someone would snap, "You can't stand here." But no one did. We set up our spot where we'd reside for the next four hours, resting the diaper bag on the big amplifier in front of the stage, and waited as the crowds piled in. We chatted and made friends with some other concertgoers while my daughter ate cookies for breakfast (because it kept her quiet, and what the hell) and in the sea of people, I discretely nursed the baby. I became a little worried when the whining started less than an hour into our four hours of standing, so I pulled out some silly putty, bubbles, and more snacks, which kept my daughter occupied a little longer. The baby was content to be worn for a while until he wasn't anymore, so I unstrapped him and just held him until . . . wait for it . . . Hoda Kotb came over and asked to hold him! He went to her, they smiled at each other, and she danced with him a little while my mom tried to grab some good pictures. Related: 10 Hotels With Amazing Kid Amenities That Make All the Travel Hassle Worth It Then the big moment came. Kelly came out, and I thought I might lose it. She was RIGHT in front of me. I could see the sparkle of her jewelry; I could see the texture of her hair; I could see the wires from her ear piece. I could have touched her if that wasn't an inappropriate and weird invasion of space. I got a glimpse into her behind-the-scenes routine while she and her band and music manager worked out the kinks during sound check for the live show. She even looked out into the crowd between songs, pointed to my son and said, "Look at that baby!" That's right - Kelly Clarkson was talking about my baby. The fact that my daughter was sitting on the ground pouting and whining about wanting to ride the subway couldn't have bothered me less in that moment. Kelly preformed three songs, and I rocked out to all of them while simultaneously jumping up and down, singing along, holding the baby, throwing snacks at my daughter and picking her up so she could see, too. If she hadn't been woken up before the sun, she probably would have enjoyed herself more as well, but she'll always be able to say her first live concert was in the front row for Kelly Clarkson on the Today show in New York City, and that's pretty cool. My mom and I had an awesome time, and we were both pleasantly surprised at how well both kids held up. It was an amazing experience that would have only been made better if Kelly and I got to chat and she realized we'd be instant best friends like I've always known we would be. But, hey, I need a new dream now anyway, right? http://bit.ly/2KsOPvY

#Personal Essay #Motherhood #Self Care #Kelly Clarkson

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