Three Plus Two

One of my original editors at Babble when I used to blog there (before the site was bought by Disney and turned into a useless collection of bland click bait) recently invited me to submit an essay for her current parenting site Mom.me.  She was looking for a parenting piece with a military theme for Memorial Day.  At the time we were in the middle of watching two kids for a friend of ours who was off doing two weeks of service with the National Guard.  I had started a blog post about it, so I just reworked that into an essay she could use.

If you'd like to read it, the piece is up on Mom.me already.

I've also recorded it for the local radio show Lake Effect for air on Memorial Day.  (I'll post a link when that becomes available.)  UPDATE:  My piece is at the 46:20 mark.

Mom.me was also kind enough to name me among their favorite military parenting bloggers.  It's a list I'm honored to be a part of.

Although, thankfully, my own personal experiences of late have been very dull on the military front and I hope it stays that way.  Ian recently finished his job as a military history teacher for ROTC at Marquette and is now with a unit that specializes in training other units in mechanical jobs, so it's not a group ever likely to get deployed.  Of course, when I ask him to say those words out loud to make me feel better, he can't quite do it.  He says our current situation with wars winding down and the Army weeding people out using things like renewed tattoo restrictions makes the odds of his being sent anywhere very low, but his actual position anywhere has no relation to what he can be asked to do.

It's been interesting looking at my life from a military mom perspective again, however tangential that status may seem now.  I'm amazed how even stressful events can fade given enough time and new distractions.  I was reviewing some of my old posts from during the last deployment and was surprised what I'd forgotten.*  For instance, Mona used to panic every time I dropped Aden off at school.  I had the very clear sense that from her point of view we had dropped her dad off somewhere and he never came back, and reducing her family down further to just her and pregnant me was unacceptable.  She did not let her sister go without a fight every morning.  Until I reread those words on my old blog I had forgotten the intensity of it.  It was a good reminder.

In the News

What a peculiar week.  I learned again that tragedy can strike anywhere, what things matter, and what things don't.

I also learned that when you do a Google search for "violins" and "Milwaukee" apparently I come up first.  Thus I have been asked for quotes on a story that I have no real connection to because all of those directly involved can't speak about it yet.

The first I heard of the news of the stolen Lipinski Strad was from a talk radio reporter who needed to know something about Stradivaris.  He called me at work and gave me no details on what had happened or to whom.  I gave him general information about how fragile violins can be and why instruments by Antonio Stradivari are so valuable.  I didn't know why we were having the conversation, but at least what little of my recorded self I caught on the radio later that day sounded like it added to the discussion in a useful way.

Then I got a call from a local news station asking if they could interview me about it.  By then I'd searched online and discovered more details about the crime and could just not believe it.  I wasn't sure what I'd have to offer a TV interviewer on the topic, but I was willing to share what I could.

Art of Creation

I wrote this essay as I was preparing to launch my first novel.  (Buy my book!)  It aired on our local public radio station the other day, so if you'd like to hear it in my voice, here's the link:

Lake Effect WUWM, Wednesday June 26, 2013

ART OF CREATION  by Korinthia Klein

As far back as I can remember, I always thought it would be exciting to write a book.  I toyed with the idea on and off for years.  It probably would have made more sense to attempt to write fiction for the first time before becoming immersed in child rearing, but the impulse to finally write did not strike me until I was well down that road.

Is there a mother who loves her children who doesn’t live with the fear of losing them?  Especially in the early years the idea of something unspeakable happening to any of my babies often made it hard for me to sleep.  It was too terrible to contemplate but somehow impossible not to.  I wondered about the toll such a loss would take on me, if I would be strong enough to bear it.  But becoming preoccupied with such thoughts felt wrong.  I needed a distraction.