SOLSC 2022 #23 Flowering fun

 

It is March 2022 and time for the

 15th Annual Slice of Life Story Challenge  

Every single day, for all thirty-one days of March,

writers will share stories.

Thank you, Two Writing Teachers, for creating this supportive community 

of teacher-writers!

Ten days later, the gorgeous anniversary flowers were no longer so; in fact, they were sad, droopy, and discarding petal after petal onto the table. They had lasted a good length of time; I decided to get them out to the compost. I laid down newspaper to examine and collect them one by one, thinking - maybe, just maybe, some of them were not wilting? Ah, that was not to be. 

Three year old Frog pulled up a chair to where I was working. 

"Nana, shouldn't we do a flower experiment?"

I looked at her, incredulously, and then remembered seeing a photo of her with her other grandmother, breaking apart remnants of another vase of flowers and exploring. My goodness, of course, we SHOULD do this, shouldn't we? 

One couple's trash is a child's treasure! These tasks are great learning fun.

I found some containers and we began pulling off blossoms, taking care - for a short while, anyway - to have each type of flower in a different container. We were fascinated by the different shapes and sizes of the blossoms. Frog bombarded me with questions - 

What is this part called?

Why are some flowers bigger?

What is this flower?

What is this part that is making a powder mess?

Other than petals, leaves, and stems, the discussion was pretty quickly over my head, so I suggested we research this on the computer. We don't have to be the experts, right? Welcome the questions and figure it out together. I looked up "parts of plant," and we studied the diagrams together; soon Frog was tossing around the words "stamen" and "pistil" with confidence, which had me chuckling. Then she had the idea to mix all the petals into one bowl, making a bed for Thumbelina (we had just read this fairy tale together earlier). That cozy bed led to an art project - I found a piece of card stock and got out the glue; Frog made a floral collage. 

This art still drying at day's end; I'll get it out again next week with her, and see if she wants to add some marker or paint...or glue more flowers...

With grandchildren, chores turn into the most pleasant opportunities!

 

SOLSC 2022 #7 - View from the Window

 

It is March 2022 and time for the

 15th Annual Slice of Life Story Challenge  

Every single day, for all thirty-one days of March,

writers will share stories.

Thank you, Two Writing Teachers, for creating this supportive community 

of teacher-writers!

We've been creating a whimsy tree here at Nana Poppa's house, just outside the window where Frog and Bird's play table rests.  Just last week, we added another windchime - a gift from a great aunt. 

There's a lot going on in this tree, and I suspect we've only just begun. There are a couple bird houses, a couple windchimes, a bright shiny whirligig of a suncatcher that sends rays of light racing through our family room. We set the Halloween pumpkin at the base of the tree and we are watching it decay. Poppa allowed me to drag our Christmas tree out here, to the base of the tree, so that we might watch the birds and squirrels hide and play within. 

I love the view from inside the house. The girls can perch right at windowsill and watch the action.

(staged photo - it's never this calm when Frog & Bird are present! hahaha)

Honestly, this whimsy tree is not just for the grandkids. I get so much delight from this little nook of our yard, too. This morning we have our first 'warm' morning in many months, and I opened the window for a bit of fresh air - only to be met by the gaze of a little bird from inside the birdhouse! 

Her little head filled the hole, 

looked about, 

looked at me, 

popped back inside. 

Then she popped out again 

met my eyes a second time

pulled back in. 

Repeat performance a few more times 

then she flew out

to the top of the tree,

singing

 

and simultaneously - as if choreographed -

one, 

two, 

three, 

four 

mourning doves descended on the tree. 

One perched on a branch very close to where I stared out -

and I was mesmerized

noticing

up close

so much more color and variation beyond the gray I would have insisted on

there's gray tan khaki white brown peach olive black 

I've never noticed how narrow her head

the soft wrinkle of inexplicably short feathers at her neck

as she tilts her head from side to side

intent and wondering, this tilt

Spring is coming! 

Frog and Bird and I will be watching.

SOLSC 2022 #2 - Hide-n-seek

 

It is March 2022 and time for the

 15th Annual Slice of Life Story Challenge  

Every single day, for all thirty-one days of March,

writers will share stories.

Thank you, Two Writing Teachers, for creating this supportive community 

of teacher-writers!

My three year old granddaughter "Frog" and I are on a neighborhood walk, and we stop to visit a nearby garden. Frog suggests a game of hide-n-seek - and the suggestion alone makes me smile.

Usually, I am not game to play hide-n-seek. I find it anxiety-provoking; I fear losing a child. It's one of those weird things that has haunted me for years as an early childhood teacher - the terrifying possibility I will have to explain to a family that I can't find their child. Yes, I know, this fear is exaggerated, misplaced, ridiculous, but isn't this the work of fear?

However, today's particular game of hide-n-seek, just Frog and I, is different. My goodness, what an absolutely delightful idea! 

There's simply no place to hide or be lost in this little garden. It is created in a very small island at the intersection of two quiet streets in my neighborhood. Let me share a photo of the whole place, to give you a little perspective:

As you can see, there's no place to go. At this time of year, especially, there is no place to hide - all the plants are wintering below in the still cold ground. I can see everything clearly, everywhere, all around. 

Hide-n-seek? How will we do this? What does Frog have in mind? How can I not laugh out loud at the possibility of this game?

Let me share the details of how to play hide-n-seek with a three year old magical thinker.

This is what it sounds like: 

(Frog's narration)

Let's play hide and seek in the forest! 

Can you find me?

What do you see, Nana?

Do you see 

red pants

brown hair

pink shoes?

Who could it be?

Now, a new place.

Nana, can you find me?

Where do you think I could be hiding?

How about now?

Just one more place, Nana. 

Can you find me now?

This is what it looks like:

(Frog's hiding places)

This is what it feels like:

(Nana's perspective)

soft 

healing

love

Just one more place, Nana. 

Can you find me now?

I will always find you, dear one.

Always.

 

To bear fruit

Three year old granddaughter Frog was quietly engrossed with my doll collection, nestled on the hope chest in the hallway near our kitchen, happily ignoring the gathering crowd. There were too many new faces for her to feel comfortable, but she is social and curious enough to want to be on the periphery, listening in and watching. The hope chest and the doll collection were the perfect remedy.

My oldest brother and wife (her great uncle and aunt) were visiting from Maine - our first overnight guests since sometime before March 2020. How to describe the joy we felt to have overnight company? To have this sense of normalcy? I suggested a Saturday brunch for all my local family/relatives - my sons, my daughter-in-law, the granddaughters, a nephew, a niece, my younger brother and his wife. It was awesome! With all of us vaccinated (and many of the older folks with boosters, too), I had no issues with hosting an indoor brunch. 

I actually got a little watery-eyed when my nephew arrived, carrying a fruit salad - I hadn't seen him since before the pandemic began. What a gift to see him, to have him here with us! There was a chorus of hellos as he entered, and a sea of adults crowding in on him. As I reached to hug him, I managed to knock his carefully-balanced hold on the fruit - and BLAM! 
It splattered to the floor, 
the grocery store packaging split apart, and 
immediately 
fruit and juice were flying skidding scattering all about.
Instant chaos ensued amongst all of us loving greeters - some squealing, at least one loud "oh no!," a sister-in-law dashing to find paper towels, me running to the sink for a dishtowel, my husband racing for the trash can, others jumping back to avoid the syrupy mess, still others - not entirely understanding that there was mess on the floor - moving closer to loudly welcome and embrace my nephew. 

One small unexpected hug led to one small unexpected mess to one quick and wild clean up involving a rather ridiculous number of adults - oh how I have missed these party moments!! Truly, even the spills are delightful after so many many months of no parties, no get-togethers, no others. I stood at the sink rinsing out the dishtowel and chuckling, everyone chattering, 

when all of a sudden 

I heard this low, scared, whimpering hum that grew into 

a loud, frightened, wail  - 

"Nana! Nana! Nana!"

We had forgotten about Frog. Entirely. She had watched this frenzied fruit salad melee from her odd vantage point on the side, probably seeing little more than rapid, impulsive movement of unknown thighs and bottoms alongside a variety of equally unknown loud voices - leaving her completely surprised and confused. She couldn't see her parents, she couldn't see her grandparents, what was going on? 

I rushed to her - she was now in child's pose on the hope chest, hands over her ears, trying to melt into the furniture and disappear, while big sobs wracked her body. I scooped her into my arms, and we moved to a quiet corner in the back of the house, away from the others, where I calmed her fears and explained the craziness. She was quickly soothed, and later charmed my nephew by calling him "the fruit salad cousin." So adorable! 

Frog delighted in the rest of the party, as did all of us. Imagine, three years into life, and unaccustomed to the high and unexpected energy of large get-togethers. All of us have a lot of catching up to do!

To good health and gathering together!! 

The view from a three year old's perspective

SOL21 Slice 30: Gift of a day

 

I am participating in the

 Slice of Life Story Challenge (SOL21).  

All participants are sharing stories about moments in their lives, writing 

 every day for the month of March 2021.

Thank you, Two Writing Teachers, for nurturing teacher-writers!

I just spent an absolutely beautiful day babysitting my granddaughters (2 1/2 years old and 5 months old). It was a day that begged to be spent outside every possible moment. So fabulous! Here's a little ditty of a poem that I wrote as the two little ones were napping in the late afternoon, telling the story of our day.

Outside This Day Must Be

Tender breeze and bright soft sun

No jacket or sweaters to wear 

First day like this we've seen

Outside this day must be

Make a pile of pretty rocks

Pull weed flowers from the lawn 

Look closer at buds in the tree

Outside this day must be

Into the wheelbarrow you go

Around and around we run

Bumps and curves met with glee

Outside this day must be

Bring out the chalk and draw

How about we roll down the hill?

Now for some hide and seek

Outside this day must be

Spread the blanket on the lawn

Here's a snack for just us two

Lay here right next to me

Outside this day must be

Was there ever a sky so blue?

Have you seen two birds play chase?

Did you know ants can lift seeds?

Outside this day must be

"I don't remember who said this,

but there really are 

places in the heart you don't even know exist

until you love a child"

- Anne Lamott

SOL21 Slice 16: Making a musical

 

I am participating in the

 Slice of Life Story Challenge (SOL21).  

All participants are sharing stories about moments in their lives, writing 

 every day for the month of March 2021.

Thank you, Two Writing Teachers, for nurturing teacher-writers!

I should give an update on how things are going with babysitting the grandchildren, Frog (28 months) and Bird (4 months). In a word: WONDERFUL! Little Bird is now fully adjusted to having her Nana and Poppa around; we have even heard her coo (there is nothing sweeter than this). It is as if she got her discomfort out of the way in that one long day at the outset, as I wrote about in my very first slice of this month.

So, here we are, a couple weeks into this new babysitting schedule, where we watch the children while our son and daughter-in-law work. Thank you, pandemic, for this strange phenomenon - four adults, two little ones, all caught up in one another all day long. It's mind-blowing to realize that similar scenes are repeated in so many work-at-home families throughout the world, during this pandemic - long days of everyone underfoot and in each other's business. We are lucky that we share babysitting duties with the other grandparents, and we all live close enough that we can split the children up some days, vary the schedule a bit, so that we are not always all of us on top of each other. (Yes, how lucky this young family is, to have all four of the grandparents living nearby and able to pitch in). 

Tuesdays are an 'all together' day. This is quite the dance: the grandparents must find a way to be fun and entertaining, while assuring that the wee ones are relatively quiet, all day long, as Mama and Dada are working. 

I think, post-pandemic, someone should make a musical of these days, and I have been thinking of some of the tunes to guide the action:

The pandemic's ability to shrink living space should not be minimized. Although the house was plenty big enough before, it is considerably smaller since March 2020, almost bursting at its seams. Dada takes the basement for his telework, Mama starts at the dining room table and then squirrels away to another room when the noise is too disruptive. (As in, when the children are not napping.) To set the scene, I hear the Talking Heads singing "Once in a Lifetime,"

you may find yourself living in a shotgun shack

you may find yourself in another part of the world . . .

you may ask yourself, 'how did I get here?' . . .

you may ask yourself, 'how do I work this?' . . .

same as it ever was . . . same as it ever was . . . same as it ever was . . .

I'm not entirely sure what the plot of this musical is, certainly it needs to show the pivoting of the adults all day long, as we bounce from room to room, making lunches, finding shoes and jackets to get the kids outdoors. (Cue those fun opening notes of David Bowie, "Let's Dance") There will definitely be stressful moments. A lot of the time, the parents can wear earbuds and work quietly, silencing the noise of the world around them, the chaos literally at their feet. But then, Frog will try to get downstairs to play in the basement while Dada is in court, via telework. (He's a lawyer - I mean, c'mon, being a lawyer from one's basement? Which kid is playing make-believe? It seems so funny to me that we can conduct so much business from our homes.) 

So, let's consider a medley of music -

The Beatles, "Hello/Goodbye" 

You say yes, I say no

You say stop and I say go go go, oh no

Stealer's Wheel, "Stuck in the Middle"

I've got the feeling that something ain't right

I'm so scared in case I fall off my chair,

And I'm wondering how I'll get down the stairs

Clowns to the left of me! Jokers to the right!

Here I am stuck in the middle with you.

Rolling Stone, "Mixed Emotions"

You're not the only one with mixed emotions

You're not the only ship adrift on this ocean

The day flies by. 

Maybe I need to add a little clip of The Pretenders, "Stop Your Sobbin'" for those tiny booboos that happen, or when a diaper needs to be changed, you'd hear a bit of Britney Spears "Oops I Did It Again." 

I should definitely include a little Otis Redding, "Try A Little Tenderness" - this song is magic!

Of course, the musical ends happily and harmony is restored, with a slightly revised version of Dusty Springfield crooning "Wishin' and Hopin'":

So if you're lookin' to find love you can share

All you gotta do is hold 'em, and kiss 'em and love 'em

And show 'em that you care

Show 'em that you care just for 'em

Do the things they like to do

This draft of a musical is just beginning to come together...I'll have to think on it some more! 

Truth is, we're all working together to make these days work. It is really a blessing to be able to see and be with family during these endless days of pandemic, to be able to support one another.  

"Music is a great healer. Begin and end your day with music."

- Lailah Gifty Akita

SOL21 Slice 5: Distilling advice

 

I am participating in the

 Slice of Life Story Challenge (SOL21).  

All participants are sharing stories about moments in their lives, writing 

 every day for the month of March 2021.

Thank you, Two Writing Teachers, for nurturing teacher-writers!

My two-year-old granddaughter ("Frog") was fascinated that I was making a new cup of tea for myself and pouring out the old, because the tea bag had broken. 

"Show me the cup broke," she said. 

I chuckled, "It's not the cup that broke, it's the tea bag." 

"Show me broke."

"Yes, yes, of course," I said, and I showed her the remnants of my drink, pointing out the tea leaves that were swirling in the cup. I absolutely adore preschoolers' curiosity and questions, I love their 'whys,' I love how there is nothing too small to learn more about. I'm always game to explore alongside. 

I continued, "Do you see those little bits in the tea, floating and swirling? Those are the tea leaves. I don't like to drink the leaves, I like to drink just the liquid. The tea bag is supposed to stayed closed, keeping the tea leaves within, while the tea is . . . while the tea is . . . while the tea is . . ." 

I just kept stammering. Frog looked at me with expectancy. She was sure I had more to say. 

I was sure I had more to say, I just couldn't quite get my brain around it. 

I got out the scissors and cut open the old tea bag, to show her its insides, pouring more water over it. We watched the tea leaves float all about. (Frog was delighted by this, and I made a mental note to put my tea bags up on a higher shelf and make sure the scissors are not accessible.) I explained the process again, explaining how the tea bag had broken open, and, for a second time, I was slammed back into my mental jam, trying to continue, 

"...straining, while the tea is straining"

Frog watched the swirling tea leaves in the cup and echoed, as if imbibing my wisdom, "straining"

"Well, no, that's not the word really, it's like filtering"

Frog looked at me, and questioned-echoed "filtering?"  

Oh my, two-year-old parroting is illuminating!! That's not the dang word.

I tried again, "Well, distilling..."

When she echoed "distilling," I realized I had to stop talking. I just smiled at her, weakly. This mini-lesson was going down the drain. Yikes. Maybe she wouldn't tell her folks we were distilling today. 

Word salad.

Word scramble.

Word scurry. 

Frog went back to playing at the sink of faux-dirty dishes and bubbles. There I stood, perfectly still, stuck, holding an empty mug with remnants of tea leaves, thinking through various synonyms, no longer saying them out loud, walking myself through the process of making tea, searching for the illusive word,

residue

percolating

like with coffee grounds

this is tea leaves

It wasn't as easy for me to move on. I simply could not find the word. Wait, how is tea made? What is the word for making tea? I couldn't speak, the word or words escaped me, my tongue was tied. 

decant

pour off

pour away

let sit for awhile

Goodness! It was like I was playing charades with myself.  

This situation was the inverse of one of my regular writing problems, where I find the ordinary word and cannot think of any better words. I've turned into a very contrary thesaurus, one with giant, gaping holes. Can you imagine if I were teaching this right now (wait, why would I be teaching about tea?) . . . imagine, if I were being observed, what the heck would the assessor think of me? 

Nothing.

Got nothing.

So frustrating!!

Later, I shared the story of Frog and "the cup broke" with my husband, asking "What's the word for making tea?"

He looked at me, incredulous - "What? Are you talking about brewing? steeping?" 

Oh, I was so excited to hear this! "Yes! Yes! I am! Oh, thank you! Both of those words are AWESOME. That was driving me nuts."

He laughed, and added - "Welcome to old age! It has a way of sneaking up on you."

Oh, geez.

Unexpectedly, I have continued a theme from yesterday - fearful signs of aging! Ha! It was never my intention for this to be the focus of my blogging this month, but when a parallel weird experience happens, how can I not write into it? Clearly, these are slices of my life this March! 

A woman is like a tea bag - you can't tell how strong she is until you put her in hot water.

- Eleanor Roosevelt

Following a feather

Yay! It's Day ONE of the November 5 Day OpenWrite with Dr. Sarah J. Donovan's Ethical ELA! I love that this month's challenge surprised me in my email inbox this morning...so excited to write poetry with this lovely community again. Today, Dr. Donovan encourages us to think about thanks - and to write into this. After much thought, I centered on how much I enjoy my walks with my granddaughter. I am truly grateful for this time. Here's my poem about a recent walk together:

feather, small and gray

lying in our walking path

once seen cannot be unseen

get out!, you demand

so, the stroller’s belt I undo

together

we bend over 

looking closely

only to have the wind

lift it 

into the air

sending it forward

beckoning

you and I in pursuit

laughing

following a feather

I received these thoughtful comments on the Ethical ELA website:

Glenda M. Funk

Maureen, I’m feeling the joy in watching you and “Frog” chase a feather and can’t help but think of Emily Dickinson while reading your poem. The idea of “the wind lift[ing] it in the air” and “sending it forward” is filled w/ such hopeful movement.

Kim Johnson

There is such beauty here – it reminds me so much of the feather falling off the church steeple in Savannah in the movie Forrest Gump! I love the movement and the reactions.

Blessings and wonder

He was nudging me awake, 
tapping, 
shaking, 
stroking; 
my body swayed in response, but 
not my mind...
I just couldn't, I just couldn't, I just couldn't...
I'm asleep, 
it's too early in the morning, 
I'm confused, 
I don't understand...
there's light, 
a little bit of light squeaking through the curtain, but, 
if he goes away, and 
he let's me roll over, 
I can stay asleep...
why, oh why, is he talking? 
I need to wake up, 
I'm down here deep, yes, 
in this deep, deep dream, with 
children and water and me, and 
he squeezes my shoulder with love and firmness, 
"Maureen, Nana, she's here! She's here!"

"What?"

"Our new little granddaughter. She's here! She was born just now, at 5:31 this morning! Look!! Here's the text!"

Blessings, wonder, joy, surprise, and love! Just like that, our world turned so incredibly beautiful. This whole day has been so beautiful, so soft, so transformative. 

Her big sister ("Frog," two years old) spent the night with us last night, as she often does during the work week...little did she or we know that the new baby would arrive a week early, and give no notice of her intentions until the middle of the night. Frog overheard our excitement at the early morning text, and she began calling loudly, "Nana! I'm awake! Nana! Open door! Nana!" 

So, we threw open the door to her bedroom and there we all were, rushing about, laughing, dancing, celebrating, in the early morning light. Nana and Poppa with huge smiles, Frog with thumb in her mouth, watching us wide-eyed, amused, and, in all probability, a little uncertain. 

Isn't it amazing how the heart can stretch to include another, always? Love is powerful.

Honestly, it's been a happy blur of a day. 

 

Welcome, baby!

----

I wrote this post for Slice of Life.  All participants are writing about one moment, one part of their day, on Tuesdays. Thank you, Two Writing Teachers!

Bud to blossom

I'm participating in a 5-day "Open Write" on Sarah Donovan's Ethical ELA.  

Today,  Kimberly Johnson inspires us to channel Jericho Brown and his invention of a poetry form he calls "Duplex." I found his poetry writing to be extraordinary - and the prompt to be extremely challenging...which he describes as follows:

Here are the boundaries:
Write a ghazal that is also a sonnet that is also a blues poem of 14 lines, giving each line 9 to 11 syllables.
The first line is echoed in the last line.
The second line of the poem should change our impression of the first line in an unexpected way.
The second line is echoed and becomes the third line.
The fourth line of the poem should change our impression of the third line in an unexpected way.
This continues until the penultimate line becomes the first line of the couplet that leads to the final (and first) line.
For the variations of repeated lines, it is useful to think of the a a’ b scheme of the blues form.   

So, here goes...my first attempt at a "Duplex." I don't believe this will be my last...I found this form to be truly inspiring.

Bud to Blossom

Time is to life as bud is to blossom,
with possible wither or grow.

Is it possible to grow while withering?
Her gentle kiss, while I read, told me so.

Her gentle kiss, while I read, made me glow.
This toddler seeks only our love and laughter.

This toddler knows only our love and laughter,
though we feel loss, walls, and isolation.

Through our loss, walls, and isolation,
this sense that time has been stolen from us.

While we know that time has been stolen,
she's outside, picking flowers in the grass.

Outside, holding flowers from grass, I know
time is to life as bud is to blossom.

Apr13Poetry - There's a Hand

I'm trying something new, taking a risk this month - participating in
#VerseLove with Sarah Donovan,
hoping to write poetry every day this April.







Today's challenge is to write a poem based on a dream or a nightmare; to begin, consider what happened in the dream, write down emotions associated with these events or moments, and then create a poem that is at least 15 lines long.


I keep thinking about my seventeen-month old granddaughter and a recent photograph, that shows nothing more than her hand...she has hidden herself inside a dark closet, delighted with this new game. This fascinates me; the dark is the stuff of my nightmares.





There’s a Hand

There’s a hand sticking out of the closet,

Fingers curled, reaching, grasping,

The breath is faint, labored, forced,

What moves in the dark, thrashing?

There’s a hand sticking out of the closet,

Which side of nightmare is worse -

Only a hint of what is emerging,

Or trapped within dark and cursed?

There’s a hand sticking out of the closet,

A brave, fearless detective

She chooses to look within the dark,

To explore new perspective.

There’s a hand sticking out of the closet,

Followed by giggles and pants

Just like Lucy in Narnia, she’s

Determined to take the chance.

There’s a hand sticking out of the closet

Breaking out, coming back to us,

Watch how isolation, dark, and scary

Meets daring and resilience.

There’s a hand sticking out of the closet,

Freely choosing the unknown,

She knows deep and dark is also free

There is much magic at home. 

The mirror

I am participating in the
 Slice of Life.  
All participants are writing about one moment, one part of their day, 
on Tuesdays.
Thank you, Two Writing Teachers!

My husband captured the cutest video of our fifteen month old granddaughter ('Frog'), watching herself in a full-length mirror...as if seeing herself for the very first time. Truly, the video is enchanting - and I'd love to share it here, so that you might see for yourself. However, we are all trying our very best to raise Frog away from social media (as if this is even possible, these days)...so you'll have to take my word that it is the ultimate cuteness. 

I've looked at the video over and over again, these past couple of days - noticing her eyes as she looks at her reflection, noticing her delight with what she sees, and her burst of happy laughter that she has this mimic in her life. She expresses such ease with herself, with her body; she is delighted to share this moment with her Papa as she plays at the mirror, turning her head to laugh with him, then continuing to bend, stretch, and even squat, making her reflection move. 

I do not pause for mirrors. Whenever I happen to pass by a mirror in a public place, where others might see me (i.e., not my bathroom!), I am not in the least bit happy to see my reflection. Was I ever at ease like Frog? How might I capture just a fraction of her happiness the next time I see my reflection in the mirror? Where did I lose that little girl's openness to all that I am? 

There is so much wisdom in this little girl's dance.

Here's a little rhyming poem about the beauty of her moment at the mirror.

The Mirror

She happens upon a mirror
and simply can't believe
there's another someone hiding
who looks just like she.
She crouches down and then jumps up,
to see what her friend might do.
Every twist is mimicked,
and her facial expressions, too!
She tries a new position,
she leans in for a kiss;
when the other moves the same way,
she laughs with sheer bliss.

Word play

I am participating in the
 Slice of Life.  
All participants are writing about one moment, one part of their day, 
on Tuesdays.
Thank you, Two Writing Teachers!

In recent days, there have been several moments where I have found myself puzzling over words, and I decided the mini-stories behind the words would make for today's slice. I'm not sure that these snippets have any real connection, except for the word play involved. Just a fun write!

1. Daughter-in-law's parents

I puzzle over what to call my daughter's in law's parents. There really is no word in the English language. There is something about these long phrases -
daughter-in-law's parents,
relative by marriage,
co-parents-in-law,
that seems distant, formal, keeping someone at arm's length. They all feel stilted. Funny, I don't think I wondered about this at all for the first years of my son and daughter-in-law's marriage...I mean, we were all new to one another, and I found the terminology fine, normal. However, something has changed with the grandbaby - she has brought us closer. I don't feel any distance to the 'other grandparents,' except for the fact that I have to say OTHER grandparents. I mean, whoa - a grandchild - we are forever connected to one another now. We equally love her. We are equally devoted to her. We need a better term for one another, something shorter and kinder, something that is easy to say. My Google search revealed that other languages have a term for this relationship:
Spanish "consuegros,"
French "belle mere,"
Malay "besan,"
Yiddish "machatunim."
There are probably many others. Isn't it funny that English doesn't have one? Could I make one?
I started playing around with possibities - how about "mamadil" (mother of daughter-in-law), and correspondingly, of course, mamasil (mother of son-in-law), daddydil (father of daughter-in-law), and daddysil (father of son-in-law). Or maybe you could follow the same pattern in reverse: dilma, silma, dildad, sildad.
I was sharing this wacky train of thought with my son and daughter-in-law at brunch one morning over winter break, at a restaurant, when my daughter-in-law exclaimed "pecan roll!" I looked at her with great surprise and delight - yes, that's a silly and unique suggestion for the word! But, a mere moment later, I realized, she was simply nudging my son to order these for the table. We all had a good laugh at my confusion.
So, now, I find myself thinking of her mother as pecan roll.

2. Evening.

I was reading some inconsequential article in the newspaper about a cooking recipe, which noted the need for 'evening the ingredients.' This got me musing about how rarely I say 'evening' in this way - how I almost always think of evening as that time after my long school day, that time when the sky darkens, that time before bed. However, to 'even' things is to make balanced or leveled or same...I think of a teeter-totter, how it goes up and down, and there's this lovely, rare balance in the middle, when the seats are evening. Evening. What if I thought of my evenings as a time of balance? That is the magic of the very best evenings, isn't it? When we regroup, catch our breath, reflect on the day, put our feet up - ah, the great evening. Tony and I have taken a step towards 'evening' with a new year's resolution to sit together at dinner with the television off. There is no TV news blaring at us. For too long now, I have felt as if I needed to 'catch up' on the news when I got home from teaching. [Ha, 'evening news' - there's a contradiction in terms...I am by no means calm and balanced after watching.] Now, instead, we light candles and sit together at one end of our table, and talk. Or, go quiet together. Connecting, after our long day apart. Evening. This is a very nice, inspiring way to look at this time of day in this new year.
Evening.

3. Uh-oh.

Frog is fourteen months old now and has discovered the word/sound/utterance "uh-oh." She notices when things drop or bump, when we struggle to get a diaper on her, or a tight shirt over her head, and she and we will say "uh-oh!" Now she has claimed it for herself as she eats. When she is full and no longer wants to eat, she starts flinging extra pieces of food or the spoon down onto the floor with a rowdy "UH-OH!" Her parents had warned us about this new 'trick' of hers. It did not take long to see it in action. One night recently, Tony and I were eating dinner with her, alongside her, taking turns feeding her and feeding ourselves. She seemed to be slowing down in her eating, and I was slowing down in giving her food, trying to avoid the "uh oh" show. She gave an insistent "mmm-mmm!" which I took to mean "I do want more," so I put a couple chunks of sweet potato on her high chair tray. Immediately, she grabbed one, threw it to the floor with vigor, and exclaimed "UH OH!" Tony and I looked at each other and then looked right at her and said, practically in unison, "It's not 'uh-oh' if you do it on purpose." Poor Frog! She didn't like that - her eyes watered and her jaw quivered. When had her grandparents ever reprimanded her? Then she grabbed the other chunk of sweet potato and threw it to the floor.
No 'uh oh,' though.

4. Patient.

Whenever I visit Dad (age 90) in his nursing home, I take stock of his decline. He has Parkinson's, and this means a whole host of other things - weakening muscles and increasing immobility (he is confined to a wheelchair now), dementia (his is mild, but growing), depression, and ever increasing inability to talk or to recall specific words. It's a pretty horrid disease, the way it ravages a once strong body and mind. On my most recent visit, I was there for his lunch time, and assisting with his meal. We were nestled in the back of the dining room, at a window that looked out onto some beautiful trees. It is my favorite place to sit when I visit him - it cheers me, and, hopefully, cheers him a bit. That's my minimum goal, typically - to cheer Dad a bit. He can be very quiet and sad these days. There he was with that lunch, wrestling with his fork, trying to 'catch' a bite of chicken (and I had cut up this chicken into small, manageable bites - much like I do with Frog. Yeah, it's depressing). As he played 'cat and mouse' with his fork and food, I noticed and (inadvertently) said aloud - "Oh, you don't have anything to drink...I guess they haven't brought drinks around yet." I scanned the room to see if other residents had been served. He stopped eating and said - "You can get up and take care of that yourself." (That was SO one of his parenting lines - 'quit your complaining and just do it'.) I teased him back, with a big smile - "Oh no, I am very PATIENT. I learned that from my Dad - he's a very, very patient guy." He stared right at me for a moment, we locked eyes, and he said "THAT was NEVER said about me. No way. No one ever called me patient." And he chuckled.
Patient.

Time for bed

I am participating in the
 Slice of Life.  
All participants are writing about one moment, one part of their day, 
on Tuesdays.
Thank you, Two Writing Teachers!

Here she is,
after a long day,
enjoying a bedtime bottle,
laying on Nana's chest,
head against Poppa's shoulder,
nestled between and among,
loving together.
Both hands and feet
in constant motion,
lightly,
softly,
kneading,
twisting.
One hand holds Poppa's finger,
the other Nana's thumb,
tapping,
tapping,
tapping.
Legs kick up, too,
feet reach for Poppa's arm,
toes close around his hand,
curling and hugging,
as if to say -
Are you there, still?
or is it -
Let's play!
or maybe,
Hey you,
you belong to me,
I belong to you.
Holding,
feeling,
pressing,
loving.
All the while,
she
drinks,
drinks,
drinks the bottle,
her teeth
squish,
mash,
chew the nipple,
dawdle,
dawdle,
dawdle,
looking at Poppa,
clearing her throat,
searching for his eyes,
endless, caring movements,
enveloping
the slow bottle.
Precious moments,
at the end of a full day.


We have all the time in the world.

The game of food

I am participating in the
 Slice of Life.  
All participants are writing about one moment, one part of their day, 
on Tuesdays.
Thank you, Two Writing Teachers!

It's been awhile since I've shared about my grandchild, 'Frog'. 

These days, Frog is a foodie. 

At eleven months old, she has six teeth and can basically eat any food, if it is prepared in small and soft enough pieces. 

I love to watch Frog eat, and feeding her is a bit of a game. 

Though I think I am, she's in charge. 

She loves 'finger foods,' always happy to feed herself morsels from the tray of her highchair, picking food up with a delicate pinch of her fingers. She will also eat from the spoon I dangle in front of her mouth with some savory bite... and, ever so quickly, she loves to grab that spoon right from me, flailing it this way and that, trying to get it into her mouth by herself - and leaving me to pinch the food on the tray for her. I am always surprised by how she catches me off-guard, and I am left thinking - wait, how did that happen?!

She eats with gusto, big smiles, and sounds - "mmm hmm hmm!," she says.
Frog has big, squishy, lovable cheeks and she will often let a few stray pieces of food sit right in those cheeks, to savor a little later, after the meal. She loves to sit at the table with us, and she loves to try new foods - which means, she wants to eat what you are eating. She watched with big wide eyes as her Poppa ate corn on the cob - riveted by every munch and chew. She even banged her spoon in accompaniment. How she would have loved to have eaten that cob, herself!

We no longer eat while she drinks her bottle. We've learned - if we dare to eat while she is drinking her bottle, she will throw the bottle down with gusto and pound her high chair tray, indignantly.

She just wants in on this game of food, and wants in NOW.