SOL21 Slice 1: I don't know you

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!

As soon as we arrived at their house, my daughter-in-law handed the baby to me to hold. "Bird" is four months old now, and we don't get to sit and be with her enough. Her big sister ("Frog") receives the bulk of our attention - because that is what two year olds do, demand (and receive) attention. 

I was so excited to sit and be with Bird.

Not a moment into this sweet holding, she locked eyes with me, 

her lips quivered, 

her jaw trembled, 

there were these multitudinous wrenching wiggles of her lips, 

her entire body tensed up and became rigid, 

stiff arms and legs and back, 

I thought to myself - oh no, oh no, oh no! 

and then, yes,

she let out the most enormous wail of horror - as if screaming, YOU ARE NOT MY MOTHER!! 

and she continued to cry and cry and cry.

Oh my. 

I had happily anticipated holding this sweet baby, but this was not the image I had in mind. It is not fun to hold a crying baby. 

Clearly, we do NOT spend enough time with the baby.

This week, my daughter-in-law is back to work after maternity leave, and we are the babysitters a couple days a week. What is THIS going to be like? Thus, the weekend visit, to spend a little more time alongside both children, helping Bird to acclimate to us. There we were, lined up on the couch - Dad, Poppa, me (Nana), and Mom, all focused on this wee baby. Yes, grandparents in the middle, holding the wailing Bird, with her parents on each side of us, four adults all trying to soothe her, trying to give her the love and support she needed, trying to reassure her that all will be well. Let's use some 'asset-based' analysis: Bird has amazing stamina! Such perseverance! Tenacity! Wow, she will not be ignored! These traits will serve her well throughout her life, yes? 

I was reminded of all those preschoolers on the first days of school, crying at saying goodbye to their families (back before virtual...before every preschooler had their loved ones right there at their side for the morning...oh, imagine the challenge of separating these children from families in the days to come, when schools are back 'to normal,' what will that be like?). I said to Bird, tenderly, "Oh, little Bird, you need to know, I have had years and years of little ones who see my face and cry, and then, after a while, they learn to love me; I love you, little one, I do; you will learn to love me, I promise you, I promise you!" Mom and Dad tried to soothe, too - "You're okay, you're okay. Yes, yes, we are right here, too. You're okay."

Her little rigid body really fascinated me - 

such a clear visual of what we all do when stressed. 

Her entire body in tight, fixed position, like a wooden board.

How many of us are carrying our bodies like this, throughout this pandemic, every single day?

So much that is new and hard. So much that is unclear. So much that is scary and grief-filled. 

How locked up are we? The neck, shoulders, back...I suspect we move through the days carrying this extra weight of tension, at the ready.

Everyone, 

reading this, 

relax those shoulders, 

take a deep cleansing breath, 

let out all the tension you are holding. 

You know you are!

Here's my hope, that the Two Writing Teachers' Slice of Life Story Challenge will be the deep cleansing breath we all need, the tension release, the letting go of all that has us locked up. We are one full calendar year into this pandemic, the virtual learning, the isolation. Last March, this was all just beginning, we had no real idea what the future held. 

We have been 

and are 

holding so much. 

Here's an excerpt from my post on the last day of the March 2020 challenge: 

There's something very grounding about this Slice of Life Challenge every March, and, particularly, this March, 2020. We have held each other up, we have shared our stories, and we have documented our personal history of this pandemic. I am so appreciative of this writing community. . . 

I hope you find this challenge - this practice - to be grounding, as well. This is my tenth year of participation in this blogging challenge, and I have learned through the years that ordinary moments, these slices of life, are illuminating. When I hone in on something, write 'into' the story, and try to describe in detail, I always end up somewhere else, better. Writing takes me there. To share these small moments with this community is so gratifying. 

One final note - I was able to comfort Bird, she did stop crying. I changed my hold of her, positioning her so that she was more or less sitting on my lap, looking not at me, but "out" at the room. She relaxed. We'll introduce her to my face over time - lol! - but for now, we'll accept where she's at, let her think I don't exist. hahahaha

Here's to the month of March and lots of writing ahead!

Listen, are you breathing just a little and calling it a life?

- Mary Oliver

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. 

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.

SOL19 Slice #27 Coming home

I am participating in the
 Slice of Life Story Challenge (SOL19)
All participants are writing about one moment, one part of their day, every day for the month of March 2019.

A big thank you to Two Writing Teachers for providing this unique opportunity
for teacher-writers to share and reflect.

I walk into Frog's* room and peer into her bassinet...she looks right back at me, and gives me a big welcoming smile. I lift her up and carry her to the changing table, talking and chattering with her. "Yes! I am here! Nana has come to see you! You had such a good nap." My husband (Papa) babysits Frog each week, and I hurry over their way after my teaching day. Lately, her nap schedule means that I arrive at her house to find her fully asleep, and I must be patient and good, and leave her be. This is so hard to do! What a gift, this time, to peek in at her and have her look right back at me. Honestly, I didn't wake her up!

Frog delights in the changing table - it is one of her favorite hangouts in the house, which we think is the funniest thing. Truly, there are nicer places to be! Perhaps she loves to be up high, nearer to the adults in her life, while simultaneously free to wriggle and stretch? Maybe she likes to feel the air on her skin, as we shed her clothing? She always gives us many smiles while we change her diaper. Then, she goes into a free-form exercise routine. She kicks her legs out long and stiff, then loosens and lifts them up and around. She loves to press her feet against the container of wipes and listen to it crackle, back and forth - crackle, quiet, crackle, quiet. Her hands are busy, too - searching for something to grab and hold onto (Nana's hair?), and trying to get her fingers into her mouth. She coos and cackles, hums and shrieks. She's a talker! We banter back and forth, me making silly noises and Frog imitating.

Then, a surprise: there is a loud HRRRUNG of the garage door, as it opens...the garage is just below her bedroom. Frog looks at me with WIDE EYES and gives a loud squeal of delight, and she kicks her legs wildly in excitement!! This squeal was so distinct, and her smile so big, I feel certain it was associated with the noise.

To me, this is magical: she KNOWS!

Frog knows that if the garage door sound happens, someone she loves is coming home. Mama's coming home? Daddy's coming home? She knows.

Just a moment or so later, she is proven right - Mama comes in and gives her a big kiss.

Frog is five months old and the joy of our lives. It is so extraordinary to see her begin to know routines. 

*FYI - As I begin to share stories from my heart, I've decided to write fictitious names for my loved ones - however clunky that may seem - in the interest of preserving whatever shreds of anonymity one really has in this world. I'm going to call my grandchild 'Frog' - I love frogs...as a spirit animal, they exemplify renewal, transformation, metamorphosis, and so much more. 

SOL 19 Slice #13 Carefully

I am participating in the
 Slice of Life Story Challenge (SOL19)
All participants are writing about one moment, one part of their day, every day for the month of March 2019.

A big thank you to Two Writing Teachers for providing this unique opportunity
for teacher-writers to share and reflect.

Four months old...
I look at her, she looks at me,
I coo at her, she coos at me,
I smile at her, she smiles at me,
back and forth, we play and play and play.
I know she needs a nap,
as her hands rub her eyes.
What was it the doctor said,
to aim for three naps a day?
How I'd love just a little more play.
Let me try a bottle,
let me hold her in my arms,
ahhh, just the trick, just the thing,
she falls asleep in my arms,
deep asleep,
before the final sips.
Carefully,
oh so carefully,
I slip the paci in her mouth,
and, carefully,
oh so carefully,
move her to the bedroom,
where her easy-on sleep suit awaits,
there in the bassinet.
Carefully,
oh so carefully,
I lay her down,
slip those tiny feet into the leg openings,
those tiny hands and arms into theirs,
and carefully,
oh so carefully,
I give a pull, to close the cozy suit.
Carefully,
oh so carefully.
I have been still, and slow, and soft.
I give one tiny pat of love on her tummy,
only to see
a smile, full smile,
breaking out around the pacifier,
eyes wide and looking,
at me,
searching.
"Don't meet the eyes," my son, her father, warned.
Those eyes,
now locked on me,
as if to say:
Who are you kidding, Nana?
You don't want me in here, with you out there!
I slip out, quickly,
carefully,
only to hear her fret,
then a stronger cry.
She knows,
and I know,
I'll be back in to get her.
Isn't there a better time to practice napping?
Isn't there a better enforcer than Nana?