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Mommy Post

Under The Ra

I am down in the dumps. I am not at ease. I am trying to manage my feelings and concerns about my toddler’s latest appointment with the developmental pediatrician. I tried to give myself a pep talk, listen to gospel music and take a walk, but nope. Still blue.

No parent ever wants to hear that something is wrong with their child.  Parents are like superhero’s sworn to protect and serve their children. We will go to war; go broke; go gray in the service of our children.

I have been here before.  This battlefield is not new.

I remember the feeling of going to war for my first child. At the age of fifteen, I started noticing things that were changing in the way that she behaved. I spoke to her school counselor and mentioned my daughter’s weight loss. She made note of my concerns and then brushed…

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Daily Prompt – Polish

Today’s prompt from the Daily Word is Polish

The word makes me think of things that are refined, cleaned up. The perfect poem, the perfect essay, song, book. They were all polished by the author and/or editor before reaching the masses.

Ironically, today is also the birthday of Prince, Gwendolyn Brooks and Nikki Giovanni. It can’t be a coincidence that these wonderful people were born today and each touched my life in some way.

They were quite polished.

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Reflections – Research

I was never one to outline. Whenever I attempted to write a novel, I just started writing. Most times, I do a character biography but I never sit down and outline the story. I have a fantasy that the words, the story, the twists and the turns will just come to me as I type.

So far, that hasn’t really worked.

I usually start researching things along the way. Could it really happen this way? Did people talk like that in 1986? What was going on in that town in the 80’s. What was the job market like? How would an arrest and questioning really go? What would child protective services do in the late 80’s in a situation like this one?

I love to research. I am the google queen. This is not up for debate.

The problem is that the research would send me off on these tangents and I would never return to my original intent – finishing the story.

Recently, I did manage to outline the story I’m working on. I know where it’s supposed to go and what I intend to happen. This has been so helpful to me because now when I get lost on a research binge (of course, I still do it) I can pick the story back up and keep on trudging.

I’m a fly by the seat of my pants kind of girl. I move according to my feelings. When your head is in the clouds (like mine often lives), it’s helpful to have a road map when I’m on land.

Mother Goose

In my office at work, most people who sit near me look out of the huge windows and watch the always-heavy trafffic on I-90/Kennedy. Today though every one had taken an interest in a certain Mother Goose and her brand new goslings.

The Momma had chosen one of the planter boxes to have her babies. One of the babies ended up going over the edge and landing on the roof. So began the day’s drama.

We all watched as the prodigal gosling walked around and around the planter box. Momma Goose walked around and around inside the box seeming to search for and we imagined to call out for her missing baby.

Eventually, she jumped down and walked next to her baby. Then she would go back up to the others. And so it went. Over and over again. At various times throughout the day, people came and went to look over and check on Momma Goose and her goslings.

At one point, I was away from my desk and I heard a loud and collective gasp and headed back to find that there were now two goslings out of the box!

In the next hour, the remaining two dropped over the edge and made it to the family. When the last gosling made his several attempts, we all cheered him on and everyone was happy once the family was united.

It never ceases to amaze me the way that we bond with animals. Today, I witnessed a hodge podge of co-workers care and cheer for Mother Goose and her goslings. It felt a little spiritual to me. Like I was watching something divine.

Then I came home to find that another young life was taken in my hometown in Michigan and that a young, honor-roll student was shot and killed in Texas today and I thought about the mothers of those two.

Im sitting in the bed now, typing this, and wondering who is caring and cheering for those mothers.


Be Writing

I’ve been calling myself an aspiring writer for a little while now. I’m in graduate school for a writing program. I’ve joined writing groups. I’ve started and stopped writing several projects. I’ve participated in nanowrimo.

I recently came across a post that said “Don’t be a writer; be writing.” It made me think that I needed to stop aspiring and just write.