Part of the educational journey

My children currently attend a performing arts public charter school.  Prior to them attending this school, they home schooled for a few years.  What I mostly taught was how to learn and an enjoyment for learning.  When each of them went back to school they were ahead of other 7th graders in some areas and behind in others.  Since then, they have caught up where they were behind.  My son likes it there, well enough.  He has friends, passes his classes, and enjoys the arts.  This story, is not about him.

My daughter has felt unhappy, academically, since she went back to school.   Many, many things have happened that have caused this and I don't feel the need to detail these, because the bottom line is, she feels like she is being held back.  Not so much from the teachers as from the other students. She learns something, but has to wait days for everyone else to learn it before she can move on to the next thing. Another issue with the other students is that most of them don't really want to learn.  They try to sidetrack the teachers and often succeed.  My daughter would rather be doing something else than sit in the classroom with people who don't even want to be there.  She would rather be learning.  I do not blame her.  I also understand where the other kids are coming from, because I was one of them.  I hated school and would have done anything not to work.  So, I can see everyone's side and no one is to blame.  It just happens that this child of mine is precocious and needs to be in a very different academic setting than most of us. 

She has taken her life and her education into her own hands.  We have been talking about alternative options for a long time. Last year when we began this discussion, I asked her to try one more year, her freshman year, at her school.  People told us high school would be better.  Unfortunately, that was not the case for her, so we have moved onto the next plan.

When she was home schooling, about age 10 or 11 she started learning about Japan. She began learning the language using different computer programs and books. She would pour over books and websites about the country, its history and culture.  3 years ago she started researching study abroad programs and reading blogs of students abroad.

This past fall she applied for a yearlong study abroad in Japan program, but it was a last minute thing and she didn't get in. We did learn a little about the application process.  This was useful because we ended up applying to many programs.

Since September 2012 we (and I say we because parents have a lot of work to do too) visited 4 private high schools and 1 early admission college. She is applying to 2 of those schools. Simon's Rock College and the Stoneleigh-Burnham School, which is a private all-girls school. She is also applying to a study abroad program in Germany for a full school year and from a different organization she is applying to study abroad this summer in Japan.

Each and every school/program has its own application process, including its own essays to write, interviews to be had, its own test to take (in one case) and its own scholarship to apply for. She can not go to any of these places if she does not get a full or almost full scholarship. That is why I encouraged her to apply to so many different options. I do believe she will be accepted into at least one program, but I don't know if we'll get the money for it.

Had I fully known how much work and pressure it would be on her, when we began the process, I don't think I would have encouraged her to apply to so many places.  I had no idea what we were getting into (even after the first Japan study abroad application).  Somehow, she has managed to keep up her grades, continue with her extracurricular activities, and get the applications done.  We still have one more to finish, but after Feb. 23, all we will have left to do is wait.

My personal hope is that she gets to go to Japan for the summer and then comes home and begins her college education.  That is my dream for her. We do have a backup plan if none of the options for the next school year pan out...home school.   At least for a year and begin the Simon's Rock process all over again.  Whatever happens, I'm sure she will be happy.  She is beautiful and smart and amazing.  I am honored to be witness to her life.  

I started this by talking about both of my children and I'd like to end it that way.  I have always thought of them as two very different, very unique people and we (my husband and I) have always treated them that way. They each have a different course their lives will take.  I am blessed to have them in my life.  I know they will be successful in whatever they choose to do.  I am happy to help them accomplish their dreams.  

Here are links to some of the places and programs I talked about.  If the link doesn't work, copy and paste:

Bard College at Simon's Rock:

http://www.simons-rock.edu/

Stoneleigh-Burnham School:

http://sbschool.org/

AFS study abroad:

http://www.afsusa.org/
YFU study abroad: 
http://yfu.org/

Sexy - My Latest Vehicle

I love Sexy.  Well, I love the idea of Sexy.  She is actually quite annoying, as I am approximately 1 inch too short to drive her.  I have blind spots, big ones.  But this is all ok.  Why?  Because that just makes sense for Sexy.  She is, "bigger on the inside".  This is how she got her name.  And I think of her all the time, in the color blue, not the black that currently envelopes her.  Of course there is the "skirt" that would be going out instead of under, though I worry that would make her loose some mpg.  But no worry.  It's only a day dream.  She would have a stencil on the door.   She would have a light on top.  Inside she would have golden lights on the floors and walls and ceiling. I'd even have a bumper sticker that said "It's bigger on the Inside".  Oh yes.  This is how I envision my 2006 Scion Xb.  Just today I realized she needed a compass.  But first I needed to consult pictures of Numbers 9 and 10's consul to see if she had one.  I feel like she did, for irony's sake.  I've also spent hours perusing items that don't exist.  Like a TARDIS magnet...does not exist.  But a TARDIS bobble head does.  It can go on top of thin computer monitors.  So, I thought I'd get one for my car.  But I haven't yet. I really am going to get the lights.  Just you wait.  

If I think about my new to me car as Sexy and see her through my mind's eye, I love her!  I just don't want to let go of this daydream, or I might find her flaws and see her for what she is, a car.  I couldn't bear that.  To me, she's the TARDIS in disguise.

Chicken Varieties

This post is for the chicken loving nerd in me.  Did you think I could just leave the last post as is, without even telling you what kind of hens are on their way?  So, if all goes well, our flock will consist of:

3 Red Stars

2 Rhode Island Reds

3 Barred Plymouth Rocks (or just Barred Rock as most people call them)

3 Australorps

2 Speckled Sussex 

2 Easter Eggers

Some of these we have lived with before and know how wonderful they are and others will be new for us.  I tried to make it so that all the birds are hearty and good layers and then the next important thing was to have a colorful flock.  I love that they all look different.  This will be fun!!!!

If you are interested in seeing what they look like www.mypetchicken.com is a great place to see and learn about the different varieties. 

Spring is Just Around the Corner

I just ordered 15 day old layers to arrive on April 16.  That will give me till the middle of May to take down the old coop and put up a new one.  I am so excited.  Living in the country is beautiful, but I could be living anywhere and live the way we have been.  Only, there would be a lot less driving if we lived closer to things.  So, to make living in the country "worth it" to me, I had to get the hens.  I know I could have a few if we lived in a more populated area, but I like having a flock.  Next, I'm going to figure out if we could have sheep.  Of course there are other people living here, so I guess I need to find out if they would care.  

Another exciting thing we are doing is, brewing beer with some friends.  We have two batches going and we'll make a third next week.  Since we all love drinking beer, we thought we should make it ourselves.  In the long run it saves money and it'll be one more thing we do for ourselves.  

I've been wanting to grow hops, so I think the next thing I'll do is start researching how.  My current garden was, as my kids might say, an epic fail last year.  I'm hoping it will go better this year.  If I could just get it planted, I think it will be fantastic.  I made the design myself and I really want to see if it works.  Its a companion garden, everything in it supports the growth of everything else.  This time of year, when its cold, and still dark, I have discovered, as so many others have, planning for the spring is a great way to get through it. 

Alive?!

I wrote this about a year ago.  I'm choosing to share it now.  I still feel this

but now, I can be honest.   I can tell you.  This is more a spoken work than

a poem, but I need to share here and now. 

      Alive?!

My heart hurts.

It bangs so hard in my chest –

Every day –

 just about all day, the only time I don’t notice is when I’m doing something very physical,  
  like…moving rocks.

I can’t believe I’m not in the hospital.

My heart hurts and bangs so hard it’s as if the whole world can hear and see it pounding there. 

I look sometimes –

but I can’t see it with my seeing eyes. 

But sometimes I can see –

 with those other eyes –

my mind’s eyes –

 pushing my skin, my breasts, my ribs up just a bit –

 I can see it –

 I can hear it –

 beating –

 so loud.

Sometimes I’m surprised I’m heard when I speak.

Sometimes I’m surprised to hear words at all for my heart and my stomach seem to migrate to my throat –

often –

making breathing and speaking a rather labored affair. 

All that banging and constricting takes up so much room.

Will it ever stop? 

Will it lessen?

Or will I just become accustomed to this unusual bodily arrangement of parts?

An alien to my body. 

This body of heartache and grief –

 I am forced to dwell in –

part of,  yet separate.

A loved one said “Perhaps the pain is keeping you here.  Without it you would just float away.”

Perhaps that is right.

Perhaps pain is a friend, waking me up –

 to life. 

For surely, alive is what I feel –

or present at the least –

here and now –

 the colors so loud –

 the scent of everything sweet and foul upon the air –

 and the pain so always present,  keeping me

tethered to now.

Declaration of the Occupation of New York City

This is huge.  I cannot sit quietly by.  I am the 99%.  I am out in the streets.

Petitions

I recently received a petition to ask the congress or the president or someone in power to forgive student loan debt.  I think that is utterly ridiculous.  As long as the system stays the same, those loans need to be paid back so other young people can get them as well.  If no one pays, where will the loans for the new freshman come from?  How will next year’s seniors finish school?  Unless the system goes to one like England has, where anyone who is a citizen can go to school for free.  Then I would agree that we should forgive all the loans.  Until then, there are some things that ought to be left alone. 

Jerry my Phone Gnome

So the other day, my phone stopped working properly. By that, I mean, I could no longer hear the person on the other end of the line, but he could still hear me. I found this out, when I finally got the speaker phone to turn on and I was told how annoying this was getting. This is spoken by my very patient husband. It only took 3 or 4 calls to him before I realized something was amiss and another 2 to figure out how to get the speaker on before he hung up again.

The reason things like this happen to my phone is Jerry. Jerry is my phone gnome. Jerry wreaks all kinds of havoc with my phones. Yes, that’s plural. Jerry seems to travel from phone to phone enjoying my company and watching my frustrated antics as each subsequent phone ceases to operate properly. Of course Jerry isn’t actually a gnome, but he hates it when I call him that. Since this is the only way I have found to get back at Jerry and cause him some annoyance, I find myself taking the opportunity every chance I can get. Jerry seems to want to play at least once a week and sometimes every day. Jerry is quite unpredictable. But I have grown to love Jerry over the years and I can’t imagine a life on the cell phone without Jerry there to cause static, dropped words and calls, screwed up speakers and of course the wrong dial.

Agnes Under the Big Top: A review

We saw Agnes Under the Big Top last night at the Long Wharf Theater in New Haven, CT. My favorite part, was the set. This design was truly amazing and the show is worth seeing just for that reason. It seemed so simple and yet did so much. There were so many moving parts it fun to watch. They did a great job of creating the subway station. I loved the platform signs that showed the scene titles. The subway station feel was great. From what I read, this set was very elaborate and required a bit of machinery. I wish I knew better how to talk about set design because this was very cool and I know I am not doing it justice.


I liked the lighting too. Again, it felt like being in the subway station, waiting on the platform, seeing the trains go by. The way the stage was lit between scenes, really worked as well. I liked being about to see what was going on and the set would change. The way the crew moved with the rhythms as they changed scenes was awesome. It all flowed to rhythm of the trains...it was brilliant.

The acting was fine. There were a couple of outstanding performances, but mainly outstanding moments. I loved the human music machine.

I'm not sure why but the show, overall, was just ok. I'm unable to pinpoint what it was that prevented it from being anything other than good. I always knew I was watching a show. There were moments that really stood out and I would forget for a moment where I was and enter the scene with the characters, but for the most part that didn't happen.

We should have stayed for the "talk-back" afterward, maybe it would have helped make sense of it, but I do think art should be able to stand on its own. I do love the theater though and a good (not great, not bad) show is way better than no show. There was much to admire and be in awe of so for me it was still a win.

Good chance I lost it again.
What is "it"?
"It" is me.
Me on paper.
Me on the screen, pretending to be paper.
That is where I lost it again.

The first time,
It was stolen by man.
This time stupidity took it.
The screen is not paper.
If you want it to last,
it ought to be backed up.

I didn't do that.
I lost it again.
My words.

Oh lamentable day.

The day the computer refused to boot.

Writing

I miss writing. There is something soothing or comforting in the act of placing the symbols for sounds on a page. Stringing them together to form thoughts or ideas that can be shared is quite fulfilling. What is it about this simple act many of us take for granted, that is so enticing? Perhaps it is taking the intangible, thought, and giving it a life to be touched, viewed and, with the right implement, even smelled.

Extracting ideas, that without the written word, would have no place to go, they could be told verbally, but it isn’t the same as existing on the material plane, giving them concreteness, is so exhilarating for me, that I often find myself writing about nothing more than writing or the idea of not having ideas which is still giving form to the creation of something from nothing. The nothing being lack of thought, the something being the words I am writing and hopefully you are reading.

Ahh, fulfillment.

My Inner Hippie

Things. We have them. We desire them. House, automobile, land, clothes, items to fill the home. We then need to hold on to them, for we musn't let go. The keeping and acquiring of these things takes a great deal of effort. For some, it is all that life is about, they thrive on their efforts to retain and gain. For others it is only with great difficulty and a huge amount of energy that they can have or keep the basic necessities for life. What would happen if we were to use that same amount of energy to love? Love each other, love the flowers, love the weather, just love. Love would encompass appreciation; appreciation for food to nourish; a roof, be it tarpaulin or wood, to keep the elements at bay; a hug to fill the soul. Things take great energy to retain. Love, freely given and received is what we really need, not a thing or any thing else at all.

The Baby

The phone was ringing. As my arm groped around for the source of the sound, my eyes blearily took in the time, 1 AM. Who the hell was calling at 1 AM? It was Meadow (not her real name), a very dear friend of mine. “My water broke. I didn’t go into labor yet”, I heard the phone say to me. My mind was trying to comprehend what that was supposed to mean to me. I had been asleep for about an hour and a half and was pretty sure I had some more of that to do. “Huh?” was about as articulate as I got in that moment. “Yeah, this is how it was with my son. We’re getting ready to go to the hospital, will you meet us?” “Uh, yeah.” “What are you thinking?” “My mind is racing in a million directions. I’ll see you there.” Oh no, I had planned for every possible outcome, except this one: middle of the night labor with husband out of town. Ugh!!! I had to get to the hospital. I had to get dressed. I had to find a place for my kids. I couldn’t think straight. There was a baby due to arrive in the world and I had to be there, but how? I thought I was prepared, but apparently, I wasn’t even close. I called my husband’s cell, he didn’t answer. I called my mother-in-love’s phone, she did, “Meadow’s water broke” I said. That’s all I had to say, we’ve all been waiting for this moment. “OK. Hold on. I’ll get him” she croaked in her “middle of the night, I’m sound asleep” voice. I hear her get out of bed and wake him. I tell him he needs to come home and get the kids, but there’s a hitch, I don’t know where they’ll be. I’ll call back as soon as I do. He is so wonderful. He woke up and was in the truck on his way home in less than fifteen minutes. Of course, he was still two hours away.

I had a list. I made this list because I didn’t want Meadow to worry about my end of things. I made a list of friends who would aide me, when I was called to aide her. These friends were willing to watch my children if their father wasn’t around, but only until he could get there. The deal was that I’d call him wherever he was and he’d come get them. He could be up to two hours away, depending on what job he was working on. When I originally asked each person to do this for me, the conversation was based on the assumption that this would be during the day. I never considered the fact this could happen after the sun went down. Neither did any of my friends on the list, who all happen to be parents by birth. What had I been thinking? Of course not one of them heard their phone. I called my husband back. “That plan isn’t working” I barked. “Why can’t the kids just stay there? I’ll be home soon.” replied the calm voice of reason. What a good idea. Now that was solved, all I had to do was find something to wear. I had a choice between looking good in cleanish clothes or donning a clean not-so-flattering attire. I decided the baby wouldn’t care what I looked like, but deserved the respect of cleanliness. I still needed a book, a change of clothes, and a pair of sneakers. Luckily they were all in the same room. I tossed them in bag, filled my water bottle...And I was off.

The hospital, which I have never actually been to, was over an hour away. I was a bit concerned about falling asleep at the wheel. I had just had a long day and with only an hour and half of shuteye, this was a very real concern. Why hadn’t I thought about this? What was I going to do? A solution began to form. I had to stop for coffee. Even if it was too hot to drink, the fear of dropping it on my lap would keep me awake.

Getting to the hospital proved itself to be pretty easy, it was exactly where I had imagined it. The problem began after I got there. It was a huge and sprawling complex. How in the hell was I supposed to find them? I couldn’t find any signs indicating that they even had a birthing center at this place. Maybe I wasn’t looking hard enough. Maybe I was at the wrong hospital. I really needed to find them. I managed to locate the main entrance and a parking lot not too far away. The night was very cold and windy. As I was walking towards the main entrance I remembered Meadow telling me she left directions on the phone. Shit! I hadn't checked cell messages in weeks. When I finally get to her message, it sounded like she was about to have the baby. I began to worry. A security guard came up to me as I was listening and told me I had to go back to my car, drive around to another lot, then walk down and around to the emergency room. UGH!!! I kept having visions of walking into the room and hearing the wail of a baby. Where are they? Why didn’t I check this place out sooner?

I finally found my way into the building, now I needed to get to the family. A surly night guard let me in and pointed me in the right direction. At last, the Birthing Center. It actually existed. The night nurse confirmed I was at the correct hospital when she recognized Meadow's name and directed me to “room #11, right down the hall”. I knocked and went in.

I actually held me breath, listening for the baby as I entered the room. To my relief, there was no crying baby, yet. What I did see was my beloved friend lying on the hospital bed, her lover and father of the baby by her head, a group of 3 or 4 women standing all around her. I saw her older children on the couch, bleary eyed. I took off my coat. I helped her son to take off his. They hadn’t been there very long themselves.

A few minutes go by. She is ready to push. I check in with the kids to make sure they are ok. I ask if they want to watch, they both nod not saying a word and get to their feet. We stand at the foot of the bed. Her daughter, the oldest, is standing to my left, my arm around her. Her son is to my right and doesn’t want to be held. They both seem nervous to me, but ok. That seems reasonable, so I let it be. Meadow starts to push. I can see a head just up the birth canal a little bit. Not quite to the opening. Her son keeps checking the clock. Meadow’s head is pushed back and I think she’ll snap her own neck. “Put your chin to your chest” the midwife says, gently over the sounds of pain and work coming from Meadow. She pushes a couple times and her vagina opens wide and the top of the head pushes on it. It opens more and the baby’s head comes half out. She takes a break, only a breath or two, then she’s pushing again and the whole head is out. I am filled with awe. Another breath and groan and push and the baby turns, then another breath. Another push and there she is. All blood and baby and Meadow and love and her son is checking the time of birth. “3:27” he says, “Actually, 3:26 and 45 seconds.” He’s right. As soon as her foot was out he was on that clock. He knew. Leave it to a big brother.

Within minutes baby girl was crying, then nursing. She knew what to do. Proud Papi cut the cord. I took pictures with their cell phone. It all happened so fast they left the camera in the car. I hope the pics come out ok. I know I don’t need them, I won’t ever forget this.

I have never witnessed a birth before. Meadow asked me a few months ago if I’d be there for her or her kids or whoever needed what. Of course I agreed. We’ve been friends for 9 years, the family means a lot to me. I never thought it would be like that though. Less than 10 minutes of pushing. I was ready to coach and say sweet encouragements and walk with her in the halls and read to the kids and do so many supportive things. In the end, it was quick and intense. A lot like my girlfriend. She is intense. Why would I think her birthing would be anything other? This baby girl is so loved and beautiful. She looks just like her father. I didn’t want to interfere, so I tried to stay out of the way, but it was hard. I wanted to hold her pretty badly. After an hour or so, Meadow had to empty her bladder, and asked if I’d like to hold the baby while she did. As if I’d say no. Wow. Holding that new, fragile, life in my arms was truly an honor. She’s strong and vocal and lovely. She doesn’t have a name yet, but that’s ok. She has love, the name will come.

Pretentious Poem

Pretentious Poetry,
Pretentious Poems,
Pretentious Poets.
The snake eating
Its own tail.
Some are just myopic.
Peering peripherally,
Well, then its plain as paper.
They don their pretty clothes
- or their not so pretty clothes
Writing words
Attempting to convey
A something.
So sure of their grasp of the language.
And, to what avail?
To impress?
Impress on who, or on what?
We hide behind our words
As others – behind masks.
We profess these to be our Truths.
And confess our depths perceptions.
But is it?
Look closely?
Could it be a decoy?
No really one knows.
And – in the end,
No one cares.
The paper crumbles
- as do we all –
A grave by pauper or prince
Is still a grave.

The Guys Go Fishing

My husband and our friend love to fish. So do I. So do our kids. Its fun and most of us enjoy eating fresh fish. I caught my first two keepers toward the end of the season. Now, I use the phrase “end of the season” very loosely. The reason being, these men are fanatical about fishing. They have spent at least a few hours every weekend since the water froze, ice fishing. I have spent every weekend since the water froze, teasing them. You see, they spend all evening, the night previous to fishing day, preparing their tip ups, lines, and other gear. They usually get 0-3 hours sleep, owing to the fact that they need to be the first ones on the ice, in order to get first pick of the lake. Then they spend the rest of day standing around 6 inch holes, freezing their asses off. They call this fun. They try to get me to join them. They just don’t get it. There is nothing in my genetic make up that thinks this is a good idea. My people are from the desert. My husband, on the other hand, was created to thrive in a cold climate, as some of his ancestors were Swedish. Hell, the cold is probably good for his constitution. More power to him. You just won’t find this woman any where near them if they happen to be standing around on ice.

Each week they go out with high hopes. They know which ponds stock which fish. They are equipped with the appropriate gear. Each week they come home and tell me about the guy who caught a salmon just as they were about to leave or the trout they caught, but didn’t quite land. One weekend they even brought home a few perch, to appease me, but they were barely edible. Too much work for not enough meat. There has to be some equation to make it worth it. For example, sun fish. Most people wouldn’t bother. They’ve heard they’re not good eatin’. Well let me tell you. They are the candy of the lake. So I’m willing to work for the little meat you get, but with perch... Sorry, just doesn’t cut it for me. Pardon me, I digress, I was discussing these gentlemen and their bizarre ritual. As I said earlier, I find it hard not to tease them. What is there to take seriously?

Well I guess today is the day they came home with the answer.

Take a look at these:

They did it!!!

Now that's a fish!

Yumm!!!

I guess they showed me. I don’t mind eating a little crow, especially when it tastes like salmon.

Haiku

Well my friends this is another sad writing day for me. Actually, it is a sad reading day for you. I wrote a beautiful essay. Only I can't share it with you. It was way too personal. Here's the thing, I wrote for a long time, and when it was done, I read it and knew that was for me. Maybe someday I can share it, but for now, that is my gem. For you I have Haiku:


I wrote an essay
Thinking of you the whole time
Reading my fine words

In The Room

The room is empty. I sit, legs crossed, eyes ahead. I am transfixed with the blankness of the wall. The size of it is more than my imagination can grapple with. The entire room is white. There is no door knob. There is no window. There is no bench, or chair, or cushion upon which to sit. I am donned in white; white leggings that cover my feet, a white long sleeve leotard, white gloves and a white hood. I am here voluntarily, though I am now beginning to question my choices. I am forced to face nothingness. As white is the absence of color, so my brain shall become absence of thought. From that, I do not know what will present itself, but I can hope.

No clock in the room. Time begins to change shape. I am lying on my back, legs together, arms tucked in close to my body. I wonder how long I have been here. I feel no hunger, so perhaps it hasn’t been very long. But I have taken too many breathes to know that cannot be so. Time. Why has it become so important to me? I begin to feel an urgency to know what time it is, to know how long I have been here. I look at my wrist as if a time piece will magically appear. I realize I am looking for my sense of time. Like touch is a sense to the hands and sight a sense to the eyes. Where in my body do I sense time?

There is no sound save that of my breath. The walls have been sound proofed. Not just from the outside. I try to scream, but it falls flat. There is no umph in it. No echo. No depth. I’m standing, my belly and ear pressed hard against a wall. I strain to hear something, anything. I do not think I have ever fully appreciated how loud quiet is until now.....It’s deafening.

I can’t figure out where the light is coming from. It’s as if the room is lit by magic.

I’m still thinking.

I’m going back into the dream now.

The Wall

Words are elusive,
Transient beings
Swirling through my mind.
Just when I think I’ve
cornered one,
It slips through the synapses,
Becoming a transparent memory –
Taunting me
Daring my creativity to flow,
An elaborate wall constructed.
Is this
Writer’s Block?

I love to write

I have recently remembered I love writing. The process of stringing words together, in a precise pattern to convey images or feelings is a great deal of fun. Time seems to slip away, as does the world around me. Including all my responsibilities. All that remains is my pen and paper, or screen and keyboard for a more accurate representation, and my thoughts. I feel so at peace. I become the epitome of focus. Nothing can interrupt me. It’s odd, as I have lots of people and animals around me, yet they become two dimensional, as if I had just birthed them into the scene on the screen. Interaction feels scripted and only half (or less) of my attention is there. I’m not sure if this is healthy or not.

For me this is that “thing” that makes time disappear, we each have one. For some it might be painting and to others it's running. For now, this is mine. Yet I'm feeling like this may not be a good thing. The word I am looking for more accurately would be guilt. I feel guilt. Guilt for writing. Guilt for doing something creative. Guilt for not doing something useful. Guilt. It feels so unfair. I rarely do anything just for me, especially if it is something I really enjoy. I’m supposed to be attentive to my family and their needs. Guilt. I’m supposed to be teaching my children. Guilt. I'm supposed to be present. 100% in the moment present. I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking I should just let it go, right? You’re thinking, “you’re a mother, of course you need some time just for you”. Well let me tell you, so am I.

I have a good excuse for keeping the guilt. I find writing late at night too tedious. After a full day of using my brain, I don’t want to use it anymore. First thing in the morning won’t do, my brain needs a good 2 hour jump start or at least 2 cups of coffee. No, the perfect time for me to be writing, is when I’m supposed to be making dinner. When my family most needs me, I want to check out. That sucks. Like my language? See what guilt does to a person? It reduces people, or at least me, to use crass, base language. I know I need to get over it, but I only just discovered it. Well, I hope it’s the guilt I soon get over and not the writing. I guess only time will tell which will win out.

Maybe I could make this magical time of day, “writing time”, for the whole family and we could all write. Then, as each of us finishes we could join the others in the kitchen and we could all make dinner together. Wow, I may just have figured out how to let the guilt go and keep writing. Did you see the breath of relief I just released? Did you breathe it with me? Yahoo!!!! I love it when stories have a creative, happy ending. Don’t you?

You know they only happen in fairy tales, right?

Caged Love

I say, let me go
Don’t hold me
here
against my will

I say, release me
Freedom from behind
stained glass walls
is fuzzy at best

I say, let me fly
Clipped wings
confine me
to earth

I say, raise me up
Praise me
increase my potential
to change the world

I say, give me space
I am strong
I have a voice
Let me use it

If not,
One day
I will escape
And you
will
be
alone