Showing posts from April, 2011

Silent Saturdays


"That's Not Daisy!" and Other Ways I Disappoint my Child

I remember the days when I could do nothing but dazzle and amaze The Nugget.  Should I make a funny noise?  Yes, please!!  Crawl on the floor after you?  Never get enough!  Nowadays, I am little but a walking testament to the failure of fate in assigning her parents.  Here is a list, no doubt not comprehensive because it would be impossible to list them all, of the ways I am currently disappointing my child:

1.  I am not an artist, Disney or otherwise.  We used to go out to restaurants and she would get the little crayons and be utterly delighted that I could draw the shapes for her.  Circle!  Square!  Triangle!  I was the queen of the world.  She has long since mastered her shapes, however, and wants Mama to move onto more complicated things.  Like Mickey.  Okay, I can draw three circles so she usually gives me credit for this one.  And Dora.  I can do a reasonably good hair and head shape, so, again, I get credit.  That's pretty much it for me.  She repeatedly demands things lik…

RemembeRed #1

This week's memoir prompt was to write a piece inspired by the color red - but you were not allowed to use the word "red" in your story.
      The August sun bore down on my neck and shoulders as I stooped in the garden.  Rivulets of sweat ran into my eyes, my mouth, my ears.  I could feel my skin burning; later we would cool it with a cloth dipped in vinegar.  For now, it was no use complaining.  There were crops to be harvested. Besides, my part of the work wasn’t nearly as hard as my grandmother’s.  I crawled through the dirt, picking beans and peas as I went.  They were then carried to her in the canning house.  She took our baskets, face flushed in the tiny space, and emptied them into the sink before handing them back to us.  Steam rolled from the windows into the Indiana summer.  Humidity squared. Hours passed slowly in that garden.  I often found myself distracted by a ladybug, only to look up and see that I had fallen a half a row behind my cousins.  Scurrying to c…

Beautiful, Beautiful Boy

Three years ago today, I gave birth to my first child, a beautiful baby boy.  We spent several weeks in the hospital trying to delay his birth.  I got to know him well as he grew inside of me.  He was a busy little person.  He loved to kick and swim and jump inside of the womb.  He was very much alive.  My hopes for him turned on the calendar pages as I tried to make the pregnancy last until at least 32 weeks.  We inched by and as the days turned into weeks the tiny flicker of hope inside of my heart grew larger.

Our efforts to stave off his birth, however, were futile.  He was born at just 27 weeks.  My tiny boy went to the NICU.  The staff there were wonderful.  I never questioned that he had the best care available.  But it wasn't enough.  He lived just a few short days.

Today he would be three years old.  I watch my daughter, two, and I am so grateful for her good health.  I imagine who he might have been at the different ages that she reaches.  They were very different kids. …