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Boys and poetry

The princeling and I often talk about stories. Last weekend, I listened to him try to rewrite all of my stories. Every single one. 

While cleaning up some papers, I came across a poem we had started together. I remembered the first line, but had forgotten he had written the second. And now I know why he and I don’t work poetry much. He’s 11. And a boy. And I shouldn’t have been suprised….

Here goes…..

If I had a robot heart,

Would I be able to fart.

Yup, my son has mad rhyming skills.

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Travelling

Today, the princeling and I are going on a trip, in our favorite rocket ship…. it’s time for us to go out and about. On our own. Well, sort of. We’re going to go visit family, but twill just be he and I in the car.

My son can’t remember the times we used to go travelling on our own. Admittedly, it’s only been twice, but still. My child thinks his mommy can’t travel on her own. Which if you knew my travel history is hilarious.

I love travelling with Linda. She’s one of the best friends I’ve ever had. Somewhere along the way, I’ve allowed myself to rely a bit too much on her. Yes, there are situations where I am uncomfortable. But something she said to me on the firstish trip (she ended up meeting me and a friend and ray in monterey) has been ringing in my head. “Why did you bring Her? You’re fine, you don’t need help with the princeling. You’re a good mom and you’ve got it handled”. 

And then I promptly let her handle the travel. Don’t get me wrong, I love travelling with her and T. It’s fun, and we get to talk answer laugh and share heart to heart moments. 

But my son sees me as weak. I write about kick ass women who save themselves and my son sees me as weak. It’s time to write a different story, one that includes travelling with Linda, but also some solo adventures with the princeling. 

It’s al,osteoporosis time for us to cut loose. Stay well my lovelies! 

Santa Mom

I felt my mom close to me this weekend, as if she were with me while I shopped. She was there as I found the special soup spoons she used when we were sick, and the babmoo grippers thingees that she used to pull toast out when it got stuck in the toaster. She was there with me in a tractor supply store (don’t ask), as I started bawling.

I started bawling, the first time, because of a day planner. The year my mom died, she kept a day planner, and used the spaces for days of the week as a sort of journal. The comings and goings of us kids, all grown, and her little trips with dad… all in the little journal. Some weeks were full to the brim. Some only had a few filled out.

Then she died.

I couldn’t look at that blank planner, so I started filling it in for her. Comings and goings, a little glimpse into life right after she died. It was 20 or so years ago, but I still remember that journal. I think I still have it somewhere. But I know it. I know the cover, i know the feel of it, and I know what it looked like on the inside.

And in the tractor supply store, right with all the calendars… was a copy of that same damn planner, only for 2017. Same. Damn. One.

I bought it. I will put it into my stocking, and I will write in it. Buying it means that I now have 2 but one will be for my writing and one will be for my adventures in mommyhood.with my boy.

And then Walmart happened.

In talking with a friend, I told her I don’t know why I’m so emotional today. I don’t know why this is happening, but…

But I’m tired of being the one to do for everyone. I do stockings for everyone in the house, because Mom did. Because to me, that stocking shows time and attention and love. Dad used to do mine, and help with his current wife’s stocking… but since the stroke (and maybe a little before), it hasn’t happened.

I know every single present that is currently under the tree.

Even mine.

And it sucks. Because my son would love to do it for me. And wanted to. But I didn’t think to think outside the little house. But next year, next year… I have 2 different people who have said that they will take him out shopping for me, and help him do my stocking too.

Friends and family are a blessing. But sometimes, you have to stop being so strong and powering through… at least enough to ask for help.

I fell Mom close to me right now. Not just because of the stuff, but because of people willing to come together and help out.

Love you guys.

If you know someone who is a single parent, if the child is old enough, offer to take them shopping for their parent. Both the child and the single parent will appreciate it. Being strong and keeping it together, especially under the pressure of making the perfect holiday is tough.

 

 

One More Book

My son needs to read one more book to get a Library Champion lawn sign. It’s from Sacramento, not our home one… but it’s still going in our yard.

My son has read 15 books since Saturday.

My son, who hates to read, and has consistently struggled with it, has read 15 books.

Since Saturday.

I can’t tell you how proud I am right now. Although, I call myself a writer so I should probably try. It’s a Supercalifragilisticexpialadotious kind of feeling! See! Mary Poppins does have all the answers 🙂

Comics were the gateway, of course they are with so many boys. Once he started reading those, I knew it was a matter of time until he caught the bug. I’m not sure if he loves reading as much as I do, or if it was a competition to get the sign, or medal (there’s one of those too!).. but he did it.

I’m dancing in my chair at the library telling you guys this. I had to share, right away. Because… oh my goodness! My boy did it! So inappropriate for the library (the dancing, not the reading).

Lets hear it for the boy! Lets give the boy a hand!

 

Sadly, Saturday Night

And I’m at home, sitting on my computer, talking to you.

But that’s ok. I like talking.

Saturday nights are almost always a little melancholy for me. My son is off with his father, catching up on bonding time, which is needed. He deserves to know his dad, to spend time with him. I’m not a big dater, tho… and so often the Princeling is my sidekick.

So. And so. Nothing new with single parents out there, right?

Earlier today, the Princeling and I had a blast. We went up to Sac to attend a Kids Day event at Madison Avenue Baptist Church. Lots of giggles, and fun to be had there. I had a nice conversation with the pastor, talking about what I feel is my calling versus what people think I should be doing. (That’s another post— maybe tomorrow)

Then it was the long ride back, and to the mall. We went to the book store, where I buy cards. Yes. I buy my cards that I send letters in at Barnes and Noble. So far, they have the best selection that I’ve found. I may have also found a book or two to keep me company this weekend 🙂  Then we went to Best Buy to exchange his tablet– great customer service there, especially when you consider I had lost the receipt (shopping tip: use your card at this store– they can find your purchase by scanning it again).

But then, after hours of fun time, it was time to drop him off with his dad. It’s a holiday weekend, so I won’t see him until late Monday night. On the way home, I went to my brother’s house and went out to dinner with his wife.

When I got home I took a nap. Sadly, Saturday Night does not call on me to go out to bars, out on dates, or such like it does others. I need a place to go…. you know that Facebook meme, about an all night bookstore? I could go for that. Or maybe a mom’s Saturday Night writing group— sadly not one near me. I could try and start one… but then when I would write to you? And I do tell myself that I will write on Saturday nights… but it’s a lie I tell myself.

Sunday morning. When the world is bright and happy again. I’ll probably go to my library, which is open on Sundays. Maybe down to the river… who knows?

I do know that the Sadly Saturday blues are only temporary. They will fade when the sun breaks over the horizon and I’ll be back to my normal, cheerful self.

For now… I’m going to watch some Disney Movies (Wreck it Ralph currently, then maybe Frozen) and see….

 

Are you a single parent? What parts of it make you melancholy?

 

 

Gearing Up

Tomorrow, the dyspraxic, the agraphobic, and the single mom going through ish are going on an adventure.

For the dyspraxic, I need to remember to reign in my spinning annoyances. Deep breaths, because he’ll pick up on it. I’m also praying that it will not be sensory overload– he ended up in the ER after trying to see Jurassic World, 3D with the great sound system. So… also need to make sure we plan a place to meet just in case. Then there’s the motor skills portion– hopefully he won’t have any major falls or spill but if he does it’s just like at home: Shake it off if you can, don’t let it ruin your day.

I made certain sure my son knows how to pick himself up and dust himself off 🙂

The agraphobic… well, that part’s harder. Because I don’t know what to do for her. I am straight up kidnapping her tomorrow. She said she was up for it. I bought the tickets. It’s our adventure, darnit! But I think she’ll be fine.

I think sometimes that she doesn’t know when I’m falling apart. That I’m full of fear but I’ve gotten really good at hiding it. Well. It’s what mom’s do, right? We carry on, make sure the show doesn’t get cancelled. Clean up the messes, sooth the savages… er… children LOL. But she knows now. Because I told her.

So that leaves me. The midlife crisis person going flipping crazy with what I want to do and what I know I can do and what will test me beyond my limits. But I’m gonna do it anyways. My hair is in the process of being dyed PINK as I type this. PINK! HA!

For me, I’ve already started running what I need to do for tomorrow. I wanted my hair done for the Willie Wonka Sing Along because really? If you’re going to do it, you need it for that! Clothes are in the dryer.I know where the tickets are, I emailed the box office and they were kind enough to send me lots of information and really great directions.

I’ll pop a note book in my bag. Because the people I’m travelling with know, without a doubt: Wynwords will Write about it.

Ta, my lovelies! I’ll speak  with you soon!

Gender in Writing

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My son is all boy. He loves to run, ride his bike, play video games and go exploring. Over the New Year break, we went to see a movie. I expected him to throw a fit because it was the new version Annie. There were people between he & I, and what I saw every time I looked was my boy with his feet up on the chair in front of him, a fierce look on his face.

He loved it.

Now, when he takes a hit in daily life he says “It’s a hard knock life, huh, Momma?”

Yesterday, we went to the movies for my (still upcoming) birthday. He wanted to see Home (which isn’t out yet), I wanted to see Cinderella. His beef with Cinderella wasn’t that it was a girls movie (Home has a female protagonist as well), it was that Home was about real life, a real girl, mom! (Never mind the lavender alien and the flying cars). Turns out he loved Cinderella, too.

I don’t think I’ve been entirely fair with my son, at least in terms of movies. He has proven that he sees them as movies– not for girls, not for boys… just movies.

And the same goes for television, btw. He used to watch Sophia the First. He quit not because it was a girl’s show, but because he outgrew it. He will watch Monster High.

Then I started thinking about Legos. Maybe instead of trying to have a line specifically for girls (Except the Disney Princess– keep those!), they should try being more inclusive with in their sets. Adding women/girls isn’t that hard.

So now we get to the beast of the matter. The reason all these thoughts started popping through the percolator is that the story I’m working on, if I write it, will be almost entirely from a male point of view. I know women writers can do it, I’ve read them for crying out loud (Robin Hobb, Mercedes Lackey). But… the question becomes, can I?

In my last point, I talked of writers stretching their voice. Trying new things even if it was scary. I think this is the nextscary for me. Although…. Based on my son’s taste in entertainment, maybe it’s not that scary.

I’ll let you know.

What  are you working on in your writing to stretch yourself? What’s scaring you as a writer about the story?