It is Tuesday and time to write a 'Slice of Life." Thank you Two Writing Teachers for creating this supportive community of teacher-writers!
As I set the table for our family brunch, I had this moment of amazement: our youngest grandchild eats with a regular plate, a regular fork, and a regular cup. Everyone has a place setting of “adult-ware.” Wait – when did this happen? We have a bin full of children’s unbreakable dishes and tiny spoons and forks, and no one needs them anymore. We babysit the grandkids for a day or two each week, and somehow I missed this? How long have we been serving them with regular utensils? Right under our eyes, they have moved on. I wasn’t even aware that there was a ‘last time.’
There must be countless other examples; let me think –
all the baby clothes that no longer fit
now they put on their own socks and shoes
they open their own yogurts and cheese sticks
they know how to wash and dry their hands
when I am watering plants, they actually help me … whoa …
When we go for a walk these days, it’s the baby dolls who get strolled – and the granddaughters who do the pushing and caregiving.
Our babies have grown.
I seriously don’t know when it happened, and I wish there was some way to slow it down. Yes, yes, I realize they are still quite little (ages 5 and 3), but this is astounding to me.
From one stage to the next, time passes almost invisibly. No fanfare, no pushing, no demanding, it just happens, in the midst of living.
I tried my hand at a triolet, to hold my reflections –
holding you close
oh my sweet dear one
tender as morning dew
kissed by adoring sun
oh my sweet dear one
life’s magic being spun
beaming light anew
oh my sweet dear one
tender as morning dew
It is Tuesday and time to write a 'Slice of Life." Thank you Two Writing Teachers for creating this supportive community of teacher-writers!
I use my arms as a long set of alligator teeth as Bird sails down the slide, and I pretend to bite her, singing
Alligator, Alligator
I want to be your friend
I want to be your friend
I want to be your friend, too
[one final chomp, with bravado]
This child’s jingle always leads to laughter, as they evade my chomping. I am not sure which early childhood “mentor” teacher (is such silliness “mentoring”?) offered this earworm to me.
I have long wondered why one would be friends with an alligator.
What a scandalous idea to teach children, right?
Wanting to show my granddaughters a photo of a real alligator, I searched for “alligator” in my vacation photos. Google only recognized a sculpture of an alligator from someone’s backyard, taken more than a year ago.
Yet, I had taken several photos of alligators on our trip this past week to the Lowcountry, South Carolina. Where did these photos go?
We came across several alligators. Bounteous alligators. Seriously, at least two dozen alligators, lazing about, as we meandered the island over the course of our week-long vacation. They are everywhere, these dark green mysterious dangerous beings. Everywhere you go, there are also warning signs, big bold letters about ALLIGATORS LIVE HERE and USE CAUTION. Here are the warnings:
- Assume every body of water contains an alligator
- Stay at least 60 feet (4 car lengths) away from alligators.
- Alligators are ambush predators and can move faster than you or your pets.
- Keep yourself, pets and children away from water’s edge.
- Swimming or wading is prohibited in Sea Pines’ waterways.
- Feeding or harassing alligators is dangerous and illegal.
- When fishing or crabbing do not throw used bait or fish parts into the water
I am a cautious person. I am often an obedient rule-follower. I am also curious, especially about nature. I do love to take photos when I am out and about. So I snuck a few photos, when we happened upon alligators. Obviously, very bad images from a scaredy-cat photographer, because Google didn’t even discern them as existing. Let me share them with you.
Here’s an alligator on our side of the bike path, as we turned the curve on our bikes:
Here, we saw several alligators lazing on the opposite side of a lagoon:
Here’s an alligator in the forest preserve (you can spot the warning sign, on the left):
My less-than-vivid photos show you that I was hasty, hesitant, and not hovering over alligators. The only way one can begin to discern an image is through editing the photo and zooming in. I think I will share the image of the alligator sculpture with my granddaughters, so that they might actually ‘see’ one.
Yes, I was unnerved by these sightings. One hears and reads horrid stories about alligators attacking people. Terrifying!
“They” say that alligators will eat anything. When their stomachs are cut open, after they die, there is evidence of trash and leaves and metal and bones and more.
Once, we heard a really loud splash as we studied a turtle at the forest preserve, and immediately wondered – wait, is there an alligator nearby? We hopped right back on our bikes, and bantered as we pedaled quickly away –
I heard their eyesight is limited.
I heard you can’t tell if they are asleep or looking right at you.
I heard they only run straight, so you should run or pedal away in a zigzag.
I heard you should simply run faster than the people you are with.
Alligate-Alliwait
Missus McGoo on bike
Slowing down taking pic
While full of fright
Step too close, pause too long
Irrecoverably
Alligate for the win
Not pretty sight
Thank you for visiting my blog. Clicking the title of any post will open a comment box at the bottom of the page. I love hearing from you.
It is Tuesday and time to write a 'Slice of Life." Thank you Two Writing Teachers for creating this supportive community of teacher-writers!
Our morning playground routine was booted out by rain. This was a steady, welcoming, “let’s sit down and write” kind of rain, if it were any other day of the week. However, a babysitting day means we have to get our bodies moving.
I connected my phone to the wireless speaker and played Laurie Berkner’s “Moon Moon Moon.” I think Laurie Berkner’s singing voice may be my favorite for children’s songs, and this one song is my all-time favorite of hers. This ode moves from gentle lullaby into a jazzy dance refrain.
Just like that, Poppa, Nana, and Bird had an impromptu dance party.
After Laurie Berkner sang, we asked Bird what she’d like to hear, letting her be the DJ for the dancing. She loved this! With an older sister, I suspect she isn’t often making all the decisions. Her playlist was an unexpected (and uneven) melange of Disney princess with rock and roll, moving us in very silly ways. For example,
Disney’s “Let it Go” (floating around, with wide theatrical emotional princess arms)
Proclaimers’ “I Will Walk 500 Miles” (high knees, exaggerated steps)
Disney’s “Theme from Little Mermaid” (fish face required)
The Bangles’ “Walk Like an Egyptian” (stiff arm sideways walking)
The Go-Go’s “My Lips are Sealed” (rock dancing, throw in some squats)
Disney’s “Beauty and the Beast” (twirling slowly, theatrical arms) made my eyes mist, unexpectedly tapping into the memory of my son being captivated by this movie soundtrack; how I loved hearing him sing along. My goodness, time goes by much too quickly. Tale as old as time.
Then somebody bends
Unexpectedly
Just a little change
Small to say the least
- "Beauty and the Beast," song written by Celine Dion and Peobo Bryson
Later, the downpour stopped and we went walking in a misty rain.I was mesmerized by the emerging growth all around.
There is tiny flowering on trees, perennials sticking their heads up out of the ground, and bulbs popping up everywhere. Joanne Toft’s slice from yesterday touched on this same joy, noting the spring splendor of tiny Winter Aconite emerging from the ground. She added excitedly “I have been wanting to draw and paint these little guys,” to which I totally relate. There I am with my camera, trying to capture the right angle and lighting, hoping to get a good image of these first baby changes.
Nature shifts in subtle yet breathtaking ways this time of year. This is how transformation begins.
Thank you for visiting my blog. Clicking the title of any post will open a comment box at the bottom of the page. I love hearing from you.
It is Tuesday and time to write a 'Slice of Life." Thank you Two Writing Teachers for creating this supportive community of teacher-writers!
Bird and I were savoring the warmth of this spring day from the sandbox. Her shoes and socks were strewn on the ground to the side. The sand was clammy and cold, and the three-year-old was fervently working on filling containers and then flipping the molds out. A variety of bugs had taken up residence in the sandbox, during the many months we had left it closed up. I used a play shovel to remove them gently, one by one, at her insistence. The gentle part was my requirement, and I tarried a moment with each shovelful so that she might see these small beings up close in a benign way. They mean her no harm, I repeated, they are just living their lives. Lucky them, finding our sandbox as a nice home away from the winter cold.
All of a sudden, we were greeted by loud and resounding bird chatter, with the most discernible voices being piercing caws from humble crows. Looking up, I witnessed swarms of crows – a murder, as it were – in the air above, wildly circling one another and the winter trees. My glance shifted high into the treetops, madly searching for the focus or goal of all this ruckus, and I saw the branches bustling and swaying, quite literally in motion. It was a scene from a Hitchcock movie, and I stood there transfixed. What in the world?
Here is one snapshot of the crows in the tree
Quick – Merlin app to the rescue, what am I hearing?
Rapid fire pulsating response from the wizard in fifteen brief seconds, highlighting over and over: Fish Crow and American Crow, with Tufted Titmouse, Song Sparrow, and American Robin sprinkled in, once or twice.
What is the difference between a Fish Crow and an American Crow? I need to read up on this; all the crows look very much the same, from this distance. It seemed to me that one large tree held about a dozen wiggling, busy crows, and a neighboring tree held another dozen or so, with other crows flying about, darting between the two trees. All the birds were calling out harshly, creating a huge commotion.
Were the American Crows in one tree and the Fish Crows in the other? Or were they all mixed up together? How do I tell them apart? Was this some sort of argument? Who offended whom? Or were they worried on behalf of someone else? Was someone’s nest being harmed and they were all there to support the injured party? Or ward off the interloper?
We went back to our sandbox play, not knowing any answers. Then, perhaps ten minutes later, all the crowing stopped. It was peaceful again. The trees were emptied now. Where did the crows go? How did I miss their departure?
Think of that adage – “nothing to crow about,” as in, being less than worthwhile. Hmm. I think this is rather condescending to crows. Today’s tumult was very unusual. I have no doubt that there was a real reason for their uproar. They were obviously seeking to be heard and understood, in fact, they were demanding to be.
Clearly, there WAS something to crow about. I just didn’t know what. How do I know it’s not meaningful?
crow full
fish crow
American crow
fuss crow
fume crow
this way
that way
a real crow’s nest
crow over
crow about
swoop crow
loud crow
this is the way
crow flies
definitely something
though I know
not what
A little chalk art found in my neighborhood park.
Thank you for visiting my blog. Clicking the title of any post will open a comment box at the bottom of the page. I love hearing from you.
It is Tuesday and time to write a 'Slice of Life." Thank you Two Writing Teachers for creating this supportive community of teacher-writers!
When my granddaughters (ages 5 and 3) visit, we draw and paint. I keep a small table well-stocked and ‘at the ready,’ with a variety of markers, colored pencils, and drawing paper. Painting together is a little bit more of a production – we do this at the craft table in my basement, near to the utility sink for rinsing all those brushes and wiping up messes.
We go through a lot of paper. Paper, paper, paper, we simply cannot have enough paper around here. I am always looking for ways to make it stretch. I am a scavenger, on the lookout for ‘extras’ – scrap paper at the back side of cards, or cutting blank sections of business mail and other papers, and tearing out the pages at the end of old notebooks and notepads. We like to draw and paint on cardboard boxes, too. A real favorite has been the large rolls of ‘painter’s paper,’ leftover from our home remodeling. We can cover tables with this and draw to our heart’s content.
Just the other day, my poetry writing with Ethical ELA led to a wonderful way to stretch my paper supplies. An inspiration by Amber Harrison introduced me to a fanciful new world: ‘zines.’ I don’t know that I have ever heard of this word before, and I went down a real rabbit hole learning more about these.
The biggest thrill for my granddaughters and their drawing: one sheet of paper can be folded into eight rectangles, and with one simple cut, a small book is created. Yes!! I had to show this to the girls!! As I imagined, they were delighted – busily working on these small pages, creating their own books. They created smaller designs due to the more limited space, and they began to think about their art as storytelling. Wonderful!
I created my first zine as the girls worked on theirs. What whimsical books these can be! I am reminded of the limits and focus of writing into a specific poetry form – I am whittling my thoughts to fit a particular framework. For this first zine, I wrote some silly wordplay we repeat often around here, whenever I can’t remember the word for something…might as well laugh about it. Here’s what my zine layout looks like, unfolded:
Here is my zine ‘poetry’ in a more straightforward fashion –
Whatsis?
by Nana, AKA Maureen
What’s this called again?
That’s a something-or-other.
A thingamajig.
What did you say?
A doohickey.
What’s a doohickey?
A whatchamacallit.
A gubbins.
What?!
A gizmo.
A thingamabob.
A widget.
A doodad.
A thingy.
A so-and-so.
Say what?!
Leave it be, so be it,
I don’t know
The girls laughed when I read this little book to them, capturing our family joke. I am going to play around with this zine idea some more. Next up, I’m creating a zine of healing thoughts to share with a friend who is having surgery next week – just to let her know I am thinking of her.
It is always good to be stretched in new ways – and always good to stretch my paper supplies, too!
It is Tuesday and time to write a 'Slice of Life." Thank you Two Writing Teachers for creating this supportive community of teacher-writers!
On babysitting days, Tony’s always a real sport about driving across town to pick up our Bird and bring her back here for the day. He is more of an early riser than I am; I like to wake slowly – and write. This week, however, I was up early, itching to go. It had been three weeks since I laid eyes on my granddaughters, thanks to the timing of Covid-19 sweeping through both our households. I was thrilled to go, and catch a glimpse of her sister Frog before she left for school.
big hugs, big smiles, we’re together
My eyes watered at the hugs I received. I was half-wishing that Frog could play hooky from school for the day, but that seemed a naughty thing for this retired teacher to suggest. Bird and I watched from the window, waving goodbye, as her parents and sister left for the day.
grandchildren and grandparents: mutual adoration society
Bird wanted to ‘show me a few things’ at her house, so we lingered. First order of business, building a Magna-Tile castle for Elsa and Anna. ‘Elsa and Anna,’ oh my. How many years will this movie have such a hold on children? How many years will I have songs from Frozen running through my brain unexpectedly?
let it go! let it go!
Next, we had to build a Magna-Tile highway. (Magna-Tiles are perhaps my favorite toy – whether home or preschool classroom. Such a clever tool!) This highway stretched from the new castle to Michigan (the girls’ dollhouse).
build and break, think again, redo
Michigan is home to many of Bird’s relatives on Mom’s side of the family. They had visited in early January, a long and memorable car ride for this three year old child. Building the Magna- Tile highway reminded Bird of the need for snacks. I’m sure she and her sister were simply plied with munchies all along the way, on that long trip. So, we searched the kitchen for something fun – ah, blueberry pop tarts! Sure, we can have a pop tart as we build together.
pop tarts and childhood together always
Then she noticed her playdough factory, and decided it was time to play there. I reminded her that Poppa was making her an egg breakfast at our house and that he was looking forward to seeing her. Hint, hint. “I need to pack my princess shoes!” Bird said. (Yes, she got the hint!)
princess dress, plastic heels, let’s go!
We double-checked the tote bag to make sure we had everything we needed for the day. While I look for things like extra clothes such as leggings and a long-sleeved shirt, Bird is tossing in treasured toys: a princess crown, princess gloves, those princess ‘heels’, and a doll or two. Lest you think she is a girly-girl, she finds her favorite toy car and pickup truck. Oh, and the entire large plastic playdough factory, because we have playdough at my house. (Thank goodness for large tote bags.) We also tossed the pop tarts into a food pouch for the drive. Finally, we were ready for the day.
car ride, any length, snacks needed
We had a full and joyous morning at my house, nothing out of the ordinary, just our usual ‘B’ list:
breakfast of eggs, toast, and grapes
baby dolls need regular diaper changes
bright red playdough tea and cookies
building a puzzle together is fun
best solo activity is marker drawing
bundle up warm for the playground
balancing practice on curbs and flagstones
blast down the hill full speed
busy with jeep driving and playscape climbing
blustery wind suggests we head home
boundless energy zapped, stroller ride back
blueberries and yogurt for lunch
bevy of stories, time for nap
bountiful morning followed by quiet dreaming
Truth is – we all three take a nap!! I’m not a big napper most days – but they have become ‘de rigueur’ on babysitting days.
couch curled, sound asleep, midday bliss
This was just an ordinary babysitting day. This was a wonderful ordinary babysitting day!
Thank you for visiting my blog. Clicking the title of any post will open a comment box at the bottom of the page. I love hearing from you.
It is Tuesday and time to write a 'Slice of Life." Thank you Two Writing Teachers for creating this supportive community of teacher-writers!
Last week, I shared that my one little word for 2024 is ‘hold.’ Nine days into this new year, I am having fun writing one ‘summative’ poem a day, some aspect of the day that I want to hold onto – or that I am so preoccupied by, it has a hold on me. (I’d prefer all my ‘holds’ to be uplifting, but let’s be real – life isn’t that way.)
Basically, this is poetry as daily reflection. My poetry is weak/easy, mostly ‘free’ writing with no specific forms being used…I am not feeling especially proud of the writing itself. However, I am excited by how the writing settles me, allowing me to pause for a bit and review my day. It has been a nice intention for the new year – to stop and think about what I want to remember about each day.
I have lots of questions for myself, beyond whether I’ll be able to write a poem a day. I’m wondering if there will be patterns to what I’m writing about, if I’ll revisit the same topics over and over again. I wonder if my poetry writing will improve, especially if I try to write into new and different forms of poetry. I wonder if I’ll feel ‘called’ to edit, rewrite, or rethink certain poems.
For now, I’m just exploring. Here’s today’s poem – from babysitting three-year-old Bird, my granddaughter.
she tucks herself in now
she never wants me to tarry
at naptime
insists I leave
and she unwinds
readies for bed
all by herself
she is growing up too quickly
later
I slip in
to witness
her stir from her nap
she is snuggling
under a blanket
and laying right next to her
its small head poking out
is a plush small giraffe
nestled under its own little blanket
so dear
did she sing
did she coo
did she hold
the giraffe
before its nap?
Thank you for visiting my blog. Clicking the title of any post will open a comment box at the bottom of the page. I love hearing from you.
It is Tuesday and time to write a 'Slice of Life." Thank you Two Writing Teachers for creating this supportive community of teacher-writers!
I have a joke for you, she said.
What do you call a pigeon with a cuckoo clock?
That’s it. Yep, that’s the entirety of three year old Bird’s joke.
She asked me with these big eyes and followed this question with a happy laugh. I looked back with brief puzzled silence, and then I could not stop laughing, it was just so precious and funny. May she never stop telling this joke!
A good reminder – one doesn’t always have to ‘get things right’ to be well-received.
It’s been a week of extremes. This sweet grandchild ended up in the emergency room with a virus that led to difficulty breathing, one of those 4 a.m. horrors that seem a rite of passage for parents. Her dad had asthma when he was young, and sure enough, this was the doctor’s diagnosis. Thankfully, she has responded quite well to the meds, and she is back home, recovering.
Though, I should add – she is not at all inclined to TAKE those meds. We are babysitting her today, and it is quite the nightmare, getting foul-tasting meds into her little mouth…I am not at all convinced any has been swallowed. Trying new and mysterious things is not everyone’s cup of tea!
My college bestie is in town, from Connecticut. C is single and retired, with a daughter who lives here in the D.C. area and who is expecting a baby (a grandchild for C!) this spring. It makes so much wonderful sense for C to move here – nearer to family and friends. C and I have been house-hunting for two weeks, seeing one place after another. Finding a new home (with a limited budget) is overwhelming and exhausting and a wee bit scary, too. Change is hard!
It’s good to keep a sense of humor throughout.
Thank you for visiting my blog. Clicking the title of any post will open a comment box at the bottom of the page. I love hearing from you.
One of the most poetic aspects of autumn, I think, is how the concept of ‘past’ is on full display in nature. Just look at the trees! Here in Maryland, the beautiful fall colors are disappearing, rakes and leaf blowers are hard at work, and deciduous trees are becoming bare.
Transition.
Thinking about forever gone, thinking about burrowing, wondering what comes next.
Both granddaughters have fall birthdays. Unbelievably, Frog has turned five years old. Bird will turn three years old later this week.
How to slow time?
Ah, this is impossible.
So we delight in what we have.
Bird was here for a sleepover just last night, all by herself. We do this from time to time, when we are scheduled for two days in a row of babysitting. Truly, it saves both the grandparents and the parents a lot of hassle – no need to pack up and get children out the door early in the morning, no need to drive across the city to each other’s house twice in a day.
What a treat it is to have this one-on-one time.
Time felt limitless. No deadlines, no pressure, no must-do’s. Making blueberry pancakes. Let’s draw together. Oh, how about paints and glue? Baking sheets filled with playdough cookies. There was a moment where I was a playscape for her babydolls. Another, where Bird, Poppa, and I had a meandering walk to the playground. We sat on a curb and held vigil at a neighbor’s yard, where a tree was being trimmed and a loud chipper shredder drew Bird’s focus. We went for a short walk after dinner, in the dark, to find the moon.
In the early morning, she lingered in her bedroom (right next to ours) to play and chat with herself – something that rarely ever happens at her own home, when there’s a big sister to follow and adore.
Grandchildren – an oasis of bliss in a sad and painful world.
Thank you for visiting my blog. Clicking the title of any post will open a comment box at the bottom of the page. I love hearing from you.
