My New Play Place

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I get to follow Mommy around all day with this cool new toy: it has a long handle and a flat bottom. Mommy usually uses it, so I know I’m being a really big boy to play with it.

Not only that, but there is tons of open space! I can just walk around for ever. I can even walk into a separate room from Mommy! There are stairs that go up and down. But I stay away from them when I see that they are going down; I fell down a few stairs a few days ago and it was very scary!

But there are also these great doors with handles that I can reach. I love to open the doors! It’s even more fun to go in the little tiny rooms and close the doors. These rooms are just my size — Mommy can’t come in — and I I like how dark it gets in there!

But then I get tired of walking around and Mommy gives me lots of graham crackers. Graham crackers make me smile!

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Made in China

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My cousin spotlighted some of the Christmas presents that were “hits” around her house (a million years ago). I thought I’d share too. I shared Paul’s new/old Pooh chair is on his page here. That was probably his favorite thing. But this is my favorite present: a keyboard.

We could spend $35 on a kiddy piano (four keys, bright colors). Or we could get a “Made in China” 54-key piano. We went for the larger variety. It plays 60+ instrument sounds, ten rhythms, and seven “demo” songs. Paul loves the rhythms and the microphone. He “sings” in it. (Which usually sounds a lot like deep breathing.)

We realize it is cheaply made, but we’re hoping it lasts two years or so.

The must amusing evidence that it is cheaply made is the listing of songs on the keyboard. I mean, I expect the manual to lack basic proofreading, but this is hilarious!

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interpretation (for number 1 and number 7): It’s a Small World and We Wish You a Merry Christmas

My Writing Space: A List of Seven Things

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Café Writing January (Fresh!): Seven Things

Give me seven things that inhabit or occupy your writing space. Interpret “writing space” any way you please. You’re not required to explain the items in your list, but it’s more fun for readers if you do.

Note: I’m interpreting “writing space” as I please…

1.       Freestyle

Right stroke, left stroke, right stroke, *breathe*.
— stroke,  — stroke,  — stroke, *breathe*.
str–k,  str–k,   str–k,  *breathe*.
—,     —,      —,      **.
**    **     **    **.

My mind empties once the rhythm sets. 30 minutes. No baby, no crying, no chores, no distraction. My body floats on the water. My arms propel it forward. I think. And then I write. And then I rewrite. And then I breathe again. And again. And again.

2.       My 16-month-old
3.       Lined paper
4.       A ballpoint pen

When my son laughs and looks to me, I smile at him, too. And when he turns back to his cars, I uncover my notepad. Arrows try to direct the chaos, seeking order in the midst of my crossed-out cursive. What am I trying to say? I click my pen and watch him play.

5.       A binkie
6.       My laptop

My son attempts escape from my arms: he knows naptime. And in his crib, he stands, crying and reaching for me, a traitor who removes him from his toys every afternoon. Then I hand him a binkie: his body slumps down into a position of sleep and he rubs his closing eyes. Now he’s silent. I slip out of his room and hurry to my laptop, ready to disorganize the chaos in my mind.

7.       My husband

I hear the cab driving away before I hear him. Then I hear the front door. I close my laptop and greet my husband, the inspiration for what life and love can be.

A Happy Birthday Defined

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Last year, I had laparoscopic surgery four days before my birthday. On my birthday, my husband had to go back to work, so I rested in bed for the fourth straight day, three-month-old Paul on the bed right next to me, kicking and sleeping and otherwise acting surprisingly good. By the time Ryan was due to come home, I was bored from being in bed for days, so I got up and made a very yummy dinner for us. (It was all the more delicious to eat knowing that I could not possibly have a gall stone attack.) All told, it was a nice birthday.

This year’s birthday has been even better. Last year, my (costliest) present was abdominal surgery (for which I was very grateful). This year, my present contains a roof, four bedrooms, granite kitchen countertops, and a back yard. It should be ours as of next Thursday evening, barring disaster.

Of course, it will take at least 30 years to pay for this present, so I guess my birthday presents for the foreseeable future are covered!

My Happy Birthday

This year’s main disappointment was that my husband was out of town. But since I knew this would be the case, I was determined to have a happy birthday all the same. So I’ve been asking myself, what makes a happy birthday?

Last year, I loved making my husband dinner; it was just what I needed, since I’d had a few days of laziness. It felt wonderful to do something for someone else. It felt nice to be productive. I wanted a nice birthday this year, even while alone.

When I awoke yesterday morning, I decided that I wanted to take a luxurious, warm shower in my own shower. As much as I love to exercise in the morning, there is something quite distasteful to showering, changing, and doing my hair in the public restroom. No: on my birthday, at least, I wanted to get “cute” at home.

Then I asked myself: what would I love for my birthday? I decided I wanted to have a clean house. When Ryan’s gone, I get lazy: I leave dishes in the sink; I leave things lying around; I leave messes on the counter. So after Paul ate (or not) his breakfast, I cleaned the entire downstairs. I cleaned the kitchen and the bathroom, and I vacuumed the entire house.

It felt so nice to have a clean house. I kept thinking: what a wonderful birthday present I’m giving myself! And it didn’t feel like work. (Don’t get me wrong; I don’t like to clean. But it felt good.)

Paul was cranky, but as a result he was happy to give me a few minutes of cuddling during Sesame Street. Then we went to Paul’s playgroup for an hour, where he could run around, much to his delight. After his lunch, Paul went down for a nap, and I indulged in reading a little of my novel. After all, I’d already cleaned the house; I didn’t have to feel guilty. Then I frosted the chocolate cake I’d made and  two of my friends came over to help me eat it; one friend has a little boy Paul’s age, so they had lots of fun.

By the time my friends left, Paul had his dinner and I gave him a bath: I love the laugh of a happy little boy. I sang him a lullaby and he went to sleep. I had a little bit of time to write on my blog and then I talked to my husband on the phone for an hour. Sigh. It was as perfect a birthday as could be without my husband here.

What Is a Happy Birthday?

People seem to say that birthdays are a day for other people to indulge you: your “special day” apparently means no work.

But I don’t understand that. Waiting for other people to serve me would have made for a pretty disappointing birthday. I would have been completely alone, in a dirty house, with a cranky baby, and no chocolate cake. And, in the long run, I think that attitude would lead to a pretty disappointing life. Other people can’t anticipate what I want, and nagging them to do what I want wouldn’t be much fun either. (I hate nagging.)

I loved the fact that doing little things for myself (like doing my hair and makeup, cleaning my house, visiting with friends, making a treat) were very rewarding in one little day. And I think that is what I should be doing every day, for that is what makes life rewarding.

I like the concept of birthdays: a special day for each person. And yet, as busy stay-at-home mothers, I think we should treat every day as our birthday: not by being selfish and expecting things of others, but by doing for ourselves whatever it takes to make life pleasant. (Not that I suggest we eat chocolate cake every day, or sit and read a novel every afternoon, or clean the house every day…)

The next step, of course, is then going out and making a difference in other people’s lives. Why wait for their one day of the year?

What makes your birthday happy? What do you hope for? What do you do for yourself every day?

A Short-Lived Passion

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Cafe-Writing January (Fresh!): Timed Writing

Take nine minutes (use all nine, but don’t go over), and write on the subject of short-lived passions. This is a timed exercise and it’s expected that it won’t be perfect. Any format – fiction, essay, verse – is welcome.

I chose to write a story in only 140 characters, including spaces (in the tradition of Twitter).

I licked my lips and considered: a double-layer 9-inch chocolate-on-chocolate cake, all mine. And then my son tugged my arm and we moved on.

Does this interest you at all as a piece of writing? As a story? I am interested in feedback as to how I can improve capturing a scene.

Please note that I didn’t edit it at all once the nine minutes was over.

(Inspired by my chocolate-on-chocolate birthday cake.)

Forties Club

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I was inducted to the “Forties Club” for my entry “The Reunion” (posted here) into the Clarity of Night “Ascension” contest. That just means that the judge gave me a possible of at least 40 points out of 45  for pacing, entertainment value, technical skill, storytelling, and voice. I’m absolutely delighted that I wrote something that someone finds even slightly good in any of those categories.

But here’s my problem: I want to know why. Why was it good? And what could I do to make it better? Any ideas? What do you think makes pacing, entertainment value, storytelling, and voice interesting?