Happy Christmas

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I'm so blessed to have two, sweet, cuddlers for kids. Both of them climbed into bed with me this early Saturday morning for cuddles. Wonder how long I get this?

My Father's Hands

Reaching down to test the temperature of the water
As I drew a bubble bath for my youngest child
I looked at my hand with the water running over it

For who knows what reason
My heart ached for my father
For a moment I saw his hand in the water

Something so simple and unexpected
That can jog my memory
Back to the vast cavern in which I store my precious moments

His hand gently held mine
Anytime I was close enough
For him to reach and I always let him

His hands were scarred and calloused
They were rough and stained
By hard work and years of wringing

But they were the tenderest, sweetest hands
When they were comforting me
When they were showing me how to do any number of tasks

His hands could mend my heart
After a boy had broken it
Or after a clash with Mom

I will never forget this part of him
Skilled at so many things
Humble, and unassuming, my father's hands

Just set up my BlackBerry to add mobile blog...this is a test!

The Carrot

This year has not been the easiest for my sweet boy, Carter. Fourth grade as proven to be quite the challenge. He is a bright boy, I know every mom says this about their own child; really, I've heard in many a parent teacher conference. Mind you, I don't mean "common sense"; in that department, he is severely lacking. He has never had trouble academically. He taught himself to read the summer before kindergarten, learned times tables himself without the endless drills. I think there are a number of reasons why he had some trouble in the fourth grade.

The quiz and test load this year for him has been NUTS. This week alone, he has EIGHT quizzes or tests. He studies (and we drill him) for at least and hour or two each evening. He KNOWS the study material well before he goes to bed at night, next day when he takes the test, he BOMBS it. I mean, badly. *sigh*

If the grades weren't bad enough, he has gotten a lot of demerits for misbehavior. Other kids in the fourth grade tell me about his clashes with his teachers. The last three demerits he has gotten have been for turning around in his seat. Again, *sigh*.

SO, comes the carrot.
I learned about my son long ago that he doesn't correct his behavior to avoid negative consequences. No, that would be too simple! There must be a "carrot" if you will, dangling out in front of the proverbial donkey, to keep him moving onward toward what he desires.
At the moment, the carrot is the Lego kit, "Crystal Sweeper" from the Power Miners Lego line of products. My mom bought it for him (You won't see me spending $70 hard-earned greenbacks on a toy of 474 pieces.)
The goal was simple: 10 demerit-free days and the Crystal Sweeper is yours!
The "Sweeper" was purchased October 29th. It is November 19th and we are still not there. However....we are at a momentous check-point. (Drum roll, please) 1 more demerit-free day and we are there!!!!
He is VERY excited. I am very excited. I don't want to hear "Crystal Sweeper" ever again after tomorrow.
I can't help but think of Monday, when the current carrot has been devoured, and we are in need of a new one.

Billy Collins

I adore Billy Collins' poetry. His brand of humor is exactly my favorite. I could listen to his reading all night. As a mother, one of my absolute favorites is "The Lanyard"; God bless him.
Enjoy.
Even better is to hear Billy read this one aloud.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0EjB7rB3sWc
Hysterical and touching all at once. So good. "...choosing an image as a 'point of entry'"

The Lanyard - Billy Collins

The other day I was ricocheting slowly
off the blue walls of this room,
moving as if underwater from typewriter to piano,
from bookshelf to an envelope lying on the floor,
when I found myself in the L section of the dictionary
where my eyes fell upon the word lanyard.

No cookie nibbled by a French novelist
could send one into the past more suddenly—
a past where I sat at a workbench at a camp
by a deep Adirondack lake
learning how to braid long thin plastic strips
into a lanyard, a gift for my mother.

I had never seen anyone use a lanyard
or wear one, if that’s what you did with them,
but that did not keep me from crossing
strand over strand again and again
until I had made a boxy
red and white lanyard for my mother.

She gave me life and milk from her breasts,
and I gave her a lanyard.
She nursed me in many a sick room,
lifted spoons of medicine to my lips,
laid cold face-cloths on my forehead,
and then led me out into the airy light

and taught me to walk and swim,
and I, in turn, presented her with a lanyard.
Here are thousands of meals, she said,
and here is clothing and a good education.
And here is your lanyard, I replied,
which I made with a little help from a counselor.

Here is a breathing body and a beating heart,
strong legs, bones and teeth,
and two clear eyes to read the world, she whispered,
and here, I said, is the lanyard I made at camp.
And here, I wish to say to her now,
is a smaller gift—not the worn truth

that you can never repay your mother,
but the rueful admission that when she took
the two-tone lanyard from my hand,
I was as sure as a boy could be
that this useless, worthless thing I wove
out of boredom would be enough to make us even.

The Beginning

I have wanted to begin my own blog for quite some time now. I am glad to finally be getting it off the ground. I thought of making this a blog dedicated to only one kind of writing, but that thought quickly left me. Like me, this blog will be multi-faceted. Some days it will chronicle my daily struggles such as balancing family and work. On other entries, I may wax poetic. It will be as inconsistent as I have the tendency to be. Why? Because that's me. Hmmm...this is beginning to sound a bit cynical. I will lighten up a bit. Here we go.

Today was one of those days. I felt the inspiration to get back on the "Mission: to lose 20 pounds as quickly as possible" wagon. I go through this once or twice every couple of years. I have been successful many times, losing 20 lbs and transforming into a carb-counting, calorie- burning, fitness magazine and book-reading machine.Just as quickly I get comfortable and gain the 20 right back. Now before you mentally judge me, I already know that isn't the best approach to take. A life of balance, and moderation would be the healthier way. It isn't about losing the weight fast, it is about losing it in a healthy way. I know. The problem for me is that when the inspiration strikes, I have to get on the wagon. Otherwise I fall in to this acceptance cycle. I tell myself that I should just be happy the way I am, and live happily eating carbs and exercising when I feel like it. The truth is though, that I am not happy with myself the way I am now. Ugh. I need to be inspired. Hopefully, this blog will help me clear out my thoughts and get myself pointed in the direction of inspiration that doesn't die out.
Have you ever wondered why it can be so hard to start a fire in a fireplace or a bonfire when camping, yet entire homes and businesses burn to the ground accidentally all the time? No one coaxed those fires along with the right kindling, just the right amount of lighter fluid, or fire starter logs. Nevertheless, despite all of my efforts with lighter fluid, and whatnot the fire will very often start out strong and die down just as quickly. A "flare up" if you will.
I need the kind of inspiration that starts strong and grows continuing to burn strong and hot, not the kind that flares up in the beginning and dies. How do I accomplish this? My guess would be that it has something to do with all of the right factors being in the right place at the right time. I suppose those kind of circumstances would require careful planning and diligence. Hmmm...
Perhaps I should take the time to carefully plan and diligently plan. Sounds boring, and slow, but it may be my only hope for a sustained BURN.