You are my sunshine

You are my sunshine,
My only sunshine
You make me happy
When skies are grey
You’ll never know dear
How much I love you
Please, don’t take
My sunshine
Away

I was never “That Mom,” the one who had an extensive playlist of lullabies to sing to my babies. When my daughter was a newborn, the only kid’s song I could remember all the words to was the ABCs.

When she went to pre-school, whenever her class worked on the alphabet, she’d doze off. Her teacher worried that she wasn’t getting adequate sleep at home. Once we figured out the problem, I didn’t know whether to laugh (which I did, to the point of snorting) or feel guilty for having such a lame grasp of sleep inducing songs (which I did.)

My son was born four years later.  You’d think I would’ve put the time to good use and learn some more songs. Nope… I sang this little ditty, or “Away in the Manger.”

At least, I learned my lesson (see what I did there? ABCs… school… lessons?) and didn’t interfere with my son’s education… but I may have given him a God-complex.

Submitted to Skywatch Friday, Season 6: Episode 42

A father’s right

He sat on the curb, legs bent so he could rest his elbows on his knees. A freshly fired pistol, now unloaded and its clip removed, lay on the sidewalk beside him, but out of reach.

Dressed in clean jeans, his most comfortable pair of running shoes and the red plaid button-down his wife always complimented him on, he looked like an average, middle-aged man. Except for the blood spatter hidden in the pattern of his shirt, and flecks of crimson dotting his face, he could be the guy next door.

His cell phone buzzed, but he ignored the noise. The last number he called was showing on the caller ID, but he had nothing left to say to the person on the other end. He said it all minutes before:

“I need a police officer and ambulance at 1212 Caster Street. I just shot someone.”

He was sure his target was dead, but he requested the ambulance just in case. He wanted the other man dead, hoped he was, but another bullet would only make the situation worse. He made his point already, anything more was unnecessary.

This was his last act of hopelessness. All his complaints, all the emails and voice messages, the notes left on her windshield, even hospital photos of ghastly injuries weren’t enough to get anyone to help. If the legal system wouldn’t stop the abuse, then there was only one option left.

When he finally came to trial for the murder of the man he claimed was physically and psychologically tormenting his daughter, neighbors and friends asked the inevitable questions about why he did what he did.

What gave him the right to take the law into his own hands, to act as judge, jury, and executioner.

In her opening statement, his attorney answered:

“Desperation had given him authority.”

Inspired by T.H. White’s “Once and Future King”
“Desperation had given him authority”

Where childhood

When do we lose that childhood sense of wonder and magic?

There is that invisible boundary between believing in fairies and leprechauns, and only seeing bills and piles of laundry.

I told my son recently that I miss those days when he and his sister were little, and we would build elaborate couch cushion forts in the living room. We’d hide under blankets and picnic on Cheez-its and Hawaiian punch, watching hours of cartoons.

Then we all sort of out grew that. They weren’t little kids anymore, they wanted to do more big kid things, mostly with their friends and not mom. I became immune to silliness, almost allergic to it. My funny bone was replaced by a bone of contention.

Fart and poop jokes no longer made me laugh… it was intellectual humor that evoked a chuckle. The days of mud pies and water fights were gone, replaced by more grown up endeavors. I miss more than my kids being young, I miss me being young at heart.

I need to ride a ferris wheel. To be lifted high in the air, where I can see my future on the horizon. A future that includes balloons and bubbles, cushion forts, coloring books and playing in dirt.

Submitted to Skywatch Friday, Season 6: Episode 40

Don’t let the sun set

Hold your babies tight
Say ‘I love you’ every day
Before it’s too late

Haiku Friday is hosted by Lou at LouCeeL

*Photo venue: picnic pavilion, Lion Park, Niceville, FL

Relief came

Hanging from the tree house railing, impatiens swing in the breeze. His mother, standing at the edge of the pine needles, discovered the bones of a child wrapped in a pink blanket.

The Trifextra weekend challenge was to choose 33 words from a single page in Elizabeth Strout’s “Olive Kitteridge,” and reshape those words into a piece of (our) own.

I’ve got a new gig

A while back, my friend Kirsten encouraged me to apply as a contributor to a wonderful collaborative website created by Elena Sonnino, Just. Be. Enough.

Elena wanted to give other women a place where we could lift each other up, encourage and support each other to Just. Be. Enough. To stop tearing ourselves down because we feared we couldn’t measure up to unrealistic expectations.

I was touched that Kir thought I would be a good fit with her, and the other wonderful writers already involved with this community. Shortly after Christmas, I was accepted as a contributor.

Today, my first submission to Just. Be. Enough is online: “Empty nesting.”

Elena asked us to pick three words that would guide us during the next year. I chose Acceptance, Change and Courage.

My role as a mom has been changing these last several months, and I’ve been forced to face the reality of being an empty nester mom. Without the demands as a full-time parent, I’m also facing the changes that involves, and what that means to my own identity. My three words will help determine how I accept these changes in my life, and whether I can find the courage to create a new identity.

Please, visit Just. Be. Enough. and read some of the other inspiring stories from our coterie of fabulous women.

Wild blue yonder

Today’s Blue Light Special is free time.

Time to walk around an empty house without stepping on errant Lego bricks. Time to eat lunch while it’s still warm without tiny fingers snatching bits from your plate.

Time to savor the smoky aroma of fresh brewed coffee, when you long for the greasy, sweet scent of crayons and finger paints.

Free time to do everything left unresolved over the past 18 years, only to find you no longer have the energy or enthusiasm to do anything.

An identity crisis – time to finally figure out what to be when you grow up.

This week’s Studio30 Plus theme is “foam,” and/or “blue light special“

The 100 Word Challenge, to tell a story in only 100 words. This week’s theme is “Crisis”