Write a Little -- Description

What happens when you get writer's block.? You can't think of anything to write. You are too busy to form a thought into a cohesive sentence. That is where I am at today as I try to come up with a writing prompt. I want to hone my people description skills this week. This week observe a complete stranger and then write a description.

For example: The slender man's disjointed shoulders curved forward, his midsection slightly bowed like the letter "C" and his puppet like arms swung loosely by his side. His brisk apish walk down the night shrouded sidewalk made me question if there is some hidden secret in that walk, some hidden darkness. Can a person's silhouette mark his character?

Favorite Find - 15 Minutes with My Girl

I didn't really find anything spectacular this week and although my kids are usually really good funny fodder, my funny bone just wasn't in the mood to be tickled today. I did however find something really great today, a fifteen minute walk with my three-year old.
This morning that girl about sent me to the asylum as she picked the worst possible moment to throw a tentrum tantrum. She managed to make her brother and sister and my other two carpool kids late for school just because she didn't want to wear any of the four pants we offered her. She stayed home and helped Tom have a wonderful start to his day as he wrangled her into her bed. Later she left a trail of pee across the house, even after she promised she would have no more accidents. Finally after I spent a good fifteen minutes cleaning up puddles, I decided we needed a break. With her siblings at friends' houses, she and I set out for a walk on her big wheels. A leisurely walk with a three year-old happy to have her Mom finally spending fun time with her turned out to be my favorite find this week. Sometimes we spend so much time looking for the greatest deal or a favorite book or more time, we forget to take time out. My little girl needed some one on one time. I needed to remember why I love her so much. As we made up our own lines to our favorite book "We're Going on a Bear Hunt," I watched my little girl in her pink slippers push her way through a patch of sidewalk invaded by sunflowers. I knew I had found my moment.

Just Words Wednesday

There were actually so many topics I wanted to cover today. I could not pick one. I decided not to get on my most controversial soapbox - sex education and I decided not to go with the least controversial subject but probably most self-indulgent -- a diatribe against people who spend time taking the wind out of other people's sails. Nicole, you know what I mean. Instead I read this interesting http://www.newsweek.com/id/157898/page1 article today about why so many parents are concerned about the educational and behavioral patterns of their sons.

I chose a charter school for my son this year because I was concerned about his lack of desire to learn. Isaac is an inquisitive child. The last two years his interest in school has fallen to almost nonexistant. I watched as Isaac's teachers taught to to the test, tried to keep kids in a box and focus on nonessential things. Isaac missed more than 15 days of school last year due to mysterious stomach aches. He has plenty of friends and so I knew friends were not the cause of what was apparently some stress induced illnesses. I watched and seethed as Isaac was told he could not read a certain book in school because it was above his "tested" reading level. Isaac was the third highest level reader in his class. I was stupefied by the day Isaac was sent to the principal two times simply because he put his hands under desk. One time he forgot to keep them on top. Seriously, who expects boys to sit that still. Luckily kids were sent 24 times that same day due to similar terrible offenses. I practically joined him in tears as we stayed up till midnight correcting math homework that had him bored to tears. If he didn't have every question right he would miss recess and PE. He often missed PE. They told me he kept getting distracted. Yes Isaac gets distracted easily, especially if he is bored. I believe lots of boys get distracted because they are bored. They are expected to sit still and fill out worksheets all day so that they can pass tests that ensure their teachers keep their good standing.
Now don't get me wrong Isaac had some wonderful teachers his first few years of school. He had one teacher I would have given my left arm to have over and over again. But by the end of last year I was so frustrated. The charter school sounded like an amazing option for Isaac.

Isaac is absolutely thriving. He comes home excited about what he is learning. He is given the opportunity to set goals and work on them at his own pace. This week he came home and told me he played a fun division game. Fun at math for Isaac. I was in shock. He wrote a petition to get an extra PE class every week. Over 95 kids signed it. I was proud of his initiative. Tomorrow he will ask if he can go dissect a frog in the science lab and they will probably let him. They have already granted similar requests (under supervision of course) Everyday he has something positive to say. Why? because finally, Isaac is not expected to sit still with his hands on his desk, filling out a worksheet answer by answer at the same pace as the rest of his class. Nobody tells him he can't sharpen his pencil or which books he can or cannot read. He gets to move and learn and explore his world like any boy should.

Rebecca is also attending the school. She is so different than Isaac. She hates change, adores a very structured atmosphere and so the jury is still out on her experience. She does love her Spanish class.

Now this is not supposed to be an advertisement for a charter school, but I do believe as the above article points out that as a nation, as parents, as educators we must reevaluate the learning norm we have set up for our growing boys.

Write A Little - A Season for Everything

I am going to cheat a little today on this post. I didn't do my writer's prompt last week so I had to squeeze something in today. I already kind of did this prompt myself for a church newsletter. But I thought it would be fun. What is your favorite month of the year and why? Write something to commemorate your favorite month of the year.

Mine really is September. We are full swing into soccer and we also get to finish soccer. I love reaping the harvest. Tomorrow I will make salsa with a good friend, next week I will make peach jam with my sweet six year-old daughter and I have three kinds of pesto in my freezer waiting to be added to all kinds of yummy food. My Dad always had a garden and I love being able to have my own little patch of earth to grow things. I also love the weather in Cedar at this time of year. It usually stays in my ideal range of 75 to 85 degrees. To honor my "Write a Little" post I am going to share an essay/poem I wrote about two of my experiences last September.

Communion Lessons
Earlier:
“Stop yelling at your teammates or you are out of the game,” I scold five-year-old competiveness on the soccer field. I grieve the spoiled mother daughter communion. Didn’t I coach so we could remember goals together, run down the field together? I seethe against the stubborn self righteous set of her shoulders. How does the unquenchable drive for victory enflame my sweet little girl? Today, I insist, I’m more than just Mom. I’m the coach of a team full of flapping braids and flyaway ponytails trying to find their soccer groove.

Later:
We take fuzzy peaches from an overflowing cardboard box. Eager five-year-old fingers scrub away itchy film. The peach ritual begins. We plunge orbs from scalding to ice. Hers the covetous task of peeling slippery skins from golden spheres.

She exclaims:
“This one worked beautifully!” She admires rosy blush against gleaming, inviting, golden ripeness. We sneak “taste-tester bites” meant for jars. Proclaim it all beautiful. Set out amber colored peach jar rows cooling on the counter.

I regret angry disappointment on morning soccer fields, wish for more beautiful peach afternoons. Dreaming all our future angry words will peel away to glistening rosy patches of sweet memories sitting like jeweled invitations on the pantry shelf.

Funny Friday - Becca Conversation

I didn't find any thing extra special this week so I decided I am going to do funny Fridays on the weeks I don't get any fabulous finds. Rebecca has been totally making me laugh today. I think all my kids are funny but Rebecca has this kind of twisted irony that laces some of her thoughts and remarks.
Our conversation today:
Me -- Lia, you must have got up on the wrong side of the bed.
Rebecca -- There is a good side and a grumpy side to every bed.
Me -- (already laughing) What is the grumpy side?
Rebecca -- The edge.
Me -- (still laughing) really.
Rebecca -- That is why I sleep against the wall (her bed is against the wall and she does actually sleep right up against it. Now I know why.)
Me - That is hilarious Becca.
Rebecca - You didn't wake up on the grumpy side today. You woke up in the middle.

So my question for you is how many of you wake up on the edge of your bed, AKA "the grumpy side?" I guess today I am not very grumpy and that is why Rebecca decided I woke up in the middle. Many, many days I wake up on the grumpy side. Most days in fact. I am not a morning person. Maybe on those mornings I should just roll into the middle of the bed and go back to sleep.

Talented Thursday -My First Painting

Usually, I like to highlight other people's talents but I promised Trinity I would post my painting when I finally finished. I come from a family of artists. I was always the writer not the painter. I have to say that I may have been selling myself short. I really love art. I just can't always afford everyone else's art. So I practically begged Cali Grimshaw for lessons, which she so graciously gave me. I could never have painted this without her guidance and superb teaching. I learned more on my first day of painting then I did in all of my years of highschool art class. I have so much to learn still but I am so grateful for this painting. I can't believe I did it and that I am not embarrassed to hang it in my house. I'm so excited to explore this new talent and I already have my next two projects planned out, with Cali's help of course. I will never tell myself I can't do something again. I'm even trying to bake bread again and we all know my terrible bread making history.

Talkative Tuesday - Eagle Adventures and lawn mowers

On Saturday while the boys watched the first BYU football game I took my girls and some of their friends to watch a rehabilitated eagle be released into the wild. Unfortunately, this was the only photo I was able to take before my battery ran out. So you don't get to see the beautiful eyes or the bird soaring over our heads or the bird almost knocking down the reporter trying to take its picture. This eagle was rescued by Martin Tyner a wildlife rehabilitator in Cedar. I can't remember if this is the eagle that was hit by a car or rehabilitated to hunt rabbits instead of cows. Eagles that hunt livestock are often threatened by said livestock owners. Martin has had several eagles rehabilitated recently. Next Saturday they are releasing yet another eagle. They released this bird to honor cancer survivors and victims. According to a Native Indian legend an eagle can carry 7000 prayer to the Gods. One for each of its 7000 feathers. Tyner invited everyone to touch the eagle and say a prayer for someone before the release. I of course believe I can say pretty powerful prayers without an eagle but many people still said their prayer with the eagle or touched it. Lia's Papa took her to pet the eagle. It still had its blinders on. I could not believe she reached out and touched that intimidating bird. She has serious panic attacks everytime a fly is within five feet of her personal space. I just really think she trusts her grandpa. You can see him holding her in the picture.

Rebecca was pretty awed by the bird too and a little more afraid to touch it. In fact she refused. The woman that released the bird is a cancer survivor and represents down winder cancer victims. She was such a little lady and it was pretty amazing to see her release that eagle with a wing span almost as big as her. When Tyner removed the blinds the eagle just sat there until Mary let go and then he fluttered down the side of the mountain a ways. Like I said he almost took out the photographer located down the hill. The reporter had to do some serious ducking. The eagle soared above us for a good ten minutes, reveling in the air currents. He drifted off into the distance a speck against the red cliffs of Cedar and then returned and circled above our small party. Someone, who looked exactly like Mayor Rocky Anderson (and Bruce and I are pretty convinced it was him) remarked that he was returning to say thanks to Martin for helping him. We all strained our necks until the eagle was a tiny speck against the clouds in the sky.

Sunday I came down with a monstrous sore throat and spent the day sleeping and resting. Cedar City is petri dish for germs. Everything goes around at least once.

After Tom came home from a half-day of work on Monday, Isaac got to do something he has been begging to do for months. I don't really get the fascination with this event. But then I am not a boy. Tom finally let Isaac mow part of the lawn. I have to say that in at least one way I am spoiled. I have never had to mow the lawn. I don't really ever want to. But Isaac has been chomping at the bit to get his hands on that lawn mower. So Tom finally let him take a couple passes. Isaac was in man heaven. I keep telling him "once you know how to mow the lawn you can never be an innocent bystander again. Someday you will be sick of mowing that lawn because someday it will be your new chore." But he did not care. The best part was his squiggly mow line next to Tom's perfectly straight lines. There was something so poetic about that squiggly mow line. Afterwards, Isaac claimed he was going to use his rip stick as a weight to strengthen his arms so he could push that lawn mower straight next time. Boys, are they not the best? And by the way, I will make Tom teach the girls to mow the lawn someday also. I believe girls should have such talents, even if I do not regret my own ignorance in this area.

The rest of our uneventful labor day was spent touring a few homes in the newly dubbed "Festival of Homes" and playing a round of bowling with the kids. All I have to say is I am grateful for bumpers and not necessarily for the kids' use. Tom's score 158, mine 67. I tied with Rebecca and even Isaac beat me. Must have been his newly strong lawn mower arms. Of course, I was sharing turns with Lia. But really, I am no good at bowling.