because we all need more love
One of the funniest websites for all things parenting and pregnancy related is Let’s Panic! by the fabulous writers Alice Bradley and Eden Kennedy. I wish I had created it, because it’s like they open their mouths and everyone’s voices come out, except 100 times funnier. Here are some of their tips on “Alternatives to Yelling:”
There are three strands of one story trying to weave themselves together in my head today, and if I were a better or less tired writer, I would not have to tell you that upfront—it would be clear from the writing itself. And since I’ve started off with that unsubtle disclaimer, I’ll follow it by just telling you what the three strands are, even though that feels like handing you the rope and telling you to go braid it yourself, instead of weaving a fine and smooth story, which is what responsible writers are supposed to do.
Continue reading “And Now For Something Completely the Same”
If I had thought last week that I would be writing about rainbows and butterflies, I would have felt immediately compelled to dress in black, light up a smoke, and drink JD straight out of the bottle. That’s my delusional edgy writer persona talking and it says things like, “What is this, the Hello Kitty Blog? The Snow White Blog? Are you going to be posting pictures of yourself with tiny birds perched on your finger and furry woodland animals gathered around your feet next?” And then my you-can-be-a-normal-person-and-a-writer-at-the-same-time-voice says, “HEY! If rainbows are good enough for Maya Angelou, they are MORE THAN good enough for you! So GET ON with it!”
In 2002, Maya Angelou was the speaker at the University of Illinois’ commencement. It was a cloudy day, and all the dusty old Important University Administrators droned on and on with their dusty old words. And then Maya Angelou was introduced. She stepped to the podium, opened her mouth, and her honey-rich voice rolled out singing, “When it looked like the sun wasn’t gonna shine anymore, God put a rainbow in the clouds!” Then she called out into the mass of people, “Good afternoon, rainbows!” It was 8 years ago, but it could have been 5 minutes for how full and powerful her voice still is in my head.
“Like a band of gypsies we go down the highway
We’re the best of friends
Insisting that the world keep turning our way
And our way
is on the road again.
Just can’t wait to get on the road again.”
–Willie Nelson, “On the Road Again”
From what I understand, despite prevailing stereotypes, travel in the old gypsy tradition had a sense of pride and nobility about it. So as I mentioned in my last post, it seems clear that Willie Nelson did not have traveling with children in mind when he wrote his song.
In fact, quite the last thing I felt after our 13-hour trip from Illinois to Niagara, NY was noble. As Sid the Sloth says to Diego the Saber Tooth Tiger at the end of the classic film, Ice Age 1: “You’re traveling with us now, buddy! Dignity’s got nothing to do with it!”
Quite unlike the freedom-seeking spirit of Willie Nelson’s song, being “on the road” with children of any age is like being in a moving prison cell. You have no personal space, the people around you appear threatening, and the food is terrible. The only difference—that you can get out of the car at some point—is really just an illusory difference because when you get out of jail you are free, and when you get out of the car on a family vacation, your family IS STILL WITH YOU.
The most romantic moment of my winter this year was on New Year’s Eve, standing in the bathroom watching my husband try out his new nose hair clippers. And this not to imply that there is no romance in my life, or that the moment itself wasn’t romantic. It really, really was.
We celebrated New Year’s Eve with my sister-in-law and her husband by getting dressed up and doing karaoke downstairs in the family room, which was more fun than I can say. And one of the things I love about being with my sister-in-law is that she has the ability to made life feel like an occasion. She makes the effort. She wears red lipstick every day. She uses her best dishes on a regular basis. She pays attention. The big difference between the two of us is that I am a “Why bother?” person, and she is a “Why would you not bother?” person. It’s very refreshing.
Absolutely the only thing I can think of to say about St. Patrick’s Day is: avoid unnaturally green food. But I’m excited about today’s post because I’ve been waiting for 3 weeks for the opportunity to share this poem by Jack Prelutsky: “I Found a Four-Leaf Clover.” 
Jack Prelutsky poems should definitely be read aloud to children (and adults). He was the Poetry Foundation’s Children’s Poet Laureate from 2006-2008, and his work is a heap of fun (one of my favorites is “Be Glad Your Nose is On Your Face.” Kids love that poem).
But what I’m even more excited about today is that when I was Googling background on Jack Prelutsky, an entry from a grade school in Sheboygan Falls, Wisconsin caught my eye. It’s an essay that a boy named Joey wrote on the poem, “I Found a Four Leaf Clover” on March 16, 2007, and it’s called “A Four Leaf Clover.” It’s a must read, especially the last sentence, in which Joey tells us the reasons why it’s important to know the message of this poem. I’ve posted the link below, so read the poem first, then read the essay. And Joey, whoever you are, thanks for the insights.
I Found a Four-Leaf Clover
I found a four-leaf clover
and was happy with my find,
but with time to think it over,
I’ve entirely changed my mind.
I concealed it in my pocket,
safe inside a paper pad,
soon, much swifter than a rocket,
my good fortune turned to bad.
I smashed my fingers in a door,
I dropped a dozen eggs,
I slipped and tumbled to the floor,
a dog nipped both my legs,
my ring slid down the bathtub drain,
my pen leaked on my shirt,
I barked my shin, I missed my train,
I sat on my dessert.
I broke my brand-new glasses,
and I couldn’t find my keys,
I stepped in spilled molasses,
and was stung by angry bees.
When the kitten ripped the curtain,
and the toast burst into flame,
I was absolutely certain
that the clover was to blame.
I buried it discreetly
in the middle of a field,
now my luck has changed completely,
and my wounds have almost healed.
If I ever find another,
I will simply let it be,
or I’ll give it to my brother—
he deserves it more than me.
Jack Prelutsky
“A Four Leaf Clover,” by Joey, Sheboygan Falls, WI (an excerpt–“The message in this poem is important for others to know because if they think that they will always get they way they will never know that life does not always work the way you want it to. So I think that the message should be told to others”).
Because I have had about enough of myself being a big whiner about this upcoming family trip to Niagara Falls, I made a conscious effort to focus on the positive today. I appreciated the sunshine, I looked around the yard, I noticed the green tulip leaves coming up in the yard, and I was delighted to see some tiny yellow crocuses popping up around the linden tree. “Photo opp!” I thought. “A happy, positive thinking photo opp! How nice!” So I grabbed my camera, knelt down on the grass to get closer to the crocuses, and here is what I saw:
In case you can’t quite see it, it’s a crocus with a Sour Wild Strawberry Jolly Rancher wrapper lying next to it. And this is exactly what I hate about gardening: it lures you into believing that it offers a lovely, cyclical way of being in your life–the renewal of spring, the return of lifeblood to the earth, the time when your senses awaken, blah, blah, blah–but then it exposes itself for what it really is: the fruitless quest for perfection. You might catch sight of something beautiful, but the residue of your past indiscretions, failures, and general sloppiness will still be clinging to it.
I am sorry excited to report that next week is Spring Break here in our part of Illinois, and unfortunately happily for us that means Family Vacation! This year’s debate on where to go was particularly fraught with disagreement lively, partly because support for a real “family vacation” was what my siblings and I received from my parents for Christmas this year.
In a letter recognizing how busy each of our families are, my parents gave each of us a gift that would contribute to a vacation just for our own immediate families, which was incredibly thoughtful. As I’ve mentioned in previous posts, my father is a lawyer, so there was one stipulation—we needed to provide some photographic evidence of having actually gone somewhere (though if we chose to go away without our kids, he preferred that the photographs be taken during daylight hours only).
from the heart 