National Poetry Month: Work Poem

Writing Death, Life, Work, & the Words In-Between was work. And writing it reminded me of all of the work being done by so many. And in that work, there is the attempt to find balance. Here is a poem about breathing in the space of all that work.

How to Find Balance

Up early.

Feed the little one.

Hold him close

and try to enjoy

these fleeting moments.

Breathe.

Get up and shower.

Hope the baby is still asleep.

Eat breakfast with

the not-so-little one.

Let go of the princess shirt

and princess necklace

and princess conversation.

Breathe.

Steal a few moments

to write

a few words.

To capture

and see the world

in all its beauty

and tragedy.

Breathe.

Drive to work.

Drink the coffee.

Start checking off

the list of to-dos

before the students

enter the room.

Smile.

Be kind.

Teach.

Breathe.

Pump.

Because the little one

is still so little

and this is the time

in the day when

you are connected

even though he

is far away.

Breathe.

Return to the to-dos

and the students

and ignore the noise

outside the classroom

that distracts from

the real work.

Pump.

Eat. Coach. Teach.

Drive back home.

Pick up the kids.

Breathe.

Attempt to enjoy

these fleeting moments.

Hold them close.

Feed.

Bathe.

Laugh and play.

Brush and read.

Breathe.

Go to bed early

because tomorrow

is another chance

to balance it all. 

National Poetry Month: Life Poem

Yesterday's poem was a bit of a bummer, I know, so I'll try to lighten it up a bit. While writing Death, Life, Work & the Words In-Between, I learned that I tend to write pretty serious poems. Many of my students write about kale, the Illuminati, pickles, and raisins while others write about death, suicide, and serial killers. My poems definitely lean toward the latter, but this one isn't so bad.

"Morning Conversations"

Spring Day

A spring morning 

still in bed

with all of my loves:

the baby

the toddler

the partner.

A morning run 

after breakfast

under clear skies

still clean 

from the rain

of a few days ago.

A late-morning walk

for coffee

when the toddler notes

“It’s a beautiful day”

reminding you

that it’s a beautiful day.

A long nap

when we all sleep

and dream

and wake

taking a few moments

to reopen our eyes to the day.

An early bath in bright light

that floods our afternoon

and a cool breeze

under cloud-dappled skies

before an early bed time
on a spring evening.

National Poetry Month: Death Poem

For National Poetry Month I wrote a poem a day with my students and assembled a collection. This year's collection: Death, Life, Work, & the Words In-Between captures the early months after my mother’s passing, the early weeks after my son’s birth, and the early days I spent back at work. This week I'm going to play catch-up here on the blog and post a poem from each section. So, for today, here's a post about those last days before letting go of Mom. 

Departures

In the days when your departure

was eminent

but your outcome was still unknown

as machines pumped air

in and out of your lungs

and triggered your heart to beat

I whispered in your sedated ear

I urged you to acknowledge

an impending arrival

The night before there had been the taking

of an unexpected test

and the surprise prospect of a new life

so I hoped this news

might delay your departure

might be something to fend off what was coming

but there was never an acknowledgement

never the happy spark in your eyes

of grandmother-hood all over again

and days later your departure

seemed a cruel trick

with this new life swelling toward arrival.

On the Eve of My 41st Birthday

This will be my first birthday without my mom.

Mom and me :)

41 years ago she cleaned the house. I imagine her folding the laundry, picking up after her three and five-year-old, putting away dishes. She thinks maybe all that activity helped things along, made her water break.

A neighbor came over to watch my siblings while Dad drove Mom to the hospital. April is still cold in Bend and that's what Mom remembers about the drive: that her feet were cold and Dad refused to run a red light.

It wasn't the easy birth the third baby is supposed to be. There was back labor and my shoulders were too wide for the birth canal. But I arrived all the same, on a cold April morning.

Mom was with me for forty birthdays after that. I remember my little kid birthday parties: at the pool or a parade around the yard. And Mom always baked a homemade cake. I used to be embarrassed by these cakes. I thought she was being cheap and often wished for a store-bought cake with thick, white frosting. But now I wish for one of those cakes, or for the cherry crunch my sister and I often requested.

As an adult, on my birthday, Mom always called. She always sent a card in the mail, and sometimes a little gift, something she saw that made her think of me. But this year, and I'm sure for every birthday to come, I will remember Mom. I will remember all of the wonderful ways she taught me to celebrate. I will remember all of the ways she made me feel special. And that will forever be my gift from her.

Back to the Grind

On my way back to the grind...

I’m sure there are things that would have made my return to work easier.

If baby Gabe wasn’t so perfect, his lashes, his coos, his snuggles beneath my chin. That would have made it easier.

If my school wasn’t quite so awful, was cleaner. If my classroom hadn’t been thrashed by the traffic of the one hundred fifty-odd students who traipse in and out everyday. That would have made it easier.

If I had an easy, clean, private space to pump and rinse the bottles and cones with water that wasn’t labeled undrinkable and a refrigerator to store expressed milk until the end of the day. That would have made it easier.

If my schedule wasn’t dictated by the ring of a bell. If I could pump and pee when I needed to instead of depending on the bell schedule or the field trip or the testing schedule on any particular day. That would have made it easier.

If it wasn’t that time of year. Instead of teaching, I am a test proctor, a computer re-starter, a warning bell that your time is almost up. If I was teaching sonnets and slant rhymes, black out poetry and onomatopoeia, instead of watching students tip tap click clack on keyboards and staring at screens. That would have made it easier.

But Gabe is lovely, and so is Kiara. I have amazing help from David. My students are brilliant poets and many of my colleagues are supportive. That makes it just a little bit easier.

So even though it’s hard, even though it’s not easy, I know it could be so much harder. Women are doing everything, everywhere, everyday. Or maybe are staying home facing all of those unique challenges. All I know is that motherhood has taught me what so many have known: this is the hard work of life. 

National Poetry Month: April Challenge of a Poem a Day

Our little April Fool... 

For the past couple of years I've worked with my students to compose 30 poems and put together collections during April for National Poetry Writing Month. This year April begins as I'm still on maternity leave and my students are on spring break, but I wanted to get started so I sought out some resources to help me along. If you want to read or write with me, here are links to sites I'm using to help me write a poem a day this April. 

This first one by Writer's Digest and offers prompts each day (and contests if you're interested).

This one other a poem each day that can provide inspiration (as well as poems from previous years). 

Here is my first poem inspired by Kiara's birthday this past week. 

April Fools

Today passed like any other twenty-four hour day

the dawn light seeping into the sky

and through our windows

and then seeping out the door that night

but today I was able

on several occasions

to imagine myself in a few years

looking back on this day

when she turned three

just two months after he was born

when we were on spring break

groping blindly through the early days of parenting two

and while our children slid around us

with their perfect lips and eyes

with their ten fingers and toes

so sweet and vulnerable

we played fools

the two of us together

hoping no one would notice

our desperate attempts at creating
home

2015 Progress: Writing, Reading, Submitting, Blogging, and Exercising Update

And just like that, 2015, which seemed to just begin, is already one fourth over. It's been a big first quarter for me with Gabe Ichiro entering the world, so I'm already playing catch-up on my goals for the year. Who would have thought that having another kid would cut into my schedule? Well, anyone who has two kids could have told me that and I'm sure they did, but I wasn't listening. Nonetheless, here is where I stand as of the end of March for 2015.

Writing: I want to try to put in 5 hours at the page per week (20 per month). Come on. This seems completely reasonable, but somehow I'm already behind. I did great in January, but once the sleep deprivation of newborn life set in, my productivity plummeted, so I'm at 40 hours for the year, about 20 hours behind. I need to up my average for the rest of the year in order to catch up.

Reading: I finished only 3 books: Thinking About Memoir by Abigail Thomas, To Kill A Mockingbird by Harper Lee, and Don’t Let’s Go To the Dogs Tonight by Alexandra Fuller. I'm 9 back...

Submitting: My goal for this year is to submit work for publication once a week (4 per month). This is way beyond the amount of submitting I've ever done in the past. I've submitted 4 pieces and the rejections are already coming in! Still, I'm behind and need to double up for a few weeks in order to catch up. 

Blogging: I'm back to publishing on the blog once a week (4 per month) and with 8 posts so far, I'm only 4 behind. And for the month of March, I logged the highest readership on the blog in history. Yay, milestone!

Exercising: I want to cover 10 miles per week (40 per month) and while I was very pregnant and recovering from the c-section I took several weeks off. That has me at 54 miles  for the year so part of getting back in shape will be upping my mileage. 

"His Lashes" a visual poem.

So, that's it. I'm not too worried about being behind because I have this little guy distracting me...

This morning David reminded me of a Herm Edwards quote: "A goal without a plan is just a wish." Even though I'm behind on my goals, at least I have a clear plan to get me there.