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Welcome

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Make yourself at home. Put your feet up. Grab your favorite beverage and prepare to enjoy the reads.
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Showing posts with label children. Show all posts
Showing posts with label children. Show all posts

Sunday

To the Children of My Heart


An open letter to my "Heart Children"

Dear Ones,

I've adopted you over the years as my special Heart Child. (or maybe you adopted me) Perhaps it is because you have no mother, or have an estranged mother, or have had to develop your own "inner mother". Perhaps you have a perfectly wonderful Mom, and I'm happy for you because of that.

Perhaps you walked into my life alongside one of my own Birth-Given Children, and my heart was captured by you because you brought joy to my child. Perhaps you and I are still in touch even though the old ties with my son or daughter are gone. Or you both may have gone your own ways as your life paths diverged. Perhaps you are no longer in my life either. Whatever the reasons, it doesn't matter. You are still a child of my heart.

You've shared your life and loves with me. It pleases me when you have joy. My heart aches when you are discouraged. Sometimes you've turned to me for guidance. Sometimes you've given me guidance. Though we have this special friendship, it is not always expressed. It is understood. But, I sure do love it when you refer to me as your "other mother".

You know I love my Birth-Given Children more than the world itself. They are my heart and soul. But, Dear Ones, there is room in my heart for you, too. I'm sending you my best wishes and love today wherever you are.

Wednesday

One Step at a Time

One Step at a Time by Lenor Madruga Chappel

Lenor's story of living through extremely frightening circumstances is truly mouth dropping, amazing.

Not only did she face being diagnosed with a very rare bone cancer, chondrosarcoma, but the only effective treatment for her was a full amputation (hemipelvectomy) with surgical removal of her leg and a portion of her pelvis. During a time in my life when I was faced with the same diagnosis, and so discouraged,  I was given this book by my mother. It gave me the hope to carry on to realize a mother with children could not only survive, but thrive.

Lenor's story of how she dealt with her diagnosis, her surgical experience and her positive recovery is more than inspiring.

Though the diagnosis and surgical aspects of her story sound frightening, this book is not gory. It is uplifting and positive. It teaches by example how to get inner strength through such an incredibly devastating life circumstance. Even without facing such medical possibilities, this is a book for anyone to benefit from reading.

Can be purchased at iUniverse

Thursday

What's a Mother to do?

What's a mother to do? When her first born babe dies at birth... When her kid swallows bleach... or overdoses on aspirin? When her 9 year old son has an ulcer, her little girl goes down to the river and falls into the water?

In that last case, she takes a branch from the willow tree and whups her wet kid on the back of the legs all the way down the middle of the street... all the way home.

She is not to be blamed. She didn't know any better. It was the way she was raised, and disciplining a child was common practice back 60 years ago. People did not call social services for such an act. It was the way things were. She never thought twice about it. She had been so worried when her little one could not be found. She had been horrified when she discovered a boy bringing the wet child home explaining what happened. As she chased her kid with the willow switch the fear and terror chased her as well. And she sobbed as did her child.

What's a mother to do, when her kids steal apples from the farmer's orchard? Or flowers from the next door neighbor's garden or items from the five and dime store? She makes the child return the stolen goods, admit the crime in shame and apologize. That one really works well because of the humiliation factor. The lesson in honesty needs no willow whip.

What's a mother do do when her teen refuses to help out with family chores, when defiance, rolling of eyes, slamming of doors, swear words muttered intending to hurt are the behaviours she has to deal with? Mother is at her wits end and doesn't know what to do but question herself, question her mothering skills, wonder what when wrong, fear for her children that they will turn out all right.

What's a mother to do when her children inherit the same disease she has? At first she denies the possibility until it is so obvious it can no longer be ignored. She irrationally blames herself for passing this disease on to her children. She carries her guilt like a heavy sack of coal on her back, especially because they suffer pain and social stigma because of it.  How could she have prevented this from happening? Not having any kids? There was no birth control back in those days. Though the children know she is not to blame, she carries that shame the whole of her life, no matter how much they reassure her.

What's a mother to do when her kids get married too young, have babies too young, divorce so quickly? What's a mother to do when she discovers that her hereditary condition is the cause of her grown up child's cancer. She privately cries and prays all the while believing God doesn't hear her. She sits in anguish day after day feeling helpless while her child lies there. Lot's of things were different back then. You didn't tell anyone about the "C" word. People thought it was contagious. You became isolated and alone without the support and love of your community. You most certainly did not question the decisions and behaviors of the doctors and nurses back then.

Oh, this is not one of those lovely overdone tributes to Mother's Day. Is it? What Hallmark card would sell such a message?

What can those children do when they grow up, but look back on their childhoods and understand the value through having children of their own and see just how challenging it is to raise a child. They can only look back in wonder and awe when they realize mother had so many children to take care of. How had she managed? How had she kept the house clean, the laundry done? How did she have energy to cook meals and welcome her husband home? How did she do all that and still work part-time labor intensive jobs over the years?

Please don't get me wrong. There's a whole lot I have left out. The good stuff and the really good stuff and the sublime stuff. But, that's for another day.

She said, "You will always be my children, no matter how old you are. When, I'm 80 and you're in your fifties, you will still be my children. I shall worry about you, pray for you, hope the best for you and love you forever."

Monday

Reading at the Bribery

Though I read to my daughter when she was a little girl, once she was in school and knew how to read on her own, I began a systematic method of bribery to get her to spend more time reading.

She was a social butterfly and liked to play with friends or watch TV more than read. I knew there must be a way to get her to explore the joy of books without forcing a resentful child to sit through bedtime with mother reading another boring story. Or so, that was my thought process at the time.

The bribery system worked so much better for both of us. No longer would she have a shortage of cash to expend on her heart's desires, and no longer would I worry that she'd never develop a love of reading.

I bought many books from thrift shops and yard sales. Investing in my child's future reading pleasure was worth it. The easy reads, the ones with the delightful pictures, I wrote "10 cents" on the inside of the cover. If she read the book, I gave her ten cents. The not-so-easy reads, with less pictures were 25 cents. Books without pictures, still within her reading level were 50 cents. And books beyond her reading level had a bribe price of one dollar.

Now, you may think this is a perfect system for my child to get money for doing nothing. But, as a part of our pact, my daughter gave me a synopsis of the story or book she read. In the beginning this habit was developed and not too long after, I realized it wasn't necessary. She did not have to prove to me that she had read any book she said I owed her money for.

One night I awoke to realize a light was on in her room and wondered why. I got up and discovered my little girl sound asleep, book still open in her hands reading the story in her dreams.

Once all the books with the bribe prices on them were gone, my plan succeeded. She became a voracious reader. It was no longer necessary to bribe my child to read. After all, she was choosing her own books. And now, decades later she gives me books and makes recommendations as to what I might find interesting. Now, if only I could get her to give me money for reading them!

Tuesday

Happy Birthday, Granny! A Poem.



Granny sits in the chair closest to the door.
She is more than ready to go home.

Overwhelmed by kids running wild,
missing her quiet cuddly cats,
their warmth on her lap,
their sweet purring.

Even Sonny,
the one who growls like a panther,
the one who yowls loud enough to wake the neighbors,
and bangs on the door when locked out,
would get lost in this ruckus.

Granny is visiting at her daughter's house
to celebrate her seventieth,
the big seven oh.
She should have stayed home,
had ice cream with the cats
listening to mellow Beatles music

The other daughter arrived
with more grandchildren.
Some other kids are here, too.
Their friends?

running around being kids, all noisy and wild.
having fun.
Granny wishes she could jump around
and have rough and tumble fun
...and scream

The others are able to ignore
most of it.
90 decibels maybe.
high piercing pitch
sudden like an ice pick
thrust through a block of ice

What will she do with the presents?
Where will they fit in her luggage?
The knick knacks and doo dads,
the shawl and afghan,
the bubble bath,
the low necked blouse and too tight pants.

They must have forgot
Granny needs nothing
she has too much of everything
just give her love.
It's enough.
Really
and maybe
some tranquility.

Granny decides to hide,
sneaks into the computer room
wishing she could email herself
as an attachment.

She is counting down the days
until she sees
Sonny and Cher again.




Elizabeth Munroz
January 2010