Vintage Slice 31

March 31, 2011

March reminded me to take care of myself.
March reminded me of the power of a writing community.
March reminded me I am determined.
March reminded me my words make a difference to other’s lives.
March reminded me I’m busy.
March reminded me ordinary days are my passion.
March reminded me to let go of unrealistic expectations.
March reminded me to breathe.
March reminded me each day is a gift.

It’s been many years since a month has whirled me around like March 2011. Emotions swirling. Life swarming. Days filled to the brim. Thank goodness I’ve been living like a writer: paying attention to the details;  collecting words every single day; pushing myself to really see life.

Thank you for helping me realize these reminders this month. I needed them. I am forever changed. And this is a good thing. Because life is about growing, changing, connecting, and becoming the best possible versions of ourselves. March reminded me this can’t happen in isolation.

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Vintage Slice 30

March 4, 2011

 

Spring on a grey day.

Today was a grey rainy day. After school and before we went to our friends’ house for dinner Sam and I played outside. In our rain boots (yes, his are on the wrong feet . . . but he did it himself!) we came across this little guy. I am reminded how sometimes hope is hidden among the grey. Spring is hinting and this month I’m determined to find it. I’m thankful to be slicing during this month of change.

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Vintage Slice 29

March 8, 2011

This is where you'll find me . . .

This is where you’ll find me at the end of the day, cuddling with kids, reading bedtime stories. Then they go to bed and . . .

This is where you’ll find me blogging.

This is where you’ll find me reading.

This is where you’ll find me watching crime shows.

This is where you’ll find me studying my devotions.

This is where you’ll find me digital scrapbooking.

This is where you’ll find me laughing with my husband.

This is where you’ll find me writing and writing and writing.

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Vintage Slice 28

 March 12, 2010

After my husband read today’s slice, he said, “It reminds me of my favorite quote when I used to play sports:”

Winning isn’t everything. It is the only thing. — Vince Lombardi

After school Stephanie and I holed up in the studio for a little while. She was working on making a card for her kindergarten teacher; I was creating a mini-album.  A comfortable silence had settled around us. The peace of creating permeated the air. As a mom, it is these moments I crave. Moments carved out of the day which invite conversation. I didn’t have to wait long for Steph to break the silence.

“I can hardly wait for softball to start,” she said as she finished cutting her glitter paper.

“Yeah, I’m looking forward to it too. What makes you excited?”

“I can’t wait to win.” I looked up at her. She continued working, serious about her thoughts.

“Really? You like to win, eh?”

“Oh yeah. I love to win. That’s why I want to play sports. So I can win.” I marvel at her strong personality and her determination. She continues to create her card. “It makes me really frustrated when I don’t win. That’s why I’m glad the snow is gone. I need to practice hitting and catching and throwing. That way softball will be fun, because my team will win.”

I smile, thinking how opposite her attitude toward winning is from mine. “You want to know something Steph?”

She stopped drawing and looked up. “Sure.”

“When I used to play sports, I didn’t really care much about winning. It was just fun to play.”

Steph stared at me, puzzled. “I don’t understand that at all, Mom. I don’t think I would have liked you on my team.”

Laughing, I hugged her. “No, you probably wouldn’t. I’m glad you like to win, though. It’ll help you be a good athlete.”

She looked up at me with serious blue eyes. “And  practice. Practice will help. You have to practice if you want to win.”

Clearly she's been talking to her dad, who shares her belief that you play sports to win. I just smiled at her. Although I'll never understand her drive to win, I will always love watching how this bit of her personality helps her grow into the person she will become. 

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Vintage Slice 27

November 15, 2011

 
The Call comes after my shower, after my makeup, after my shoes are on my feet. If I'm honest, this is the best time to get The Call. The fog is thick, altering my course of the day. Forcing me to stay home for a few hours. Like a rolling marquee the tasks march through my head.
Schedule teacher meetings. Dig through school email. Finish that punctuation unit outline. Make anchor chart for kindergarten. Throw in a load of laundry. Finish packing for NCTE. Schedule teacher meetings...
Then the footsteps. The little guy is up and he has many, many different plans. He has something of his own marquee. It goes like this:
I have a story to tell  you. Let's read some books. Can we play trains? I want to write. How about some chocolate milk? I need to dress up like Tweety Bird. Mom, won't you play with me?

"It's early, don't you want to go back to bed?"

Confusion passes over his face. He doesn't understand the concept of go back to bed, your mom has so many things that need to be done. "No, Mom," he says, "I have a story to tell you."
Deep momma sigh. I close my eyes and push the ticker tape tasks to the side, out of the front of my brain. I gather him up in my arms and I tell myself I won't be able to get these sweet little boy hugs forever. I know, I know, there will be a time when I'll beg him to get up and spend time with me. I snuggle in and he gives me a tight keep-you-forever hug. I'm ready, buddy, let me hear your story.

 

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