I have forgotten
Though it hasn’t been long
How demanding they can be
Diaper, sleep, eat, repeat,
The new mother’s mantra
And with three older girls in tow
Whose needs include swimming
Riding scooters and being read to
(not to mention the daily dose of
Laundry, floor cleaning, groceries
And being a professional chef)
I am forever grateful for two things
In Kentucky summer, Week Two:
one, Bruce is here to save the day
And cut the work in half, and two,
Elizabeth comes home to her every
Afternoon and rises with her at night.
motherhood
No More Birds
she chirps and coos like
a little bird and laughs
with the touch of an angel,
but when she screams and
won’t go to sleep, and fills
her diaper with a proud giggle,
i am reminded of why, while i
love her, am still happy at the
end of the day to hand her off
to mom, to tell my girls to go
to the bathroom, brush their
teeth and hair, listen to a story,
and go (without crying once in
the night) to bed.
The Vittetoe Express
It’s June first (my mother’s birthday)
ninety degrees with a slight breeze
that makes this uphill ride tolerable,
and as I pedal along I catch sight of
our illustrious three-tiered shadow.
First me, silver helmet casting sparkles
against the cracked black pavement,
then Mythili on the tag-along, her frilly
dress flowing behind her seat like a
butterfly waiting to escape the heat,
and then the round caboose of the trailer
with Riona singing Christmas songs as I
shout, “Pedal!” when we come to the
bottom of another glorious hill.
Before we’ve even made it to the park
(the one with two playgrounds, a creek
where Elizabeth fetched the girls’ pollywogs,
a Frisbee golf course and exercise equipment),
we have turned every driver and pedestrian
with gaping rubbernecks bent in our direction, and
I have thought of a name for this silhouette of
bikes daisy-chained to one another in harmony:
The Vittetoe Express, a perfect train of thought,
a perfect train of happiness on this
perfect Kentucky summer day.
This Season
This season I will grow time
pull it out of my sleeves
like magical Mr. Mistofelees
so when my youngest looks at me
with her shy and longing smile
and inquires, “Is today a school day for you?”
I will answer, “No,” and make it
all about her, even if I must wake
before dawn and stow the bike
and put away the computer
and forget for once what
I’m having for lunch the next day,
all so we can sit together on the couch
and cuddle with a book,
sing the songs she loves to hear
from my tone-deaf larynx,
and have all the time in the world.
Races (Raises)
in the midst of this exhaustion-induced chaos.
i attempt to take control,
but it seeps away as the screams increase,
as the moment builds up,
tense block by tense block,
tears dripping down scream-reddened cheeks,
the clutching of toys
that refuse to be shared,
the day giving in to a night that will be
filled with frustration.
i am not one of them
even though my heart races,
my voice incalculably raises,
but you forget this.
soon we are all pouting our way to bed,
our sorrow and frustration
wrapped up with the heavy quilts
hand-sewn with the love that
should be holding us together.
Revolution (Revelation)
Sometimes I wonder what has become of parents and their kids. I feel constantly surrounded by families who seem to think that their children, and their needs, come before everyone else around them. It’s not just the parents of the students I teach—in fact, this is rarely the case. I see it in the parents of kids who are the same age as my daughters. And the more exposure I have to it, the more it burns me up.
It begins with the questioning of authority. Teachers in particular. These parents seem to think that they should be running the classroom, and in effect letting their kids have no consequences for their actions. And if the teacher thinks for one moment he’s going to punish his students for their behavior, he’s got another thing coming. Those parents will go straight to the principal rather than taking the time to set up a meeting with the teacher.
What I would like to see is this: a teacher going into an office of one of these parents. Maybe he wants to read one of the reports they wrote. And when the report doesn’t satisfy him, he won’t make suggestions for editing and revising. He’ll mark it up in red and go straight to the parent’s boss, complaining about what a shoddy employee he hired.
It’s a perfect analogy, really. Is that the way to deal with a problem? To take your angst behind the “perpetrator’s” back and try to get that person disciplined? And what message does this send to our kids? That’s the part that’s beyond fucked up.
Scenario:
“Mama, Mr. Jones won’t let us have our holiday party because he said we misbehaved.”
“Did you?”
“Well, it was half my fault, but the other kids were being naughtier.”
“I don’t agree with that at all. You’re in first grade, and I don’t think it’s fair to cancel the holiday party because of a few rotten kids. I’m going to speak to the principal in the morning. Mr. Jones shouldn’t do that.”
Thoughts in the child’s mind: I don’t have to listen to Mr. Jones. He’s going to get in trouble. We didn’t do anything wrong. He’s the one who’s wrong.
So the next time Mr. Jones asks this child to behave, will he? To do homework, will he? To show respect for authority, will he? Why? What is his motivation? The parents have stripped all authority and respect from the teacher, and their message to their children is loud and clear: your desires, no matter how petty, are more important than the teacher’s rules.
It doesn’t stop there. The parents lavish these children with every possible gift imaginable and birthday parties that cost upwards of $500. They invite every student in the class, expecting gifts (some invitations even specify which type of gifts!!) from all of them of course, and then don’t send out thank-you cards. (There are always exceptions, but they’re rare). And they do this for their kids every year so that the kids come to expect it. It’s no wonder these kids misbehave in the classroom setting (and other settings): they are the center of the world, the selfish, gluttonous world they’ve been raised in.
What is a parent to do? How can I raise my daughters to understand that they won’t have a giant birthday party every year, that when their teacher sends them home with a note that the class was naughty, they’re damn well going to write a letter of apology, that the world does not revolve around them even though their classmates seem to have this impression?
In this consumer-driven, corporate-sponsored society we’ve created for ourselves, we seem to have overlooked some important details about humanity: mainly, that our lives shouldn’t revolve around silly parties filled with cheap pieces of plastic, nonstop gifts, and a total disregard for what is most important—human relationships. The same parents who go over the teachers’ heads to complain to the principal are those who are spoiling their kids in every way imaginable. And while they complain, while they shop, they are missing out on what I value most about being a parent: spending quality time with my children as a family, showing them that giving to those in need is better than receiving, that respect is a part of going to school, and it begins at the classroom door, with the teacher.
In the end, how will they turn out? What kind of adults will they become? Only time will allow this revelation. But at least I can go to bed every night without the guilty conscious of a parent of an over-indulged, disrespectful child. And no matter how hard I have to fight this battle as my children witness this disrespect and indulgence among their peers, I know that in the end they will be better for it, that in the end, we will win the war. Because once they enter the real world, they will already know that it doesn’t revolve around them.
Mother Nature
when it’s a drought we curse the sky
when it pours we curse the clouds
when it’s cold we curse the snow
when it’s hot we curse the sun
if we took the time to see
that weather isn’t the enemy
then maybe we wouldn’t curse emptily,
but bask in Mother Nature’s glory
who, just like our own hardworking moms
gives us her products without any qualms
and shows us that sometimes what’s healthy is wanted
that without the need, we will always be haunted.
so when it’s a drought remember the rain
when it pours thank her for fruitful flowers
when it’s cold think of snow-melted rivers that
when it’s hot run cold into swim-ready lakes
and perhaps next time when the rain wrecks your day
or the snow makes your drive go a tad bit astray,
you’ll remember that it’s all for a reason,
that Mother Nature controls every season.
Mother’s Day
Your lunch, home cooked and hot,
the four cheeses melting together
with the marinara and mushrooms,
the side of beautifully buttered peas,
is as perfect as the first warm day of spring.
Enjoy every bite as we chase them
down the trail, carry them on our backs,
and remember what it’s like to be a kid,
because this is why we celebrate this day,
this first warm day of spring, Mother’s Day.
Release
a pile of bricks behind my back
held with twine that tears into my palms
(blood spilling as it rips the skin,
blood pouring onto them)
i can’t release it
every now and then a brick
will fall from the pile,
forcing me to stop my forward motion,
bend over, bring it back
i can’t release it
a pile of bricks behind my back
held with twine that tears into my muscles
(ripping them apart at the seams,
ripping me apart at the seams)
i can’t release it
every now and then a brick
will fall from the pile,
forcing me to stop, to mortar it
to the wall i try to repair
i can’t rebuild it
a pile of bricks behind my back
held with twine as thin as a line of fire
(burning me up with every step,
burning them up with every step)
i will release it
In This Moment
in this moment
I can find the pace I need to get me there stronger
Mythili can “read” a whole page in her elaborate story
Riona can say “I wuv you” seven times
Isabella can brush her top teeth by herself
and someone on the other side of the world
or right across town
is giving birth to a perfectly healthy baby
while another lost soul is pointing a gun to his head
in this moment
I can hear Alanis Morisette motivating my pedals
my students can see twenty pictures on Google
of the cedar trees they’ve never heard of
the teachers can track me down for brownies
and someone right across town
or on the other side of the world
is pounding a woman’s skull into the drywall,
while another is handing a ten-year-old his first pair of shoes.
in this moment
I will live
I will love
I will remember what I have
what we all have
(somewhere within us)
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