Jumping Through . . .

This is my post for Poetry Thursday -- in true "me" fashion it's being posted on Friday. I have, in my defense, been busy making deadlines on things I'm actually getting paid for. And I like food and clothing. So, at any rate, a dashed off blurb of a poem (no fine crafting here) -- more like advice, using Poetry Thursday's (completely and totally optional) prompt, "an open window."

Jumping through
An open window
Is not recommended.

But more so
Than jumping through
A closed one.

O-R-E-O

Evidence that my child is the best kid ever:

When she eats an Oreo, she eats the cookie parts, and gives me the cream filling.

She also has an Oreo song:

"When milk wants a cookie, it says O-R-E-O. Oooorrreeeooo."

Having kids rocks.

Yes, You Can Has Cheezburger

Again, slow on the uptake, but this is my new favorite place to go. Escapism is a wonderful thing. And it makes my son laugh that really hilarious laugh, the one that's uncontrollable and completely contagious.

My cats don't get it, though. Go figure.

De-Funct

Leave it to me to jump on the bandwagon just before it pulls into the parking lot for good.

Poetry Thursday, it seems, is ending.

The project, which has been in existence since February 2006, and of which I've been aware for at least four months or so, is drawing to a close. I suppose it's only natural for such an experiment to have a shelf-life. Revolution, even that of the smallest proportions, becomes rote with repetition. Nice alliteration, eh? I've still got it.

Any-hoo, there is one last Poetry Thursday on the docket, and I encourage all three of you who are reading this (potentially) to mosey on over to their site on Aug. 30. and add your two cents. The (completely and totally optional) idea they've given as a prompt is "an open window." Or you can just post a poem about whatever. But do participate.

It also seems that there will momentarily be an announcement about their next community poetry project. I fully intend to jump in on the front edge of this one. Because poetry is under-rated, under-appreciated, under-written, and under-read. And it's my first true love.

So join me, won't you? It'll be fun.

Poetry Thursday

In a half-hearted effort to refocus a tiny portion of my energy to creative writing, I've decided to take part in Poetry Thursday's, well, Poetry Thursday. So here goes:

An Inventory of You and Me

I am a little bit elliptical,
obtuse when it comes to you,
a silver service missing
the odd knife and spoon.
I linger over you intentionally
and catalogue your every look.
I am angular in my appreciation of you,
deliberate, and skeletal.

You are contrite and formulated,
a short order for the lunch hour.
You make notes instead of sleeping.
You are remiss to pick out patterns,
reluctant for the walls.
You grow fatter with each word I render,
a nominal fee for your appearance.

We exist in overlapping circles;
mine a saucer,
yours a dervish.

Open Wide

I'm not sure what to make of this, but I'm hearing about a connection between ADD and, of all things, tonsils.

The latest (and actually, it turns out this may have been out there for awhile), is that some studies are showing that children who have been diagnosed with ADD or ADHD, and then have tonsils and/or adenoids removed, are later found to be free of symptoms.

What frightens me a bit is tendency to leap to this conclusion: that tonsil removal is a "cure" for ADD (check out this FoxNews report, for example). It seems to me, however, that what this really means is that some kids with sleep disorders (caused by problems with their tonsils or adenoids) are being erroneously diagnosed with ADD in the first place.

This also says to me that, perhaps, the "mysterious" increase in incidence of ADD in the last 25 years could be chalked up to a number of things, one of which might be undiagnosed sleep disorders. Remember, up until 25 or 30 years ago, most kids got their tonsils removed as a matter of course. My older brother did, but a couple years later, when it would have been my turn, doctors were saying not to bother.

I've endured years of strep and excruciating bouts of tonsilitis, thanks to that, but that's another story . . .

Regardless, as a woman married to a guy with adult ADD (thank goodness for Concerta!) and a son who shows occasional signs of the same, I wonder how to incorporate this new information into my already tangled web of understanding.

Any thoughts?

For more on this topic, read here and here.

Back to Reality

This is it. Summer is officially over.

Despite the fact that it's only mid-August. Despite the fact that the temperatures will hover in the mid-90s all week long.

Today, the kids went back to school.

For a lot of moms, this is cause for celebration. It seems to appear a lot in editorial cartoons this time of year, the circle of soccer moms chillin' over coffee and thrillin' over the fact that their brethren have been dispatched, once more, to the hallowed halls of knowledge. Away from them. For eight hours a day. Yippee!

I, however, am not one of those moms.

Perhaps it's because I've worked outside the home for most of my kids lives. The summer has always been a chance to spend more time with them just having fun, rather than nagging over homework and trashed rooms while rushing to (pick one, or mix and match: cook dinner, throw in some laundry, feed the pets, vacuum the living room, mow the lawn) before dark.

Perhaps it's because we've moved them a couple of times, and this is one of the years where they're both starting over. New town, new school, new kid on the block. I did that a bunch growing up, and I know what it feels like. It's tough. Especially in middle school, where my seventh grade daughter is right now, having to make the traumatic switch to middle school all over again after starting in Florida last year.

Perhaps it's because I just like them so darn much, that I actually miss them when they're gone.

This year there's something else, too: back to school for the kids means that it's now time for me to really figure out what I'm doing here. We're settled in from the move. The house is set. The kids are feeling at home. We have a routine. So now what?

Am I going to be able to get more writing jobs? Am I going to have to break down and substitute a whole lot more than I originally wanted to? Am I going to make the leap and go back to school for my Master's?

And am I ever going to get this dag-nabbin' house clean?

On the one hand, this is the first "first day of school" in years that I've been able to just concentrate on getting my kids ready and not worry about getting myself ready to go to work as well. What a relief. On the other hand, I don't really have a job, so it's time for an existential crisis (and perhaps a financial one as well).

So this is my plan: Take a deep breath. Have some coffee. Make that phone call interview for an article I actually do have an assignment for. And see what happens next.