Assignment "2

We’re still waiting, the door hasn’t even closed yet, but my nose is running, and I feel a tickle, foreshadowing the event to follow. Now, I’m thinking she should be damn happy I pushed her, cause I’m gonna sneeze and I just saved her from some obscene, discussing, scenario.
In walks Super Mom, with her pastel blue stroller, and a shoulder bag to match. Somehow a woman that makes the effort to color coordinate her diaper bag to her babies set of wheels seems repulsive. Maybe I should push her too, but babies sleeping and I’m not a complete monster.
Ahh Chew, and again, Ahh chew, I turn my head towards the corner, away from everyone, while ran sacking my jacket pocket for a tissue. I feel some coins, a set of earrings, a pull out a half-eaten pack of juicy fruit. No tissue.
I can see my nose spray splattered on the stainless steel wall panel, somehow the image amuses me, perhaps because of the irony of my situation. So I do what one does in desperation, farm method, run my fingers under my nose in a sweeping motion. Then run my fingers along the denim of my jeans for a clean sweep.
The door begins to close slowly, with the three of us and a stroller crammed inside I already feel caustiphobic, and am thankful Super Mom had enough sense to push the button. Unfortunetly, a hand and foot grab the door and it reopens quickly.. A middle-aged man in a blue suit joins us. I don’t push men, somehow even if they’re balding and smell I have a sense of sympathy for them. He enters cautiously and slides himself into the corner, grazing the same steel panel I sneezed on. I watch and flinch, realizing how discussing life real is.
The door now closes with it, are warning bells. We all stare at the number above the door, silly, when there is only one more floor. We can sneeze on each other, cough on each other, but god help us if we look at each other.
The elevator stops, and one by one we pile off. As I’m leaving I notice a security camera right above the door, recording our ride. I chuckle to my self-thinking this footage could be filed and stored for years to come. How absurd.

Where have I been?

So I've dropped off the face of the blogging world. I still exist but in the secret corners of my mind. Fall is in motion, lack of sunshine already setting in. Seasonal depression creeping up on me, throwing me into deep slumber, and day dream.
This year will also be the tenth year my husband and I have been together.
I ain't dreaming about golds and riches, mink coats and diamond tennis bracelets.
I'm dreaming about mind meshing, understanding, kind words and sweet sediments.
In short, yes, I'm dreaming about an affair.
The last few years my womenhood has been buried in a mound of laundry, dishes, and cooking meals. I'm feeling sorry for myself, and not ashamed to say so. I feel cheated and short changed on the romantic ideals of our culture.
Therefore determined to find an affair that can fill in the voids that I am presently dealing with, I enrolled in a writers group. Yes, looking for that kindered soul, who is just as intrested and intrigued but the written word as I. Someone with soft eyes, and a keen wit. Yesterday was my first meeting with the group. So stayed tuned things are just starting to get interesting.

Twisted Events

One day rolls into the next,
day after day.
Then by fluke,
fate,
chance,
or the divine.
A piano falls from the sky,
lightning strikes,
the earth shifts,
all at once. Tomorrow changes, from yesterday.
And like a child, you feel helpless,
scared,
timid and afraid.

The Bleak House

Never being,
never knowing,
only to be given a weather look.
In photo form of anothers chutter,
A tattered view of a bleak house.
Foundations weak,
walls unstable,
weathered wall paper.
Floor boards splintered,
pipes all rusted,
roof leaking, always busted.
I step into this home,
and with tainted images,
I call, now my own.
I look past the sunshine cast,
and toward all but broken glass.
I fail to see, a single flower.
Growing deep within the rumble.
I see a bleak house,
Perhaps if not given,
a photo painted to pursway
I wouldn't see it this dismal way.
A bird perched on the window sill,
chirps sweet song.
And for a moment,
my spirit lifts.
I see the hope, and love in here
amongst the tattered curtians,
and broken door.
Bleak, from bitterness,
from assumption, and tainted thought.
And when I leave,
I wonder, perhaps
I have overlooked
it's simple pleasures,
it's basic strength of character.
It's aging wisdom, and rustic charm.
For anothers tale.
Of a bleak house.

A Funny

Once every few months I clean out and rearrange my daughters bedroom. Today was the day, I do it while she is at school so things can be tossed without protest.
Tonight when she got home she looked in her room. "It looks great, Mom, but why is my bed so close to the closet?"
I stated,"Because I didn't want to have your computer next to your bed."
"I know why you don't want the computer close to me, because I might catch a virus, right." she said with all seriousness.

I laughed, and laughed, "Yep, those computer viruses can be pretty nasty, sweetheart, Tee Hee.

The Stupid Assumption

So I have a three year old whom doesn't talk as much as the academics would like.
My little boy can be vocal when he wishes but I believe he liked to climb inside his head and creat and invent more than verbalize.

Therefore his lack of conversation caused some concern and he was sent for an assesment.
The conclusion was speech delayed.

I avocate stongly to do the best for my children so was referred to enroll him in a special school.
It has now been just over a week and one home visit and I come to realize that silence causes the assumption of stupid. Therefore I am very annoyed by the assumption and the lack of understanding brillant mind can be silent.

During my home visit, I was asked numerous questions.
Can he dress himself.
Can he brush his teeth.
Can he eat with a spoon.
Can he play with others.
After saying yes to all these in which he does extremely well and has been doing since he was two, I got a look of doubt from the home visitor.
As the visit continued she worked with my son on block building. He uses lego, magnetics and other building materials all the time. This is a strong area for him.

Build a tower of ten to twelve high of letter blocks.
He build it about eight high, than realizing the instability of the base decided to build a thicker base to tower the remaining blocks on. To me common sence method to problem solving.
To the assesment lady, not listening and following direction. Blocks only one on top one another.

Next task.
Draw a line.

My son draws a line and another line connecting the original line, more lines connected with circles and shapes. I know from at home his fasination with pipes, husband a plumber. He often tells me hook pipe to pipe so water goes to sink.
The lady again, finds no value in this, put lack of following instruction.

Oh but wait, the lady pulls out 20 tightly stacked containers of the same color. Biggest to smallest. She informs me that most children his age can only work with five at a time.
I tell her to go ahead take them all apart mix them up on the table, I think he'll do fine.
She doubts me and smiles slightly like it is impossible.
A bing bang bomb...........my boy has them all twenty stacked and apart and restacked in seconds.

In closing she says that is the first time a child of his age has ever done all twenty in such short a time.

The lady leaves, I look at my son and say.... those that know everything know nothing and smile.
My bright boy smiles back.

Growing Up

It was my daughters birthday yesterday. Seven. Somehow I am saddened by this age. Three years till ten, six years untill thirteen, and nine untill sixteen. Growing up.
We had her party today as she had a dance festival yesterday, all day. Even her gifts seems so much older. Make-up, jewelery, a tatoo maker. Wow, what happened to dolls, and barbie.
She didn't need me today, her friends and her made their own fun. Somehow I feel with age comes distance and I am saddened by this. Perhaps that is why Mothers carry a heavy heart.