The Power of the Pen

Since the middle of 7th grade, I've wanted to be a writer. I wrote a simple little poem that opened my eyes to the power of the pen. My teacher wanted to submit it in a local contest but seeing as it would shed light on the dark shadows in our family closet...my mom quickly declined. It was a sappy 10-lined subtle little blurb about my desires to be loved by my step-father. Had I known that turning in that 5 point assignment would mean turning my world upside down, I think I might have gladly taken an F.

It was the early 90's, the age of telepathic communication, so my mom left a message at school for me to call her that fateful day. Clueless of my teacher's intentions, I called and she had my head for lunch. I could feel her red-hot embarrassment through the phone. What made me decide to "run away" that day was the threat, "You wait until I tell your father!". Even though it was one of those oldie but goodie threats it came with some fire and yeah, I wasn't about to wait around for that. Fearing I'd never see my 14th birthday I didn't take my bus home and went along with my just-as-fearful friends to a nearby safe place we learned about in a school assembly video. Turned out the "safe place" didn't know the first thing about being safe so they stuck us all in a little storage room with cartons of cigarettes while they called my parents.

Thankfully, it didn't turn out as bad as I'd envisioned (well, not that day) but it did ignite a passion in me for the written word. And my life, well, gives me a lot to write about.

Sorry, The Rent's Late

Ever so slowly, I'm trying to make my way out of the wonderful world of Babyland. Maybe it's because my littlest one is my last one that it's been so hard to do anything adultlike. If there weren't pesky bills to pay, I'd be content just marveling over the walking (and crawling) miracles that are my children.

It really seems like days ago that my 11-year old was a baby. I remember how I'd always carry him around because even then I knew that he'd soon be too big. My youngest is now 11 months and he must get atleast a hundred kisses a day. It's crazy because I'm home with him all day and yet I still can't get enough of that sweet smiling baby face. I've got a camera within reach just so that I can record these precious moments as my memory betrays me. Thanks to Sony, they'll all have their childhoods digitally embraced.

Don't get me wrong, they do and will get on my nerves and I look forward to an occasional night out, but I'm truly enchanted by my little chickadees(which is probably why God blessed me with 5 and not 10 because I'd never get anything done!)