May is motherhood memoir month


Growing Pains

Mothering is difficult. And then it gets better. Here’s poetic evidence for Mother’s Day: Yesterday I wrote about Daughter #2, the poet. At the Central Oregon Writer’s Guild this last year she read her award winning poem, and then she read this: Growing Pains Thank you for teaching me to fold things I am still not good at it when it comes to cloth but when it comes to feelings I can sort by color, texture, pattern, And put them to bed in the right drawers Sorted and named and placed All because of you And for dusting the blinds in my room I know you hated it (and so did I) but now I am so good at letting in the light growing towards its warmth even when I’m not sure how clean I am myself I am lighter because of you And for letting me ruin your horsehair…

Of Winning with Daughters

You might remember that daughter #2 won the Central Oregon Writers Guild poetry award last year at 17( She won it again at 18, and I won an award for non-fiction by wrapping a story around one of her poems. It started as a letter to her (see There is a lot of power in reciting someone’s own words back to them sometimes, in the right spirit. Here is the story:                             Such Unkind Things The way your dark mascara dripped and blurred under your eyes when you peeked out from behind your pink blankie made me think of a Pierrot doll, and I asked if you were okay. Your whispered response turned into a sobbing storm, so I encircled you with outstretched arms, and I thought, how much are you willing to put up with? I see…