MaMoMeMo
May is motherhood memoir month

Prompts

The Job You Can Never Quit

Fanny Howe never let children get in the way of writing. When I was at UCSD in the late 90s getting a Literature/Writing degree I had the honor of being mentored by the poet and novelist. I interviewed her once for a magazine and she described her writing process as a single mother, children climbing across her feet under the kitchen table as she wrote. The image has always haunted me; children are not an excuse not to write. The condition of motherhood demands that you learn to give birth to someone who won’t last, to love someone who will leave, to teach a person who will suffer anyway, to put a life before your own… To have a job that you can never quit. Fanny Howe, The Pinocchian Ideal. Have you ever felt like quitting? Write about that.

Back thru our Mothers

Was it Virginia Woolf who first said, we think back through our mothers? Is there an umbilical cord that runs through history? How are you connected, or not, through this way of thinking? Does it tie you down… or lend you a life line? Is it a kite on a long string, or a noose around your neck? You get to decide how you think of it, picture it, write about it. You can make it into anything you want, let it take you on a journey or flatten you out on the ground. I didn’t want to be a mother. I fought it for a long time, even after I became one. And that mother-daughter relationship paid the price. But then I got another chance, had another daughter. And then another. And now I wouldn’t trade my motherness for anything. And I’ve made peace with my mother, in the…

Happy May Day-Birth and Rebirth

Have you ever written about your birth? About what it might be like if you could access those earliest of memories, floating and then falling down into the birth canal, or being lifted into the light- however it was you came from that world within your birth mother into this world where the light is somewhat blinding by comparison? You were amphibious, and then you took your first breath of air, and you’ve been breathing ever since. How long did you cry for- do you know? Write about birth today, yours or someone else’s. Maybe you gave birth to someone and would like to revisit that scene in a journal, or use it in a story. Have you written it? There are lots of birth stories and mothers are sometimes criticized for writing and sharing theirs. You don’t have to share your birth story with anyone you don’t want to.…

Permission to Struggle

It’s okay to struggle. painting by L.Lyn Greenstone Give yourself permission to struggle, Char, the Pilates instructor says. She also says things like, it’s okay to wobble. I never see her wobble, and none of the HIIT Pilates moves we do seem a struggle for her strong body, but I trust she knows what she’s talking about. As I take in her words, something settles within, allowing me to focus and be okay with weakness. So I take this bit of wisdom home, mull it over as I write this memoir. I’m struggling with organization, structure, and cohesiveness–all things I shouldn’t worry about right now. But I want to name all 31 chapters, know more about where I’m going, what the stops along the way will look like, and how I’m going to get there. It turns out writing isn’t like that for me. It is always a surprise journey.…

Untangling the Mess

First drafts are messy. We’ve all heard that, but I always think no draft can be as messy as mine. Given enough time, I will restart and restate parts of the story, losing track of what I already wrote. I’ll rethink it until the story swirls around and leaves my head spinning. Finally I have to print it and cross out areas, bracket and draw arrows to new places, cut and paste, with scissors and tape, old school. Actually, I start with my journal, so lots of scratching there too. I wonder how it will ever come together. But if I stay with it, like the bucking horses my mother used to put me on, it finally calms down and becomes something cohesive and wonderful- a great ride, a story readers can inhabit. I live for that. Believe in it. Believing keeps me going. Writing is an act of faith.…

Ode to an Other Mother

Sons #2 & 3 just left to return home to Portland and Seattle. #3 was wearing a Timbers T-shirt. My hub commented that it was a pre-Alaska Airlines influenced logo (he works for AA now). Chase gave me this shirt the last time we were together, he said. And he told the story again that we love to hear, but are sad for too, for Chase is no longer with us. A few years ago Chase called Scott and said he’d be in Portland where Scott was living, interning with OPB, and could they catch a Timbers game together? I don’t have the money for that, said Scott, the starving student/intern. My treat, said Chase. And I’ve got nothing to wear. I’ve got that too. And Chase brought him the T-shirt. It was on loan. Never returned. Worn with a deep sense of nostalgia now. But it is the mother…

Whose Pants Are Those?

My friend thinks I wear the ‘pants’ in my family, but she says it’s okay since the man-of-the-family is not angry. But I see her trying to get at a bigger question, or underlying issue: Who’s in charge? So much comes down to that, the underpants. So I’m thinking about these pants and how they fit– what kind of ‘pants’ are they anyway? Are they Spanx, an undergarment so elastic they suck you svelte, but then slap you silly when peeled off? Or are they more like sweats– loose and accommodating, good for a Saturday stroll or Sunday lounging? Or are they work pants– chino style, somewhat serious, yet unassuming, in traditional khaki-tan so they don’t show spills? Personally, my style is more of a pedal pusher– you can dress them up or down, great in the garden or the classroom, very versatile. I like mine with some stretch to accommodate shape-shifting–…

Self-Regulating Children

Isn’t that the dream? Children who just do what they need to do when it needs doing, and we just get to enjoy them? We’re on child #6 and I have to say, this is as good as it gets. She turned 11 on May 1, and she’s fairly self-regulating, other than the fact that she hasn’t mastered picking up after herself. She makes up for this with a willing cheerfulness most of the time. And by #6, let’s just say we’ve gotten less picky. In fact, according to some of the children who came before, a whole lot less picky. I guess that’s what happens when you get the chance to learn from your mistakes over a 25 year period (#1 & #6 are separated by a quarter century, but same father…). We’ve run the gamut of parenting styles during the last 35 years, but one thing has emerged…

Journal for Your Child

After I wrote The Power of Journaling I got this response (see http://www.motivation.com/posts/48/the-power-of-the-journal) Hi Lori, I read your blog on motivation.com regarding keeping a journal for your children. I absolutely this idea so much! I have a few questions though: How often do you find that you have time to write in it? Sometimes only a few times a year. Other times daily, maybe even more than once a day- not because I have the time, but because something pressing needs to be said and I can’t trust myself and my voice to say it in a way that will be well received. Ideally, if you wrote twice per month and didn’t even start until they were almost 3, by the time they turn 18 you could have 365 entries. As they leave for college you could hand them their own personally written devotional of sorts. I feel so stumped at…

May Day- another birthday

Two years ago today I wrote: My youngest turned 9 today. Halfway to 18… all she wanted for her birthday was a kitten. We have not had good luck with cats for this little girl who loves cats more than anything in the whole world, and she loves a lot of things, mostly animals. She was offered the chance to go back to Wizarding World in Orlando (since we’d bought year long passes last year when we went). “That would be #2 on my list,” she said. No.1 was visiting a vet. Could she see what a vet does and just hang out with him or her for the day? My friend arranged a trip to a llama farm where there are new baby llamas. That will have to do for now. And a kitten. I drove 2 1/2 hours each way to get this kitten. I would do almost…

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