December 14, 2012

I have been meaning to repost my blog from last year on gifts of writing for Christmas for a couple of weeks now. And I am going to do that today but not without first saying a few words on the horrific events of Friday, December 14. 

I have been watching the news and trying to keep up with the details. I want to know about the children and their families. I want to talk to people about it even though it makes me cry every time. 

Putting my six year old daughter to bed the other night I was simply overcome.  As she drifted off to sleep, her head was rested in my lap and I purposely had my hand on her chest over her heart so I could feel it beating and be calmed by the rush of air flowing in and out of her little body. I stroked her face and her golden curls and wept.

I wept for the mothers and fathers who will never hold their beautiful children again. I wept for their broken families and for the small, happy lives forever interrupted. Since that fateful Friday, I have still been the same mom I was before.  I have been upset with my kids and annoyed with their usual antics.  I have rolled my eyes at the mess they walk away from and yelled at them to stop fighting. But, in the quiet moments, especially with my six year old, I have found myself lingering longer and holding tighter.

And so, because we are lucky enough that we still can, why not take up my challenge of giving a gift of writing for Christmas to let someone close to you know how you feel.  Take a moment to turn your feelings into words and your words into a poem. This year I have included more specific tips (thanks to Nancie Atwell) to guide you along. Last year I only know of two people who actually did this – and they were a couple! I have once again included the poem I wrote for my daughter. I wanted to capture her love of Christmas and how we share that love together.  I still have to write another one for this year and, like you, I have less than a week to do it.

Merry Christmas Everyone!
#26














Tips for Writing Your Poems

 1.       Brainstorm some things about the person you want to write about. What makes them special? What traditions do you share? What kinds of things define your relationship? Remember, these poems do not have to be about Christmas!

2.       How to break (end) the lines of poems – end on strong words (nouns, verbs, adjectives) and not on words like and, the, as, then, etc.

3.       Leads – begin inside the idea of your poem. Poems don’t need background information or explanation. Begin inside the experience.

4.       Conclusions – the ending should leave the reader with a feeling, idea or image. Don’t drag your poem on too long – end it when you’ve said what you wanted to say. Consider the echo structure – repeat an idea or line from the beginning.

5.       Cut it down – “I know a poem is finished when I can’t find another word to cut.” Bobbi Katz. Get rid of unimportant words and ineffective repetitions.

Good luck!



A sampling of gifts written by my students

Torturous Tradtions



                             2010 - full cooperation

Several years ago it became tradition to dress the kids up in their new Christmas pajamas, sit them in front of the tree and snap a photo to include in our Christmas cards. I can’t exactly remember how this started but I assume on some distant Christmas past when the kids were acting all jolly around the tree a spontaneous picture was taken and thus began the yearly photo.  Well, as of Christmas present, I am officially retiring the tradition.

Instead of jolly children huddled round the tree with anticipation and family love gleaming in their eyes, I have one who is too cool, one that will not sit down for more than one quick snap (and let’s face it – I usually take about fifty trying to find the perfect ‘spontaneous’ shot) and only one - my current favourite - who was trying her hardest to make the whole thing happen.

A picture of a picture :) of this year's photo.
I particularly love the green balloon in the background.

This year’s photo was a complete fiasco.  It began with bribing large amounts of candy right before bedtime so my two year old would let me do her hair. Then there was convincing my nine year old to put on his Christmas pajamas. As it was happening I felt like I was watching the scene from A Christmas Story when Ralphie has to wear the pink bunny outfit from Aunt Clara. I will not put him through this again. Then there was me, not at my best, yelling at everyone – even the dogs. (Note: I just went upstairs to get my daughter toilet paper and got sidetracked having a mother-son chat about the whole thing leaving said daughter stranded on the toilet for an unacceptable amount of time.)



                                                      1990

I could see the pain in my son’s eyes as I was yelling at him to sit closer to his sister and look happy for crying out loud. I remember those moments from my own past. We used to have to go for a ‘family’ walk to a bridge where we camp to get a photo of my sisters and me in the same spot every year. It was the worst part of going camping and you can see by my forced smile in every photo, spanning many years, that I was miserable. Why would I intentionally do that to my own kids? Or looking back, why didn’t I just cooperate to make my mom happy?

 

Interestingly, although I was only able to take one photo, it actually isn’t that bad and will probably make it into this year’s card.  And unless all three of my children spontaneously sit around the tree in their Christmas pajamas again, it will probably be the last of its kind. It feels a little sad to grow out of a tradition. I can feel us being pulled away from some of the things we have always done as the kids get older.  But I will not be a crazy person (on this matter anyway) and relentlessly force my family into something that inevitably makes all of us miserable.

Next year, I will look for a picture that captures my three kids as they are – imperfectly perfect – just the way I like them (after I’ve had a chance to reflect anyway).

 

 

1984 - I love these old shots. I have had many
discussions with my mother about this hair
cut she gave me. Even my daughter hates to
look at it.