Flying Light
Today is Little Drummer Boy’s first day of “big school” kindergarten. We’ve been anticipating it and talking about it all summer, and the big day finally arrived. It’s really just one more episode in a thousand new things LDB has been experiencing. When you are young, change seems so much more acceptable for some reason. Perhaps it’s because so many monumental changes in size and communication skills and motor skills are compacted into those first few years, that it really becomes “old hat.” It’s no wonder we seem ready to slow the process as we get older.
Little Drummer Boy was raring to go, all dressed up in his yellow and khaki school uniform and boasting a Bumblebee Transformer backpack–no doubt all he needs to face the big world today. The most energizing factor about the backpack seemed to be the fact that it lights up when he moves. LDB was intent on making sure the lights would show up in all our “first day of school” photo opportunities. I guess something about the red blinking lights amped up the “cool” factor. It’s hard to squelch the light. A realization I’m enjoying at the moment.
The start of school always seems symbolically to represent the ending of summer for me, despite the reality that we’ll likely have at least two or three more months of summertime temperatures in Mississippi. Beyond that, this start of school for Little Drummer Boy seems to represent the ending of his “baby-hood” and his launch into full-fledged “boy-dom.” And although I often tell him “you’ll always be my baby,” there’s no turning back now. Yes, he was raring to go. And, I have to admit that I couldn’t help but want to hold the reigns a little tighter.
In the excitement of heading down the sidewalk toward Sudduth Elementary this morning, LDB stumbled and fell while holding my hand. My heart sank for a moment — a moment ripe with emotions and memories and hopes and a twinge of worry. Will he cry? Will a fall overshadow the fun of the morning? Will this squelch his excitement for the day and this new experience? Little Drummer Boy’s response was to stand up without a flinch and say, “I’m ok. I love you Mommy.” It’s hard to squelch the light.
Earlier this week, the latest American Life in Poetry installment graced my inBox. The featured poem, Fireflies, couldn’t be more appropriate in my mind at the moment. “Lightening bugs,” as we call them around here, are the hallmark of Summertime and catching them is a typical joy for almost any “boydom” or “girlhood.” Little Drummer Boy and Bug have had their share of experiencing the chase and the wonder of these little incandescent creatures. Baby Girl hasn’t had the pleasure yet, but I’m sure she’ll enjoy the experience with her own flair in due time. Even as a grown-up, I can clearly remember that there is nothing quite as giggle-inducing or excitement-sparking as capturing the fly in two hands, peeking into the dark space to glimpse the light and then opening your fingers wide to see him fly away spreading his light into the night sky. That moment is beautifully described in this poem, and it reminded me… There’s nothing quite as exciting as holding their light and letting it go for the rest of the sky to experience.
Last Summer after one of the boys’ excursions in pursuit of fireflies, I recorded one of my favorite Little Drummer Boy quotes. I’ve shared it before, but I was thinking of it this morning. They bustled back into the house all sweaty and filled laughter. They had caught two lighting bugs. And in their inspection, LDB announced that one of them “COULD NOT turn his light off.” If there is any one thing I can hope for Little Drummer Boy as he embarks on this year’s new experiences it is that he CAN NOT turn his light off. It’s a brilliant light that deserves to fly.
Filed under Family + Motherhood, Poetry + Word Pictures | Comments (2)American Life in Poetry: Column 280
BY TED KOOSER, U.S. POET LAUREATE, 2004-2006Marilyn Kallet lives and teaches in Tennessee. Over the years I have read many poems about fireflies, but of all of them hers seems to offer the most and dearest peace.
Fireflies
In the dry summer field at nightfall,
fireflies rise like sparks.
Imagine the presence of ghosts
flickering, the ghosts of young friends,
your father nearest in the distance.
This time they carry no sorrow,
no remorse, their presence is so light.
Childhood comes to you,
memories of your street in lamplight,
holding those last moments before bed,
capturing lightning-bugs,
with a blossom of the hand
letting them go. Lightness returns,
an airy motion over the ground
you remember from Ring Around the Rosie.
If you stay, the fireflies become fireflies
again, not part of your stories,
as unaware of you as sleep, being
beautiful and quiet all around you.
American Life in Poetry is made possible by The Poetry Foundation, publisher of Poetry magazine. It is also supported by the Department of English at the University of Nebraska-Lincoln. Poem copyright ©2009 by Marilyn Kallet, from her most recent book of poetry, Packing Light: New and Selected Poems, Black Widow Press, 2009. Reprinted by permission of Marilyn Kallet. The introduction’s author, Ted Kooser, served as United States Poet Laureate Consultant in Poetry to the Library of Congress from 2004-2006. We do not accept unsolicited manuscripts.
Tues Ten 071310: News Headlines
Wow! A Tuesday Ten post. Yep, the last one made an appearance back in May. Ouch.
I know; I know. It’s been an unreasonable amount of time since I’ve posted anything with real substance, and to be honest, I doubt this one will qualify either. However, I wanted to update the Junksters on some things that have been going on lately. You’re not going to see George Steinbrenner or Afghanistan or BP (well maybe a touch of BP), but they are newsworthy in my world nonetheless. And since I was in press release mode for my day job recently, I decided some EJ headlines were in order. Much of this post could easily have been part of an Oh Happy Day! Gratitude Project report, but I’ve opted for Tuesday Ten since it’s Tuesday Wednesday, and I’m in the mood for lists.
So, without further ado, I give you this week’s Tuesday Ten: Top Headlines in Junkie Land. I’ll go ahead and say right away that I can’t call it “late-breaking” because, I’m, well, late. But, you know me by now and to apologize would be redundant.
1. “Tuesday is Wednesday”
At least in EyeJunkie world this week. Sure enough, I’m late and not late-breaking.
2. “EJ Discovers Guest-posting Rocks”
I was invited by my friend, Annie, over at SisterWisdom to write a guest post as part of her ReDefining Modern Homemaking series this June. I was ridiculously negligent in promoting the series or my guest post, but click on over there and read it. And read the whole series while you’re at it. It’s moms from all walks sharing about how they view homemaking. Good stuff.
3. “Baby Girl Becomes Verbose”
Yes, my planned Tuesday Ten of Baby Girl’s burgeoning spoken vocabulary will need to be bumped up to a Thursday Thirty soon. How has this happened in my brief neglect of EJ? The news of note here is that “cheese” and “sickle” read “popsicle” have been added to the list. That’s my girl! And, you’ll be comforted to know that “No, Mama!” is still a perpetual favorite phrase. The more things change, the more they stay the same.
4. “Gulf Waters Matter”
You may have seen my recent posting of a dialogue about the Gulf oil catastrophe. I submitted the essay to my friend Ann’s Blogger Monday with Ann Evanston weekly roundtable of blogs on Facebook. I was amazed to see the interest of folks outside of the Gulf region in this earth-changing event. So, click over to that article and scroll down to the comments. They are worth the read.
5. “The Queen is Relinquishing Her Throne”
No, not the Queen of England or the Queen of all Media. The Queen of Dux D’Lux, my day job home for 16 years, decided in late May to retire. She opted to close the company, and I’m very excited to see what cool creative endeavors she finds next. Needless to say, her abdication means big changes for my work situation, but I am so grateful for her mentorship and friendship over the years. Plus, she’s promised me a pie.
6. “Little Drummer Boy Steps Out”
Into the big ol’ world. In August, LDB will be starting “big school” for five-year-old kindergarten. Can I get a Kleenex, please? I’ll no longer be the mom of three preschoolers. I’ll be mother to two plus one kindergartener with a Spiderman backpack in tow. I’m sure my processing of this particular event will be fuel for several upcoming essays. At the moment, suffice it to say: “Thank God he still wants to hug me.” I wonder how long that will last.
7. “Haley Jumps Into the Deep End”
Given the advent of #5, I’m pleased to announce that I started my own company this month offering graphic design, website development and online media services. I’m calling this whole shebang Small Pond Graphics, and it’s been quite a leap. I’ve been so amazed by the support and encouragement of my Dux D’Lux clients as well as my network of family and friends. Starting a business is a scary endeavor, but an adventure I’m very excited about. So, hop over, dabble your toes a little and let me know what you think. Also, please connect with me on the Small Pond Facebook page. I’d love to include YOU in the dialog.
8. “Plop! Launches”
So, I’m spreading my writing wings a little more. In conjunction with Small Pond Graphics, I’ve also launched a new design and marketing blog called Plop! You can read the backstory in my first post there, but I hope to use it to highlight the wonderful clients who place their confidence in my abilities, to offer exposure to some of the “creative types” in my life who are using their talents to do cool things, to inspire readers with images from around the design world that are fueling my own creativity, and to share some of my experience and maybe expertise in the areas of business communications and marketing. I hope you’ll book mark it or “follow” it on Facebook and join the creative conversation.
9. “Reclamation is the New Black”
Yeah, had to work hard on that one. Obviously, the structure of my days has changed somewhat with the closing of Dux and the launch of a new business. I’m very excited that I’ve been able to reclaim an area of our house to use for my office space. Something about getting my surroundings settled always helps settle my spirit as well. So, the opportunity to make this space usable and comfortable was very cathartic during this time of transition. I’ve gathered my books, reference materials, design inspiration, crazy packrat files, art supplies and general Wacky Pack nonsense all in one spot. It’s lovingly displayed and arranged so that I have computer working space, meeting space, art/layout space and couch space (which is so important). Enjoy a quick look.
10. “Invisible Girl Returns”
With all the changes and transitions in my life of late, it’s been a challenge to find the time to write here. It’s been even more of a challenge to muster the energy for the soul searching so often required for a quality look inside. Thank you for hanging in there with me. Regardless of the new adventures ahead, I still need this blog as my unencumbered outlet for thinking, paying attention and writing about that process. I’m ready to return. I’m working on some new posts to share soon. The first will involve green flamingos and Nelson Mandela. How’s that for a teaser?
Tues Ten 050410: Drummer-isms Version 5.0
Since we’ve been celebrating Little Drummer Boy’s fifth birthday this week, I thought I’d once again share some of the insight that springs from his brain on a sometimes daily basis. He never fails to make me laugh, ponder and cry all at the same time. I give you this week’s Tuesday Ten: Drummer-isms, version 5.0. AND, I’ve included a bonus top ten list of my favorite previous posts featuring Little Drummer Boy. He’s provided much Junkie inspiration. Enjoy getting to know my favorite 5yo and the lessons he’s taught me!
1. “Maybe that’s the Spanish way of saying it’s as easy as possible.”
[LDB's take on the etymology of "easy as pie."]
2. “Mommy, you’re my best friend.”
[Smile.]
3. “I think I can trust you to pick something cute.”
[On letting ME pick out Baby Girl's clothes for daycare]
4. “My mom said neat-o.”
[Said with pride when Mommy was being completely Mommy at a preschool party. I'm dreading the day that pride turns into rolling eyes.]
5. “I love tootin’ sounds. They make me giggle a lot.”
[Obviously. Sigh. Boys.]
6. “I thought it was dark in there. Maybe next time, if I’m a baby I should bring my flashlight in there.”
[From a discussion about being in Mommy's belly]
7. “There you go again. Huggin’ me.”
[Yeah. Get used to it.]
8. “Mommy, I like your new glasses.”
[Ever the charmer. Steals my heart every time.]
9. “You’re making my brain hurt.”
[I know the feeling, but can I get that with a side of "yes ma'am?"]
10. “Look at them flying, Mommy. They’re like tiny little airplane seeds.”
[On blowing dandelions]
AND Top ten Little Drummer Boy posts…
2. You’re Mine
5. Doo Doo Chronicles: Breaking Up is Hard to Do
6. Gift Tag: Lessons in Dignity
10. Tues Ten 042809: Drummer-isms
Filed under The Tuesday Ten | Comment (0)First Fruits
Little Drummer Boy, my firstborn, turned five yesterday. You can all share a collective sigh of amazement with me, and possibly pass the tissues. He’s my firstborn. And he’s five years old. It’s taking some getting used to. In August he will start “big school” and launch a whole new trajectory of independence. As with every stage, he’s forging the way Bug and Baby Girl will follow all too quickly.
Whether we like it or not, firstborns seem to prime the pump by virtue of their very newness. They are the first fruit of anything (or anyone) else to come. LDB set the scene for pregnancy, childbirth, infancy, and all the developmental stages beyond. He christened me in all those areas. I was wide-eyed in wonder most of the time and hyper-sensitive to each nuance. He formed the assumptions upon which those same experiences with his siblings to follow were based. While I’ve resisted the urge to compare and contrast, it happens. His has been the benchmark by which all their stages have been measured — not in terms of good or bad, but in the way of expectations and the anticipation of growth or change. His has been the benchmark of change in myself, the transformation of woman to mother and all the complicated soul-immersion that title entails.
I named him Little Drummer Boy in this venue because during his toddler years, he always seemed to follow the beat in his own head, and he pressed anything and everything around him into the service of articulating that syncopation. As he’s grown, he’s become less enamored with the perpetual and all-encompassing trap set, and more involved with the typical car chases, fire emergencies and train adventures in which boys are usually found. However, I still notice his beat. It’s the one heard in his plethora of very distinctive sound effects. It’s the one found in his unending toy sagas where rockets and dinosaurs seem to thicken the plot every time. As I wrote in his introduction to the cyber world, I have yet to find it in my heart to call him anything shortened for blog-aging purposes. This particular Drummer is and will always be MY Little and Boy as well.
He was born four weeks early, to the day. Little Drummer Boy’s unexpected birth on May 2 came after some minor concerns during the last part of my pregnancy. My doctors’ good care and cautious natures recognized that the risks possible with LDB were minimal, but insisted on consistent sonograms and stress tests to confirm their suspicions. Therefore, I saw lots of pictures of Little Drummer Boy before he was born. Those sonograms were difficult emotionally. The fear in waiting for results each time was inescapable, even though I knew there was likely no need for concern. They were difficult because they made LDB so real. Yes, I knew he was real. I had felt his early movements. But, in seeing his tiny and newly formed body, I fell in love with him. Completely. It changed me. It changed so much about how I saw things. How I saw Little Drummer Boy, how I saw myself and my life, and how I saw the rest of the world. I think I’m only just now getting past that gripping fear of knowing my whole world was wrapped up in this other new person.
Little Drummer Boy offered first glimpses of that wonder of having another human being formed inside me. The most amazing thing I remember about being pregnant with LDB was feeling him move. I so vividly remember that feeling of having him touching me from the inside. It was strange and amazing all at the same time. And, while I wasn’t overly romantic or existential about this unique womanly experience, it was unforgettable. I can also clearly remember that moment when he was out of my belly. There was such a void there. I was empty, but relieved all at the same time. It brought so much joy to hear him cry and see him and hold him in my arms the first time. I remember those feelings with each of my children, but I suppose they were most poignant with Little Drummer Boy. My experiences with Bug and Baby Girl were certainly no less precious or significant, but their births simply had the reality of not being first. The wonder was still incredibly wonderful, only not the wonder of a first “weaving.”
Little Drummer Boy offered me first fruits… The first fruits of watching my very heart sitting outside my body. The first fruits of love that is unquenchable–by the dirtiest of diapers or the loudest shout of “no” or the most frustratingly tearful bedtime. First fruits of wishing I could control the entire world, but knowing I’ll never be able to do that. First fruits of being sure I’ll never know any greater joy than this moment, only to have the next moment surpass it. He offered the first fruits of realizing this other person, this other tiny soul, is totally dependent on me. The first fruits of dreading that day when he’ll be disappointed. First fruits of knowing, as impossible as it seemed during those beginning years, that he would live to make a wrong choice at some point because that’s what humans do. Firstborn sadness of seeing that wrong choice and knowing I’d give him ten thousand other chances to get it right, plus one more. Firstborn fruit is sweet. And bitter. And utterly defying of description, although I’m desperately trying.
When I think about how small Little Drummer Boy was when he was born and how he just covers me now when he sits in my lap, I can’t believe it. I find myself thanking God he still wants to sit in my lap. LDB is a gentle and curious spirit. He has a big vocabulary, loves books, and loves stories–mainly telling them. He always has a story line going on in his head. It incorporates everything he’s interested in at a given moment, so his story is a precious picture of his heart and mind I want to discipline myself to hear with undivided attention. My Little Drummer is very inquisitive, but also very cautious. He is my child who always contemplates before making a move. He doesn’t always do new things very quickly, but he’s a very thoughtful child. He is quick to say “I love you,” perhaps because I tell him so often myself out of sheer necessity in my soul. He says it without being prompted. He often says it first. First fruits from my firstborn. He changed my life.
Little Drummer Boy, my firstborn, turned five yesterday.
Filed under Family + Motherhood | Comments (13)Five
Happy Birthday, Little Drummer Boy! You completely changed my life five years ago today. I’ll never be the same, and I’m forever grateful for the simple and amazing gift of you.
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