June 14, 2007 and my baby boy is 5. How did this happen so fast? I'm amazed at the pace of my life since I have had children. It is unbelievable! I want to hold on to this time for a little longer; savor it; take advantage of it better; but it is not to be. It just keeps blowing by and I know there will soon be a day when I wonder, "How could I have not enjoyed that moment more instead of worrying about the house or finances or laundry?" It is impossible to know how to separate the two some days when you feel such a need to get things done and keep order, but I fear if I don't find a way to even this thing out, I will feel a lot of regret. Usually during my kids birthdays, I am so busy planning and organizing and putting things together and MAKING EVERYTHING RIGHT, that I miss it! I have so few pictures of me with my kids on their birthdays that it is just a shame! This time I have done little planning and it will be very simple and we'll see. But I KNOW that I will take lots of pictures with my sweet boy and kiss him and remember how it felt for him to turn five and he will remember it, too, and that his momma LOVES THE FIRE OUT OF HIM! And I do! I look at him and how tall he is and how grown up he is getting and I want to bawl! He is almost too tall and heavy to hold now. Good thing my tubes are tied, ya'll! My arms will be aching for a little one before too much longer. Princess Adeline is on hand now, though when I need a baby fix!
On Friday, while I was trying to get ready to hit the road for Jackson and get the kids to the sitter, cutest boy asked me to watch him do his Spiderman trick, which involved climbing up the side of my suede couch with his shoes on. After establishing this as a bad idea, I again tried, unsuccessfully to get ready while he followed me around and tried to show me all his Spidey tricks. Finally, exasperated, I told him, "Honey, momma HAS to get ready to go; can you just hold on for just a little while, so I can get us ready?"
"Sure!" cutest boy replied. Then he waved to the couch and said, "But I'll be right here whenever you're ready to talk, okay!?"
Ouch! I cannot express how hard it feels to me somedays to be his mother, because he has the ability to cut me right to the core with THE TRUTH!!!! All my priorities just get stripped away in about 2 seconds flat!!!
This is an ACTUAL conversation I had with my two year old princess:
Her: I WANT cereal! (Think Linda Blair with a lisp)
Me: Okay, which cereal do you want? (holding out two boxes)
Her: DAT one. (pointing to said box)
Me: (pouring bowl of chosen cereal and handing it to her) Here you go!
Her: NO, I dont WANT dat cereal. I want the GEEN one! (No idea?)
Me: We don't have any green cereal. Which one do you want? (holding out boxes of cereal, again)
Her: DAT ONE! (pointing to same original box)
(I pour cereal once again and hand her bowl)
Her: NO, I DON'T WANT DAT CEREAL!!!!
(I put it on the counter and walk away. She grabs it and goes to her table. She then comes back and the following occurs:)
Her: Will you hold my TOY?
Me: Sure! (she hands me the toy)
Her: GIVE ME BACK MY TOY!
Me: Okay, here it is!
(She takes the toy, tries to hold the bowl at the same time, then:)
Her: Will you hold my toy?
Me: (I say nothing; I just take the toy.)
Her: (looking at me very seriously:) I'll be RIGHT back to get MY toy, yeh!
(She goes and sits down at the table, looks at her brother eating cereal and:)
Her: I WANT a fork!
(Now, I know she probly means a spoon, but I am so rattled by now I am afraid not to give her EXACTLY what she asks for...)
Me: Here you go!
Her: NO! I don't WANT a fork! (fork is thrown to floor)
Me: Okay, here's a spoon.
Her: NO, I don't WANT a spoon!
(I leave her be then and walk away. She eventually picks up the spoon and begins to eat.)
It is no wonder God makes them so cute! It keeps us from wringing their sweet little necks!
Tuesday, May 22, 2007
Sunday, February 11, 2007
Thursday, February 1, 2007
The Crucible Lesson Plan
http://school.discovery.com/lessonplans/programs/salemwitchtrials/
http://www.monmouth.com/~literature/#The%20Crucible:
http://www.sdcoe.k12.ca.us/score/cruc/salem/tour.htm
http://www.sdcoe.k12.ca.us/score/cruc/salem/tour.htm
http://socialstudies.com/c/article.html?article@history#witchcraft+s@tZ7IAeD1LOjmk
http://www.law.umkc.edu/faculty/projects/ftrials/salem/SALEM.HTM
Wednesday, January 31, 2007
Poetry Corner
This is my "I Am" poem from AWP Summer Institute...
"I AM FROM" POEM
I am from Judy and Jerry…
Jim and Thelma…
Audrey and Daisy,
A tall tree with heavy branches
Full of Shadricks and Sutleys
And the beautiful fruit they’ve created.
I am from a father who’s so strong
It’s safe to cry,
And a mother who pillows all pain and sadness
Eating her disappointment,
Until it became a cancer in her breast.
I am from hard-working, middle class beginnings,
Strong women, with able hands
for cooking and sewing;
Their beauty in their strength,
Queens and princesses in their own minds.
I am from tall men like Gregory Peck,
Scottish and German immigrants
Devoted to their wives and children
Faithful, decent and kind—
The real Saints I worshipped.
I am from the halls of Peter Crump (city dump)
And Sidney Lanier High
Budweiser at the K-Mart Parking lot
Taffeta dances, bad hair and first kisses
To songs by Lionel Ritchie and Cool and the Gang.
I am from the rich Southern soil of Alabama:
Anniston, Pleasant Grove, Montgomery, Birmingham.
A devout follower of Jesus and Paul Bear Bryant,
With a Crimson soul and Yellow Hammers
Running through my veins.
A Baptist by birth,
But a Methodist by choice
Because I could not stop my feet from dancing
Or my heart and head from singing
To Grateful Dead or Pink Floyd songs.
I am from tending bars in Tuscaloosa,
ADPi sisters, Saturday football games,
Bama Belle blisters, and cries of “Roll, Tide, Roll!”
Watching my precious, only brother
Follow my footsteps but not my path.
I am from conservative Republicans
Who say “Yes, Ma’am” and “No sir”
And did not spare the rod nor the hugs and kisses but
Taught me that I am judged by the company I keep
And that pretty is as pretty does!
I am from a long row of dead, beaten horses,
A string of bad relationships
A loser magnet implanted by aliens
Taken by my ex like community property
When the bottom finally fell out.
I am a graduate of The University of Alabama
And the school of hard-knocks
With a Masters in forgiveness
And a PhD in Spine Straightening and Second Chances
And all the baggage hereunto appertained.
I am from the halls of NISH, Wenonah High,
And Randolph County,
A teacher leaving pieces of myself
In each classroom, in each student, but
Taking from them little bits to fill the holes.
I am from the arms of Thomas,
My knight in scrubs and spectacles
And I am the world to Wesley and Audrey
They all look at me so tenderly
My heart is warm and safe and loved.
This next poem is from Sandy Lyne's workshop in 2005...
"Ode to My Umbrella"
by Jerre B.
You, A savior
of fine, wispy hair
on days when shoes,
stockings, and spirits
are dampened.
You sit, dripping,
unacknowledged for
the rest of the day
until the bell rings
and wet, sticky
freedom from the
cold, windowless
building awaits me.
Tell me—do you
feel the anticipation
grow as I open you
up and rush to my car?
Better than when I forget
you entering in sunshine
only to hear the pounding
against the roof at
the days end and think
“@#&*!” since the
corner stands empty and
I know the ride home will
be spent feeling rivers
running down my scalp
and into my hair,
a drowned creature
with hair of plaster
that lifts all together
as if one single strand
and I visualize you suddenly
warm and cozy, sitting
behind my seat and
curse my luck.
Together, we have struggled
against wind and weather,
watched loved ones be
placed into the earth.
clapped for goals scored
and looked on as children
played , not caring about
hair, or clothes, or
dry clean only. but
laughing with head up,
mouth open, in wild abandon
as we look on, me
shaking my head
I have forgotten how
to live without you.
Tell me, did I ever
love the rain and
drink it in, letting
it fill me up?
I can only remember
your touch in my hand
when I think of rain.
This poem was written in January 2005 upon the death of my Grandmother, Thelma.
"MY GRANDMOTHER’S EYES"
My Grandmother’s Eyes
full of so many things--
full of sorrow for the death
of her mother, her brothers,
her sister, her friends,
and our sweet Benjamin;
full of contentment when
she spent time with her children
and grandchildren together,
the house full of food and
laughter and family;
full of mystery of a past
that I did not really understand;
full of love for my grandfather;
full of hope for the future;
full of fear when the cancer came;
full of determination to beat it,
which she did with courage and heart
and it made me proud to be hers;
full of strength, a legacy of women
who beat the odds and overcame
and made life better for each
generation which came after them;
full of stories waiting to be told;
full of memories, some shared
and others left silent, not forgotten;
full of despair when the cancer
came back with a vengeance,
full of joy as she held my son;
full of acceptance when her time
was drawing to a close and she knew
she would leave us all soon.
My Grandmother’s eyes, a reflection
of my Grandmother Nix’s,
will live on in my Mother, in me,
and in the precious eyes of my daughter,
and I will tell her everything and she
will know where she comes from
and be strong and beautiful, too,
and that is how my Grandmother
will live forever through our eyes.
Jerre B.
"I AM FROM" POEM
I am from Judy and Jerry…
Jim and Thelma…
Audrey and Daisy,
A tall tree with heavy branches
Full of Shadricks and Sutleys
And the beautiful fruit they’ve created.
I am from a father who’s so strong
It’s safe to cry,
And a mother who pillows all pain and sadness
Eating her disappointment,
Until it became a cancer in her breast.
I am from hard-working, middle class beginnings,
Strong women, with able hands
for cooking and sewing;
Their beauty in their strength,
Queens and princesses in their own minds.
I am from tall men like Gregory Peck,
Scottish and German immigrants
Devoted to their wives and children
Faithful, decent and kind—
The real Saints I worshipped.
I am from the halls of Peter Crump (city dump)
And Sidney Lanier High
Budweiser at the K-Mart Parking lot
Taffeta dances, bad hair and first kisses
To songs by Lionel Ritchie and Cool and the Gang.
I am from the rich Southern soil of Alabama:
Anniston, Pleasant Grove, Montgomery, Birmingham.
A devout follower of Jesus and Paul Bear Bryant,
With a Crimson soul and Yellow Hammers
Running through my veins.
A Baptist by birth,
But a Methodist by choice
Because I could not stop my feet from dancing
Or my heart and head from singing
To Grateful Dead or Pink Floyd songs.
I am from tending bars in Tuscaloosa,
ADPi sisters, Saturday football games,
Bama Belle blisters, and cries of “Roll, Tide, Roll!”
Watching my precious, only brother
Follow my footsteps but not my path.
I am from conservative Republicans
Who say “Yes, Ma’am” and “No sir”
And did not spare the rod nor the hugs and kisses but
Taught me that I am judged by the company I keep
And that pretty is as pretty does!
I am from a long row of dead, beaten horses,
A string of bad relationships
A loser magnet implanted by aliens
Taken by my ex like community property
When the bottom finally fell out.
I am a graduate of The University of Alabama
And the school of hard-knocks
With a Masters in forgiveness
And a PhD in Spine Straightening and Second Chances
And all the baggage hereunto appertained.
I am from the halls of NISH, Wenonah High,
And Randolph County,
A teacher leaving pieces of myself
In each classroom, in each student, but
Taking from them little bits to fill the holes.
I am from the arms of Thomas,
My knight in scrubs and spectacles
And I am the world to Wesley and Audrey
They all look at me so tenderly
My heart is warm and safe and loved.
This next poem is from Sandy Lyne's workshop in 2005...
"Ode to My Umbrella"
by Jerre B.
You, A savior
of fine, wispy hair
on days when shoes,
stockings, and spirits
are dampened.
You sit, dripping,
unacknowledged for
the rest of the day
until the bell rings
and wet, sticky
freedom from the
cold, windowless
building awaits me.
Tell me—do you
feel the anticipation
grow as I open you
up and rush to my car?
Better than when I forget
you entering in sunshine
only to hear the pounding
against the roof at
the days end and think
“@#&*!” since the
corner stands empty and
I know the ride home will
be spent feeling rivers
running down my scalp
and into my hair,
a drowned creature
with hair of plaster
that lifts all together
as if one single strand
and I visualize you suddenly
warm and cozy, sitting
behind my seat and
curse my luck.
Together, we have struggled
against wind and weather,
watched loved ones be
placed into the earth.
clapped for goals scored
and looked on as children
played , not caring about
hair, or clothes, or
dry clean only. but
laughing with head up,
mouth open, in wild abandon
as we look on, me
shaking my head
I have forgotten how
to live without you.
Tell me, did I ever
love the rain and
drink it in, letting
it fill me up?
I can only remember
your touch in my hand
when I think of rain.
This poem was written in January 2005 upon the death of my Grandmother, Thelma.
"MY GRANDMOTHER’S EYES"
My Grandmother’s Eyes
full of so many things--
full of sorrow for the death
of her mother, her brothers,
her sister, her friends,
and our sweet Benjamin;
full of contentment when
she spent time with her children
and grandchildren together,
the house full of food and
laughter and family;
full of mystery of a past
that I did not really understand;
full of love for my grandfather;
full of hope for the future;
full of fear when the cancer came;
full of determination to beat it,
which she did with courage and heart
and it made me proud to be hers;
full of strength, a legacy of women
who beat the odds and overcame
and made life better for each
generation which came after them;
full of stories waiting to be told;
full of memories, some shared
and others left silent, not forgotten;
full of despair when the cancer
came back with a vengeance,
full of joy as she held my son;
full of acceptance when her time
was drawing to a close and she knew
she would leave us all soon.
My Grandmother’s eyes, a reflection
of my Grandmother Nix’s,
will live on in my Mother, in me,
and in the precious eyes of my daughter,
and I will tell her everything and she
will know where she comes from
and be strong and beautiful, too,
and that is how my Grandmother
will live forever through our eyes.
Jerre B.
I am finally published!!!!
On March 18, 2007 an anthology titled LOUSIANA IN WRITING will be released by Pelican Publishing, Inc. which will include 200 essays of authors chosen from submissions from around the state and country. One of these is -- MINE!!!!!! I am too excited and humbled for words, so I will keep you posted on the details and let you know how my first book party and signing goes. We will be at the Maple Leaf Club from 3-6 p.m. The public is invited. Also, there will be a local book signing at Books Along the Teche in New Iberia, LA on April 21st. The book is now available at Barnes and Noble and it still feels like a dream!
Saturday, January 6, 2007
What's new in Tuscaloosa?
Since I am a Bama Fan, I need to know what is going on at the Capstone. Here is a link to my Roll Tide roots!
Fellow AWP Members Unite!
If you are a past or current member of the AWP, post a note giving me your first name and e-mail and I will send you current information about inservices offered in your area and other up to date information about AWP.
Also, here is a website you might be interested in...
http://view.email.authorhouse.com/?ffcb10-fe7e1d76736d0d7577-fdf910757064037c73147877-ff2e1775746c
Also, here is a website you might be interested in...
http://view.email.authorhouse.com/?ffcb10-fe7e1d76736d0d7577-fdf910757064037c73147877-ff2e1775746c
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