My Glass if Half Empty...and That's a Good Thing

I'm sure many of you are familiar with that adage.  Some of us see the glass as half empty, others as half full.  If you're a half full type, you are supposed to be the more positive of the two thinkers, right?  I see it a bit differently these days.  Here's why...

Now this "glass" is a metaphor for many things.  It can be our life's work; it can be our material possessions; it can be our overall happiness with life.  Whatever you think the "glass" is doesn't really matter.  It's the attitude about the "glass" that matters.

 

If my glass is half anything, then I can assume that I don't have the other half, right?  It's missing.  Or maybe I never had it.  How do I get the other half?  If my glass is half full, it seems as though someone else has been doing the filling, and in turn, it is up to them to finish the job.  If my glass is half empty, it seems more likely that it is up to me to fill the rest.  (A purely pedantic exercise, I know, but hang with me.)

If this is the case, I prefer seeing the glass as half empty.  It gives me the responsibility of filling up the rest.  Furthermore, if I don't like what is in my cup already, I can change up the mixture.  50% of my glass may be rancid sewer water, but I can fill the rest with clear spring water. 

For now, I'll stop looking for the waiter, and I'll fill my half-empty cup from the tap in my kitchen instead.  It's not a mountain spring, but sometimes the best "water" is right under your nose.

She's Alive!

I have no good excuses for being absent from my blog for so long, other than the fact it was summer, and I decided to focus on my children instead of my writing.  (The last line should be translated as, I am a really lazy writer, and I don't need much of an excuse not to write.  Although my children are pretty good excuses, no offense to their loveliness.)

So what was I up to, you ask?  Or, rather, what was I doing that even remotely related to being a writer and being accountable to my writing self?  Well...

1.  I critiqued a lot.  I didn't write a lot, but I maintained my participation in a great short story critique group.  I got a lot of my older, filed away ideas critiqued by the group and therefore have an excellent jumping off point for my fall writing and submitting.

2.  I read a lot.  Not so much for children.  But for me.  A particular indulgence was continuing the books in the No. 1 Ladies Detective Agency series by Alexander McCall Smith.  I love Precious Ramotswe.  She's my hero and reading about her before I go to bed is like falling asleep in her "traditional"-sized arms.  You should really have a go at the first one if you haven't already.

3.  I vacationed.  This last one is not to be taken lightly.  Taking time to renew your mind and spirit is a major part of the writing experience.  At least, that's what I'm telling myself.

Did you do anything exciting over the summer?

My Kids, in a Nutshell

Last night my husband, kids and I made the yearly trek to downtown Jefferson City to watch the fireworks.  We have the whole evening down pat.  We show up at about 8:00 o'clock to stake out our favorite spot in the Governor's Gardens.  It has a good view of the fireworks, and there are plenty of open spaces for the kids to run around blowing off steam before the show begins at 9:30.

A lot of other parents must feel the same way, because it is always teeming with kids.  This time a bunch of boys were organizing a game of freeze tag.  My 10-year old son usually hangs back and watches, but for the first time he wanted to play with the other kids.  Polite as he is, he knew he should ask before he joined, but he was very shy about the whole thing.

His solution?  Get his 6-year old sister to ask.  "Maggie, can you go ask that boy if we can play with him?"

"Elijah, I don't want to play.  You ask."

"I'm too nervous."

Maggie gives him a look, then in a rare display of sisterly love, she goes and asks the boy anyway.  "Can my brother play tag with you?  He wants to join."  I see the boy nod his head from a distance, and Maggie walks back toward us. 

"Elijah, he said you could play."  Relieved, Elijah takes off and joins the game.

Looking at her father and me, Maggie says, "They grow up so fast, don't they?"

Catching Up on Some Classics...Modern and Otherwise

I've been shifting gears lately, both in my life and in my writing, and I think in my reading as well.  I've had an itch to get back to the basics. 

Summer is here.  Motherhood is bare bones during this time.  Back to just being MOM: fun, carefree, spontaneous.  Gone is MOTHER who is in a perpetual state of reminding (do your homework, brush your teeth, practice piano, don't wrestle the black dog with the white couch cushions, blah, blah).

In my writing, I've taken a hiatus from the rigid poetry of picture books (and I don't mean rhyme here people...if you've tried to write a picture book you know of what I speak), and I am trying my hand at more, well, novel-ly stuff.  It's kind of liberating in a scary, jump-out-of-the-plane kind of way, but for me, it feels like a necessary leap.  Right now, I need to write what I know.  More on that in a later post.

And for reading, I'm picking up the classics.  For some reason that is beyond my understanding I never read To Kill  a Mockingbird. Such was my embarrassment, I kept this fact hidden from my more literate friends, but this summer, I took the book by the horns and read it.  And wow...I get it!  What an amazing book.  I'm almost glad I didn't read this book until now.  I don't think the high school me would have appreciated in the same way.  Plus, I'm notorious for not re-reading books, so I'm not sure I would have picked it up as an adult (bad habit, I know).  I was so inspired I moved on to the modern day classic, The Help. 

What about you?  What classic have you picked up lately?

My Mother's Day Booty

Being a mom is very, very, very, very hard.  But it is also quite awesome.  Because you get little gifts like this...

A picture of a flower from my daughter,


 

And this, a "Mother" anagram from my son (note my favorites: "H" is for "heretitary" and "R" is for "radical"),

And this, "Coupons of Love" from my son. Especially funny is the fact that they expire on Mother's Day, the day that I received them. Clever boy!

  

I've said it once, and I'll say it again.  Humor is one of the best gifts we as mothers can give our children.  There are a bucket load of other great character traits that I hope my children cultivate and nurture, but their senses of humor will help them pick themselves up when the world knocks them down.  It also won't hurt when trying to weasel your way out of cleaning your room...

Ode to a Playground Tree

Today was a beautiful day in mid-Missouri.  The kind you wish you had all year -- breezy and cool with just the right amount of sunshine.  The perfect day to visit a playground.  The perfect kind of day to think about trees, don't you think?

There's something special about playground trees.  There's an oak tree next to my daughter's school playground, and you can tell it is well-loved by the children who visit it day after day.  The earth below its branches is worn smooth by the hundreds of feet that run circles around it, and the roots no longer hide beneath the dirt in an unseen jamble.  They've been slowly exposed over many years and now lay bare, like the gnarled and wrinkly fingers of a doting grandmother resting her hands on an earthen skirt.  Twigs of all sizes and lengths are scattered about, remnants of a thousand abandoned stick forts.

I don't profess to be a "treehugger" as such, but I could imagine wrapping my arms around this leafy lady and protecting her so that future kids can play under her shelter and shade.

Inspiration Hot Zones

How many of us find our inspiration in the shower?  Or in the car on a long drive listening to (insert your favorite band here...my current is Mumford and Sons)?  Or admit it...on the throne!  I recently discovered another inspiration hot zone.  My bed.  Right before a nap or bedtime.  Right before I slip away...into...dreamland.

But it can be tricky.  Wait too long and you're asleep at the risk of losing everything you imagined.  (Ask my husband.  I hold the world record in shortest time between head on pillow and the snorty, spittly sounds of night's first slumber.)  The goal is to wake yourself up enough to write it down before it drifts away.  Be careful!  It may be your greatest idea yet. 

Or maybe just indigestion.  You really shouldn't eat pizza right before bedtime.  Shame!