“It’s not about being in a relationship, engaged, or married. It’s about being secured, happy, safe, relieved, and feeling good. It’s about having a peaceful state of mind and sleeping at night without the fear of losing what you’ve got. It’s about being yourself and not someone else.
It’s about feeling loved, happy, respected, understood and appreciated. It’s all about the right person and the right time.”
I can’t believe I almost forgot! I’ve been so busy with moving and dieting and exercising and a little bit of everything in between I almost forgot that after October came November. Heck, I almost forgot we were in October.
I really need to stop myself from thinking in an “Ernie” voice from Sesame Street. It’s starting to irritate me. Back to writing.
But seriously! I really did almost forgot the month! I barely remembered about November and then I flipped out! Anybody who’s serious about writing KNOWS that November is the annual National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo) and it’s, like, everywhere.
So, earlier today, I started my novel. I’m only, y’know…. three and a half days behind. It’s all good. I’ve been planning to start writing this forever, so no biggie.
And I’m proud. I already have nearly 2000 words written!
Though… when the goal is 50,000 words, that’s not a lot. 😦
Things’ll work out eventually. Even with lack of sleep because I drank too much caffeine and was too busy worrying about the fact that our fridge is going out.
Yeah, I need sleep. Badly. My oldest child is getting up in a half an hour for school. I’m doomed.
It was a time of war. Everywhere I looked there was sadness. Buildings were crumbling to the ground, everything in various shades of black, brown and red. I was searching for something. I could feel it inside of me. I had been looking for days, weeks, months; you could see it in my eyes and on my body. I was worn down and hadn’t had a shower in a long time.
It was like I was in tunnel vision. All I could think was “where is he? why can’t I find him?”
Then a little boy ran past followed by more children. And then I knew. Somehow, I knew. I had found him.
Quietly I followed the children; they were playing some sort of game – chasing each other with not a care in the world. They had no idea what kind of world we were living in. That made me smile a bit, before I remembered what I was searching for.
I came to the entrance of one of the many refuge sites. They were hard to come by and very well hidden to the rest of the world. Those who wanted to stay away from the war – the young, the elderly, the disabled – hid there.
I was a prisoner of war who escaped to find my child. The enemy had captured me early on; I knew they were coming for me and I gave my only child to someone I trusted, a semi-elderly woman past her prime, to watch over him until I, hopefully, came back to get him.
She was here. He was here. I could feel it in my heart.
As I walked through the dark tunnel – there was no electricity – women, men, and children of all ages looked at me in fear and awe. I can only imagine how I looked to them. Occasionally I would stop and ask someone who looked especially kind, normally a woman, if she knew where the woman I was looking for was. I was always asked many questions and then pointed forward with a smile. My hope was growing.
Finally I stumbled upon her. I found her with her back to me and so I observed her. She had cut her now-gray hair short; it used to be long and wavy, mid-back. I didn’t think I was gone for that long. Had I been?
She must have sensed me behind her because right before I called her name she began turning around to face me. She didn’t look surprised, just… determined. There were children behind her, some sleeping, some looking up curiously at me. She motioned for them to go and play. I looked at all of the boys; which one was mine?
I spoke to her: “You know why I’m here. I told you I’d be back.”
Her eyes got harder, fiercer, more determined. “I didn’t think you’d make it back alive. You can’t have him.”
I choked back a sob, bringing a hand up to my chest to steady myself. “He’s my flesh and blood. I trusted that you.”
Tears rolled down my cheeks now. There were people staring from their seats in the hallway. I didn’t care.
“You have eight children of your own! He’s my child! Give him back!” I yelled it to her. I was crying, scared.
She snarled at me. “You abandoned your own child to go with the enemy. He’s no child of yours!”
I cried even more. And then a child came running up to me, wrapping his arms around my legs, hugging me. I looked down in surprise. Was he…?
He looked up at me. “Are you my Mama?”
I leaned down and hugged him tightly as I cried. I could see the tiny features that grew with him in the baby I gave birth to long ago. This was my baby boy.
* * *
I woke with tears streaming down my face. This truly is the recollection of a dream I had last night. It was one of the most vivid dreams I’ve ever had and I can’t get it out of my mind. It scared me out of my mind. I could feel everything. I knew everything that was going on. I could see myself as it was happening. I hope something like what happened in my dream never happens in real life.
Pardon me if I cry
Is it all right if I cry
I swear it’s not me you’re dreaming of.
I didn’t mean to say
the wrong things.
I don’t want to fight.
I don’t even know what we’re fighting for.
Can’t you just
let me know
what bothers you?
I’m so sorry that I ever disappointed you.
I know I’m not
Can’t you just see me as I see you?
Why do we fight
with our silent
I love you.
Written a decent amount of time ago when my fiance and I were in a tiff. Neither of us are confrontational and are more the “silent fighter” type. It was a long, drawn-out and torturous time for me, and I assume him. Thankfully, everything worked out in the end. I only recently found this and wanted to share it.
This small script is written for the Daily Prompt: Childlike. The description is to explain your biggest regret – as though to a small child.
Child: “Mommy? Why aren’t you and our real daddy still together?”
I look at my child with sad eyes. I knew this day would come, but in my heart of hearts I was hoping that it never would. How was I going to explain this to him?
Me: “What do you mean, sweetie?”
I have to play it cool, make sure I know what he’s talking about. I have to try and not upset my child that I love so dearly.
Child: “When we were little you left our really daddy, right? And took us with you, right, Mommy? Why? Didn’t you love him anymore?”
Oh my poor, poor, sweet child. This is going to be so much harder on you than I wanted it to be. I’m sorry.
Me: “It’s not that, honey. Your real daddy and I, we… well, we didn’t get along anymore. Your real Daddy was being really mean to Mommy and he wouldn’t stop hurting Mommy. He even almost hurt you and Mommy didn’t want that at all. But, you see, honey, nobody would believe Mommy for a really long time.”
I can see my child’s confusion and the scared look on his face. He’s trying to figure out what happened. There’s more coming from him… and from me. I’m not sure if I’m prepared enough for this yet, but I have to try. For my child.
Child: “My real daddy hurt you, Mommy? And he… he almost hurt me? But… but why?”
Because he’s a mean asshole who never really loved us or wanted us in the first place… but I can’t tell you all of that.
Me: “I don’t know, honey. I really don’t know. I’m not sure if your real daddy ever really wanted us in the first place, sometimes.”
My little child looks so hurt right now. I wish it weren’t so, but I don’t want to lie to him. I know that I’m softening the truth and that’s almost as good as lying, but isn’t it better that he be prepared for the future?
Child: “R… really? B… but… Mommy?”
Oh, my baby. He’s about to cry. I never wanted to hurt you so.
Me: “Yes, honey?”
Child: “Do you still love me?”
I think I might cry. How could I ever have let him think I didn’t love him?
Me: “Yes, baby, I do love you and I always will. It’s your real daddy that I don’t love.”
I pull him onto my lap, hugging him tightly as tears threaten to spill over onto my cheeks. I don’t ever want him to doubt my love for him again. For him or his siblings.
My child looks up to me from the tight embrace; something has occurred to him again. I just smile softly down at him and nod, wordlessly telling him he can ask whatever he wants, no matter how painful it is.
Child: “If you don’t love our real daddy, how can you love us?”
I grab him and wrap my arms around him tightly. Tears start running down my cheeks; I can no longer hold them back. Oh, my poor, sweet child, how I love you. Please, please, please hear the truth in my words, feel them in my touch, in my embrace. I love you and your siblings… always and forever.
Me: “Oh, honey. I love you. I love your siblings and I always will. I… it’s just, I’m not sure if I ever really, truly loved your real daddy. So you see, sweetie, my love for you and your siblings has nothing to do with your real daddy. I love you all because you’re my babies and that will never change. I love you forever and always no matter what.”
Child: “I love you too, Mommy.”
- Daily Prompt: Childlike (dailypress.wordpress.com)
Hey, all who read this! What’s up?
This is a friendly update to let you know:
Oh yeah, I write more things than what I write on this blog. Did I forget to mention that?
Of course, everybody who’s read the “About” section of my blog probably knows that already. Along with this blog I write poems, short stories, and am working on various novels and novellas. I do have two poems in print, and they won first and second prizes in widespread contests, but that was at least five years ago. It’s harder now, at least it seems like it.
I’m not big on posting my writings on the Internet, but I found a site that I’m willing to do so. Earlier in the month I posted the link in the upper right corner: deviantART is the name of the site.
But that’s not necessarily what I meant either.
Sure, that’s the majority of what I meant, but not the full story so to speak.
I thnk I’ve mentioned this before, but I when I write, I write with meaning. Sure, it doesn’t always seem so and I know for a fact that sometimes I rant, but can you honestly say that at some point in time you haven’t learned from someone else’s mistake? Or that you’ve never read something someone wrote and it just clicked with you, even though it was one of the most random things you’ve ever read?
That’s what I do.
I try to write about things I know; I will never write otherwise. To me, that’s like lying. Why would you write about something if it wasn’t dear to your heart or affected you in some way?
I’ve written about the measles; it was an informative article, sort of, but it also told you why I was writing it. I wrote that article because my son had contracted it because even though he’d been vaccinated. Did you know that now there’s articles going up about “anti-vaccination protests” and “parents for vaccines not speaking up”? It’s a contradiction, but a story for another post.
I’ve written about government programs and income problems; I’ve written about moving and renting houses. I’ve done before and after articles as I try to work out where I went wrong.
Can you tell me that if you were going through the same problems and saw the articles that it wouldn’t have helped you in some way?
It’s all in the way that you look at it.
Write. Read. Help. Inspire. Realize. Hope.
There’s more to writing than just words.
I have some news for everyone out there who believes everything their doctors tell them with little to no question.
My oldest child, my son, has the measles. And he’s been vaccinated.
Two weeks ago, to the date, I took my son to the emergency room because he was coughing, lethargic, and had a fever all day. The last time I had checked his temperature it was over 101F. By the time we were at the hospital, my son’s temperature was over 102F. I had sent him to preschool on Wednesday, with what I thought was just a mild cough, thinking he would have Thursday, Friday, plus the weekend for it to go away (he only goes to school two days out of the week).
At the E.R. they diagnosed him with bronchiolitis and a severe double ear infection. Bronchiolitis, ok. That’s going around because it’s been dry recently, but the ear infections confused me because ever since he had ear tubes put in a couple of years ago he hasn’t had even one incidence of a ear infection. Until now.
Later on in the week, my other two children started getting sick and I had them seen by a doctor: bronchiolitis once more, but no ear infection in either of them.
As the days went on my oldest seemed like he was getting better. He was taking his medicines like he was supposed to and his cough was getting better and his temp was going down. Then, all of a sudden, it all got worse. Literally. Overnight from this past Saturday to Sunday it was like BOOM! His temperature starting going up again and his cough and runny nose came back full force. To add to it all, he started developing a rash: first, on his face and [behind his] ears and quickly spreading to his arms, torso, legs, and back. I freaked out and took him to the emergency room. Again.
Wanna know what they told me? They said that he still had a touch of bronchiolitis and a severe double ear infection (STILL?!) but they had absolutely no idea what his rash was and to go see his pediatrician. (Mind you, this was on Sunday, so I couldn’t have taken him to the doctor yet.)
Over the past couple of days his rash has gotten redder and spread more, though I didn’t think it possible in the beginning. He’s been absolutely miserable itching and coughing, though it’s started to go away, thank goodness. The coughing, that is.
I was able to get him into his pediatrician and after consulting with me, asking me so many questions it was ridiculous, seeing the report from the emergency room, she decided to run a couple of tests of her own to see if my son has the measles.
She told me “It’s definitely viral. I think it’s the measles. If it’s not that, then Fifth’s Disease, but I doubt it.”
The test came back positive and my son has the measles. After he’s been vaccinated. Only once, mind you. But still.
How many of you that are reading this thought that it wasn’t possible to get the measles after even one vaccine? Guess what: it is.
My son’s pediatrician didn’t really say much about how or why he still got the measles even though he had gotten vaccinated, so I did a little digging.
On the Center for Disease Control website, it says:
“Almost all children (95 out of 100) who get two doses of MMR vaccine will be protected from measles”.
With that said, and the obvious percentage given, what about the children who are too young to get the second dose of the MMR? What is their percentage of protection? Is it still ninety-five percent? Or is it lower because of only having one vaccination of MMR? They are willing to give out the percent of how many are protected after two doses of the MMR vaccine, but don’t offer the percent for after just one dose. It unnerves me greatly that we are not given any of this information, even though the statistics are so supposedly low for a child, teenager, or adult to get the measles after being vaccinated.
Did you know that in the year 2000 the measles was officially considered to be “eliminated” in the United States? Yes, it’s true! But, on average, each year at least 60 people catch the measles. Average. Meaning that there are years with more. This year, in particular, is the second largest outbreak of the measles since it was labeled with “eliminated” status in 2000, and they’re only counting from January 1 to August 24. The highest number goes to the year 2011 when over 200 people were diagnosed with the measles, several hospitalized.
Apparantely “eliminated” actually means “it’s almost gone”.