Happy Mother's Day

      When my daughter was born, it was December, but unseasonably warm. She arrived, but in a series of false starts. Labor began, everyone was called to the house---except for the doctor---and then labor stopped. My mom, my mother-in-law and my friend Bobbie (a woman I adopted as a grandmother) went home. No baby that night...

      And so I walked the neighborhood. It was so warm, I just wore a long-sleeved sweater, and was quite comfortable. (The 25-pound "oven" attached to the front of me probably helped a bit...)

      The next evening, we waited until we were sure the pains were not going to disappear, and made the call. When the doctor arrived, the evening turned into a concerto of stringed instruments. Everyone moved around calmly, orchestrated by Dr. Duhart, and when the baby was born, we were thrilled. A girl!  It was the happiest moment of my life...

photo by Tara Haire

      Almost nine years later, I was again about to give birth. I was teaching at  a vocational school, and when labor began that afternoon, I told my director, "I won't be here on Monday," and when I told him why, he got hysterical; he wanted me to leave right away--more for his sake than mine, I'm sure. My students had weeks ago given me a shower---they collected money and bought me what every pregnant, fashion-disabled white lady needed: a maternity top made out of snakeskin-styled fabric, in olive-green and black. 

     However, I had another hysterical man to contend with at home. My husband (a new model; the old one had been cast aside) was deadset against a home delivery, but since the baby was going to come out of my chute and not his, he didn't even have a vote in the matter. As a compromise, he wanted an ambulance waiting in front of the house, its engine running, just in case. I vetoed that idea as well...

      When I called Michael at work that evening, to tell him labor had started and reminded him to get film for the camera and Sprite for me (for when I got thirsty during delivery)---the only two things we had left to buy---he went into hyperdrive. In fact, he was so anxious, when I looked out the front door, thinking he had gotten home, I saw he was indeed home. He had driven up into our yard and parked just a few feet from the front door, headlights still on! 

     But after our son was born--the second happiest day of my life--my husband could not stop blathering about how wonderful home deliveries were. Dr. Duhart was so impressive, the delivery was so low-key, and we had cake and coffee afterwards with the doctor, just like we did with my daughter.

photo by Kristen Morgan--www.lanierstar.com

       I thought nothing would surpass those two moments---joy-wise---yet when my granddaughter was born, it was a hat-trick. Happiness had come full circle.  My daughter and her partner are far better parents than I ever was. They're more patient, more thoughtful, more creative and and more gentle-spirited than I ever was. I am sure I will be in awe of my son's parenting skills if he becomes a father at some point. (But hopefully that won't be for a while...)

       Reading Linda O'Connell's post about Mother's Day  sent me back in time.  I hope that all women have a great Mother's Day today. Whether you gave birth to children, whether you are raising children borne by others, or whether you are kind of filling in as a parent---as a teacher, a social worker, a minister, a neighbor, a friend, an aunt---we all came from a mother. If she is still here with us, celebrate with her.  If not, celebrate her memory today.

       And after you get teary-eyed over her sentimental post, read Linda's earlier one. It's scary. Cellulite takes over the city!  Yikes!  Run for your life!

And welcome to my two newest followers. I'v been following one of Tricia Grissom's blogs for a while. I just found out she has four blogs!  Wow!  I'm impressed. (I can barely keep my one blog going...The other blog is written by my Golden Retriever.) Tricia--thanks. I hope you at least occasionally see something worthwhile here.

And thanks also to The Old Geezer.  He has---as of a few minutes ago---2634 followers. Good grief!  How does he suck up so many followers to his blog?  Let us in on your secret... 

Writerly Friends

       Perhaps when you share your work with friends, you want them to gush. You want an outpouring of praise. In other words, you want to be part of a mutual admiration society.

       "I love this. It's great."
       "Oh, thanks but yours is so much better. Your   
          story is absolutely incredible." 
       "Thank you...You think so? Your images are
        simply phenomenal!"
         
         Yadda, yadda, yadda...
        
        If you share your work enough with people like this, you will need a thesarus with you at all times,  so you can get some words and phrases like "earth shattering" and "life changing" and "moving" and "chilling" sprinkled in with the normal great/fabulous/wonderful.

       However, if you are serious about writing, and you genuinely want to improve your story/poem/essay, you need to share your writing with people who are armed with spears.  And when they raise their spears, you need to raise up your shield and see where the spear points land.  And you need to write down where the dents are, so you don't forget...

photo by spaceninja

       With your writing, it's good to get constructive criticism.  A friend who can pick apart your work...one who reads with a writer's eye...a friend who is not afraid to make suggestions...That is the kind of friend a writer needs.

       Yesterday evening, Linda O'Connell , while she was busy doing the sacred "Snow Day" dance over and over again (it worked!), she made some time to look at a story of mine.  Not only did she read it, but she gave me a bunch of much-needed suggestions to improve it, she gave some specific images to jumpstart my revising, and she sent me several places for resubmitting the story.

        Now, that does not mean I agree with all her suggestions.  There is one I've got my heels dug in about, but I did not use the strategy well, so I will tweak it but keep the technique. However, when a writer re-examines their work to "make their case" about a word choice or metaphor, their writing becomes stronger. 

        Thanks, Linda.  I will resend you the story when it is revised.  And I want to know from all the blogging writers that might read this:  Who do you share your writing with when you want some real feedback?  How do they help you specifically?  After all,

    Writers do not let friends write crap.