Untrained

Master Class

 Stacey of Stacey’s Writing Moments was chosen to pick our line this week, read her piece from our last lesson, titled Winter. .

She chose Erma Bombeck’s Motherhood, The Second  Oldest Profession. Your line for this week, to open your stories, is….(drumroll please!!)

“One of the biggest complaints of motherhood is the lack of training.”

Put your thinking caps on and set your Muse to create. This assignment is due by 6:00 pm Monday, April 1, 2013 . Please identify the starting line by enclosing it in quotes, bolding, or italicizing.

"One of the biggest complaints of motherhood is the lack of training."

That's what I hear.  Oh, there are plenty of books, magazine articles, web sites, or pod casts.  But honestly, I wouldn't have read/listened to them if they'd been available anyway.  

I was busy reorganizing my life.  Buying baby clothes, furniture, supplies.  

My pregnancy was not planned.  I was a single mother.

I'd been hitting the snooze on my biological clock for years.  Evidently nap time was over.

No time for training in the motherly arts or keeping up on the latest mommy trends.  So, when the daughter arrived, I asked the best expert I knew.

My mother.

Was she an excellent mother?  Probably not, there were issues.  But, she had five kids.  She kept us all fed, housed, healthy and loved.  What other qualifications were necessary?

Did I turn out to be an excellent mother?  Probably not, it wasn't exactly my calling.  But, I kept her fed, housed, healthy, and loved.  Because that's how I was trained.




  

Every Other Year

Week 2, hot air balloons and Nirvana...





Keb eyed his wife warily as they stood on the ridge watching the balloons begin their journey across the canyon. 

Keb and Fen had shared a heartfelt hug, but Jaya had just nervously patted the six year old boy's head as she loaded him and his belongings into the basket.

"You be good for your next mamma and pappa, Fen.  Just as you were for us."  Polite words.  

The boy smiled and waved, too excited about the balloon ride to notice Jaya's apathy. Fen turned to face his destination.  This third trek across the rift was just the next step of his growing up.

"Maybe, this time, Golda will come back to us."  Jaya strained to see the balloons that were floating their direction, children waving as they passed each other mid way.

"Jaya, you know it's unlikely, the..."

"But it could happen! It has before."  Jaya looked at him with desperate hope.

Keb kept his thoughts within. Their self-born daughter had left after her second birthday, just as she was meant to.  Jaya had grieved herself into depression, barely attending to the toddler boy they'd received later that day.

He'd prayed for a girl child two years later, in hopes that Jaya would come around. Four year old Fen had turned out to be a perfect fit for him. Jaya played her role, barely.

"Look! The balloons have landed, Keb!"  Jaya shook with anxiety. "Go see, Keb, see if it's her."

Keb followed the chart at the landing area.  With a smile and hug he collected his next cycle child. A six year old girl.

They returned together to Jaya's post. Keb's joy turned to despair at Jaya's crestfallen face.  She recovered enough to run one caramel colored hand through the girls curls.

"What pretty blond hair you have."

Paths Crossed

This week, we'd like you to write a scene that includes a happy ending


(If you haven't read here before, you may want to read this and then this ) 

Tamryn Leafeyes, Lady of Tree Cairn, tried to embrace her daughter. “Really, ‘Bet. Would it have been too much to say hello first?” Tam dropped her arms, she wasn’t entirely surprised by her daughter’s anger. She had far overstepped herself this time.

“How do you say hello to someone that has stolen your child, Mother.? Hi, hugs and kisses, can I have my boy back? Pretty please? Speaking of, where is Barry? I'm taking him home. Now." Lyabet had not seen her mother for literally ages. She hadn't changed, elementals, whether earth or air, didn't age at the same pace humans did.

“’Bet, I did not steal your son. I simply wanted to visit with my grandson.”

“You have two grandsons. The one you are visiting with, and the one you left behind. The one that thinks he’s not good enough to go with the, ahem, nice lady.”

Tam sighed , “I know. I have two grandsons. But, I couldn’t bring the other through the earth. And? Perhaps had you told me yourself of these grandchildren, instead of having to hear it from Graleon,” Tam shook herself in disbelief, “we could have set a much more pleasant visit.”

Lyabet remembered the last time she seen her father, Graleon. He’d told her how much he missed and loved her. In the same breath he’d called her babies animals. Her jaw tightened at the memory.

“You know how your father feels about humans, ‘Bet. You should have come to me. I understand. I had human babies. Once.” Tam turned away.  When she turned back, Lyabet could see traces of tears.

“Mother,” she reached out, almost shyly, laid her hand on the other woman’s shoulder, “ I know about them, I know about the trees. And, I know how this path may end.” Lyabet gently turned her mother to face her. “I know you understand, it’s just been so long since I’ve seen you. Father raised me, you didn’t seem interested…”

“I was interested! You were a child of my blood, the baby I wouldn’t have to plant a tree to remember. But, you were more the child of your father. Air, not Earth. I couldn’t teach you of the air. He could, he did. He did, and was so smug.” Tam waved a hand to dismiss the thoughts of Graleon. “’Bet, I have always loved you, always wanted to have you with me. It just didn’t happen the way I wished.”

Lyabet drew a breath, the anger receding as she made a quick decision. “Maybe it’s time we got to know each other. Perhaps we have some catching up to do. Get Barry, we need to go back now, time is different here.”

Tam looked at her daughter with raised brows,“We?”

“Yes, Mother. We. Three. Now” She could only hope her husband would understand.

>>>>>>>
　
Chuck wasn’t sure what woke him. A change in air temperature, a thump in the backyard, but he jumped from the sofa where he’d dozed off. “Beth? Beth is that you? “

A woman with leaf green eyes and brown hair that glinted with autumn highlights stepped into the room. “Yes! Yes Chuck, we are home!”

He jumped back, reaching for anything that might pass as a weapon, “Who the hell are you and what are you doing in my house!”

He was answered by the patter of little feet, and a sweet voice calling, “Dadda! Dadda, I here! You miss me?”

We Used to Sing

This week's memoir prompt asked you to dig deep to find what, from your childhood, you still know from heart.


"Chickery chick, cha-la, cha-la
Check-a-la romey in a bananika
Bollika, wollika, can't you see
Chickery chick is me?"

"Mairzy doats and dozy doats
And liddle lamzy divey
A kiddley divey too,
Wouldn't you?"

"Down in the meadow in a little bitty pool
Swam three baby fishies and a mama fishie too
"Swim" said the mama fishie, "Swim if you can"
And they swam and they swam right over the dam
Boop boop dit-tem dat-tem what-tem Chu!
Boop boop dit-tem dat-tem what-tem Chu!
Boop boop dit-tem dat-tem what-tem Chu!
And they swam and they swam right over the dam"

"I went to the Animal Fair
The birds and the beasts were there
The big baboon by the light of the moon
Was combing his auburn hair"

"Wintee Wee was painted on a saucer,
Song Fong Lo was on a fan.
Song Fong Lo, he came across her
On a dressing stand. 

Wee, please come with me,
And we'll go back to dreamy lotus land. 

You step off your saucer, I'll climb off my fan
And we'll go back to dreamy lotus land..."

These are songs my grandmother and my mother sang to us as we were growing up. 
We'd sing in the car on long trips. 
We'd start singing while playing cards. 

My grandmother had a very expressive face. During different songs, she'd roll her eyes or grin maniacally. 

My mother's version always had a swing or Big Band edge to them. 

Either way, I remember the words to them all. 

Except the last one. The words defy me to find them all. It's a sad love lost song. For Winty
Wee is made of china. She slips and falls from the dressing stand. 
(we had it wrong. Lyrics found: I posted them on RandomRants. The button is on the right.