Writing with Rox Weekly Prompt—A Hug from my Son (your everyday grateful)

This morning something wonderful happened before I drove Jude to school. In the spare hurried moments before we headed down to the car, I suddenly, rather whimsically, kneeled down on the kitchen floor and gave my boy a hug. Wonderful is that he hugged back. There, in the narrow space between the sink and the stove, we hugged each other, leaning in, cheek-to-cheek, resting, being.

Moments prior, we found ourselves in the usual morning routine of  standing in the kitchen, him a good few feet below me, milling around on his kiddie plane, every bit as busy as I am a few stories up, packing up his lunch, filling my Dunkin' Donuts coffee mug, reciting aloud what I need to remember to do next, to write down, etc. Amidst that stream of morning ritual, I suddenly remembered that about eight hours ago, my boy awoke in a flurry of tears, eyes wide and aching for understanding. "Okay Mama? Okay?"

Okay, what? But sure, honey, okay...whatever you need.

I was afraid the screams might wake the neighbors. When I attempted to comfort him, he recoiled. He scratched at his dinosaur sleeping bag like a cat to the leg of a couch. "I want to go first HERE!" he said, pointing at his sleeping bag for emphasis.

"Jude, it's okay, honey... you're dreaming. Come back to bed..."

"You come back to bed!" he demanded, standing in the doorway.

I did.



"Do you remember last night, Jude?" I later asked him. "Probably not," I answered, grateful when his playful morning eyes revealed no recollection of the nightmare he'd been wrestling with at midnight.  His big blue wide wondering eyes, deemed once "blue headlights" by his dad, were back to normal.

Was it that I never noticed before? Never noticed how soft his young cheek skin is? Never felt his little tough boy body surrender and soften into my open embrace, into the center of my heart? Never noticed his tiny little fingers wrapping beneath my curls and twirling them around for comfort? Had I never truly seen his softly falling blue eyes fighting to stay open just to catch one more sight of me before the next blink? Had I really never recognized that the little hands reaching back for me were outstretched all along?

Like many parents, it's easy to doubt my value and competency as a mother, especially when little JJ is screaming at me, fighting me, calling me "snothole," resisting my parental discipline and affection. It's easy to take all his five-year-old moodiness, anger and confusion personally, and to berate myself, at worst, believing someone could be doing a much better job at this. This morning I realized the toxicity of that doubt and why I must never doubt my role again. I am grateful that I took myself seriously as a mother this morning. It reminded me that I have missed way too many hugs from this young, much too-rapidly growing boy, who could easily outgrow the need for hugs like this if I forget how much he needs them. How much we both do. How much we all do.



What is your everyday grateful? What have you forgotten to be grateful for?

Writing with Rox Weekly Prompt—Raw Writing Live!

Yesterday in therapy I sat down with a foggy brain and said "I just don't know today." I just don't know. I told her I was sleep logged which happens only once in a very blue moon since i never get much sleep at all, but I said I just don't know.

"We don't have to do anything," she said.

That's funny, I said, because I was wondering if we could do some kundalini yoga together...or...

Did you hear what I said? she said, "We don't have to do anything."

Fancy that. Fancy that.

I'm just not feeling very...I'm foggy, I said. It's the perimenopause, the adrenal fatigue...

What is foggy she asked, "describe foggy."

I did.

Huh, she said. That's beautiful.

So there we sat with my fog and my content doing nothing. Not thinking. Not feeling. Just sitting. In the fog.


...

Shto etta? This, loved ones, is a sample of my raw writing from last week's Friday 
Writers. And, thanks to one of my gals in Friday Writers reminding me, I finally launched the new blog on raw writing so we can post any and all raw writings that come out of our writing together during class/groups/retreats/anyevers. 

So, what is raw writing, exactly? 

Raw Writing, which I also might sometimes call intuitive writing, spontaneous writing, flow writing, on-the-spot-writing, not being in your head writing, writing from your heart writing, etc, is a term that evolved out of my writing together in community for fifteen plus years. I must have been using this term of raw writing enough in classes, etc, that it sort of caught on as an actual thing and now, here it is, an actual thing. What it basically is, is the process and result of writing in the moment on any given topic/prompt, thought, word, name, memory, etc, that we all do together for about ten-thirty minutes, giver or take. Then we come together and share. This is usually everyone's favorite part of writing with me and why, I truly believe, they keep coming back to write together with me.

 I have been writing and sharing (reading our raw writing aloud) in groups of all ages, backgrounds, dynamics, purposes, etc and have come to realize that by sharing our raw, unedited stories in the safety of community, we are revealing our truth, our unedited imperfect truth, which is what writing should truly aim to do (if we are at all concerned with doing something honorable with our work). For the most part, this raw writing makes the best, the very best writing. That's not to say you can't fiddle with it or add to it later, but more often than not, it is just perfect on it's own.

Moreover, witnessing the Raw Writing of others is one of the greatest gifts we can ever know. A gift you will remember sooner or later, sometimes much later when you need it most. Aaaaaaaaaah, you might say, so that's what so and so was talking about in her story about getting lost at the beach. I'm so glad I have that story to guide me...


Want to try it? 

What was your latest experience with raw? Raw food? Raw beauty? Raw truth? Raw fill in the blank?  Write it out, follow the path, see where it goes...follow the raw energy! And if you'd like to share it here, or there, please do. And remember: no edits. Not even the grammar or lack thereof. Just the raw words translated on the page. Enjoy it. 

Hope to write with you soon! Raaaaaaaaawks

Writing with Rox Weekly Prompt—Fun Dip, anyone?

Halloween candy that Ma took from my pumpkin every year the day after Halloween

Snickers
Baby Ruth
Almond Joy
Almond Roca (if I got any)
Heath
anything with nuts










Last night after Jude spilled his Halloween loot across the carpet, the same way we did as kids (is this really genetic?), I couldn't help but greedily eye the treasure. "Nice job, JJ!" I said, recognizing some old familiars I'd long forgotten: the single white Life Saver from the nearing elder man who answered the door in a gray sweatshirt, white hair atoss, the always reliable Smarties from the big FUN PAK, the plain M&M's, as well as the latest in candy fashion: bloody brain gummy, yummy earth organic lollipop (?), Halloween colored Kit Kat, laffy taffy...

What candy did you take from your child's pumpkin today? Which did your parent take from yours?