(Almost!) Wordless Wednesday

     The Secret Garden opens one week from Friday. So I probably won't get much writing done. In fact, the time I normally spend writing in the mornings, was today spent on an e-mail to my cast with notes about last night's rehearsal. I have an amazing cast and crew who have made this process absolutely wonderful. So my wordless Wednesday for this week is a scene from last night's rehearsal. It was the first time we rehearsed in our performance space. It's a special kind of magic when that happens.

I wish you could hear the singers! Can you tell how awesome the backdrop is?

    

The Last Day

           This is a piece for the Red Dress Club’s memoir writing prompt. This week we were asked to remember kindergarten.  Mine your memories and write about the earliest grade you can recall. What was special? What was ordinary? What did you feel? Hear? See? Smell?

           

The Last Day

            My brother tries to wake me up, “Hey Sticky, get up! You have to get dressed for school.”

            It isn’t easy for me to get up in the mornings. I snuggle down into my green and white gingham bedspread. Now Dad comes in to get me up, “Come on, my little chickadee,” he says. “You don’t want to be late for your last day of kindergarten.”

Now I get up. My last day of taking the bus to school—it isn’t a regular bus. It’s a big brown station wagon with wooden paneling on the sides and a yellow and black sign that says school bus. Sometimes the man who drives it takes us through the car wash on the ride home. I’m going to miss that. Dad washes his car in the driveway.

I won’t miss being on the bus with Lisa though. She’s mean to me and says I wear boy’s clothes because my sweater is navy blue—not pink like hers. Lisa reminds me of Nellie Olsen from Little House on the Prairie. She is tall and pretty with blond ringlets and she isn’t very nice. Lisa isn’t going to the John F. Kennedy Elementary School next year and I won’t miss her one bit.

I can’t wait to be in first grade. I’m going to walk to school every day with my brothers. I’m already a really good reader. Someday I’m going to be able to read big books like my sister Katie. She doesn’t go to the Kennedy. Katie goes to West Junior High and takes books out of the library that have hundreds of pages and no pictures.

I get out of bed and get dressed. I don’t need to wear my sweater because it’s summer time now. We are leaving for vacation right after school today. I’ve never been  away before. Nana and Papa live near the beach so usually we see go there during the summer. My parents saved up all their money for this thing called a motor home. It’s a cross between a house and a car. We’re going to see the whole country this summer.

My brothers tell me they don’t have snack time or naptime in elementary school—just lunch in a big cafeteria. I don’t mind not having naps. I don’t usually sleep. I just lie on my cot and look around the room. I really like snack time in kindergarten though. Sometimes we get saltines with peanut butter. It’s the best kind of peanut butter. My mom buys the all-natural stuff with the teddy bear on the jar. It’s okay if you have lots of jelly! But if you’re having straight peanut butter on crackers you can’t beat the kind they serve in kindergarten. It’s smoother and sweeter and doesn’t stick to the roof of your mouth as much. Don’t tell Mom, but I like it better.

I eat my English muffin and drink my juice. The fruit my mom made for our last day of school party is in the refrigerator. She carved a basket out of a whole watermelon and filled it with strawberries and pineapple and melon balls. Most of the other moms will probably bring cookies. I love strawberries—but I like cookies even more.

The last day iss really fun. We play games all day and there are lots of cookies. At the end of the day, my teacher gives me a hug and tells me she will miss me. She gave me a big white bear with a green bow. And guess what? He’s going on vacation with me! My parents pick me up from kindergarten in the motor home. I’m going to have two adventures. First, I’m going to see the entire country and then I’m going to go to start first grade. I wonder what will happen next!

RDC: Sweet Discoveries

            This week’s Red Writing Hood prompt: write a piece, fiction or non-fiction, inspired by this delicious shot. Word limit is 600—I may have gone over ever so slightly.

            I’ve decided to use some of these Red Dress Club prompts to create a back story for the characters that I hope will some day inhabit a novel. I shared my first piece involving Michaela a few weeks back. Constructive criticism is most welcome! Personally, I think the title is a little dorky.

Sweet Discoveries

            Saturday morning cartoons sedate the kids while they eat their Honey Nut Cheerios. I’m  on my hands and knees in the bathroom trying not to gag as I wash the floor. How do three people manage to get a room this disgusting?

            John calls from downstairs, “Mom! Adam’s truck is in the driveway!”

            I smile at the thought of him dropping by and then catch sight of myself in the bathroom mirror. I’m wearing a bleach-stained Patriot’s tee shirt from the 2005 Superbowl that’s a little too tight and faded khaki shorts so old and stretched out they hang from my hips. My hair is in a ponytail and a headband to keep my mop of hair out of my face while I clean. My face isn’t even washed.

            I briefly consider trying to make myself look better but the task seems hopeless. “Besides,” I tell my reflection. “He’s dating a single mom—he can’t possibly be expecting a super model at 9am on a Saturday.”

            I wash my hands and head downstairs.

            “This is a surprise,” I say when I open the door.

            “I don’t mean to intrude,” he hands me a white bakery box tied with a string. “I have a new client who is a baker. She was really happy with my work and sent doughnuts over. I thought you and the kids would like them.”

            “The kids will be thrilled—thanks! Come on in. The coffee’s already made.” I tell him as I lead him to the kitchen.

            “I hope you weren’t in the middle of anything.”

            “Just cleaning. Nothing that won’t wait.”

            Brianna and John leap up when they see the box in my hands. “What’s that?” Brianna asks.

            “Are those doughnuts?” asks John.

            I look down at the box. There is a gold seal that reads Delores’ Doughnuts—terrible name I think. Adam reads my expression and laughs. “I didn’t come up with the name,” he tells me. “I’m just the landscaper not the marketing guru. Yes John, these might just be the most delicious doughnuts on earth.”

            “Turn the TV off and come in the kitchen,” I say.

            I pour milk and coffee and set out three plates. The kids reach for the gooiest looking chocolate doughnuts. Adam notices that I don’t take one for myself. “Aren’t you going to have one?” he asks.

            “I’m not a big fan of doughnuts.” I tell him.

            Adam reacts as if I told him I’m not a big fan of oxygen, “Really?”

            “I don’t dislike them,” I assure him. “I’ve just always felt like they weren’t worth the calories. If I’m going to splurge I’d rather have some Ben & Jerry’s or something fried.”

            He shakes his head and tells me, “These are different.”

            “Different?”

            “They’re gourmet doughnuts.”

            Gourmet doughnuts? I think to myself. Is that like gourmet Velveeta? Or gourmet corn dogs?

            “Try this,” Adam insists. He lifts a shiny pink confection out of the box like it’s a holy offering. “This one is raspberry margarita.”

            “Really?” I begin to cave. I love the combination of raspberry and lime. I guess he’s been paying attention in the short time we’ve been dating. The doughnut is small and the icing is the color of raspberry sherbet with a few white and pink sprinkles. He holds it closer to my mouth and I take a bite. It reminds me of the raspberry lime rickeys my grandmother used to make when I was a kid. So sweet but saved from being too sweet by the sharp tang of citrus. I take another bite. I’m hooked. He’s right. These are not just doughnuts.

            “Well,” he says. “What do you think?”

            “These are amazing,” I confess. “What is that grin on your face about?”

            “You just look really cute with pink frosting on your nose.”

            I wipe it away and he adds, “And you look really hot in that Patriot’s shirt.”

            Well, he was right about the doughnut. Maybe he’s right about that too.

Germ Warfare on Standardized Testing

            Yesterday after I got the boys on the bus I did 50 minutes of cardio, wrote a rough draft of a short story, did some correspondence, and tried on 80% of the clothes in my closet looking for things to wear for the weekends of my play (I’ve poured my heart and soul into this project for eight weeks, I’m not wearing jeans and sneakers). By 2:00 I was feeling somewhat accomplished but a little hazy so I set my alarm to go off in 40 minutes. I read for ten and closed my eyes for a thirty-minute power nap. And then the phone rang.

            I don’t have caller ID because I’m cheap frugal but I absolutely knew who was calling.

            “Hello?”

            “Hi. It’s Fran Nelson* the nurse at the Hancock School. It’s Owen this time.”

            Well that was nice. At least it was a different kid today. Fran and I have talked a lot over the last two years. She and I have been through hives, vomiting, a chronic cough, an anxiety attack and a variety of abrasions and contusions. We talk so often I’m thinking of inviting her to be in the Christmas card picture next year.

            “Owen is running a temperature of 100.8”

            “I’ll be right there.” I told her. I bid goodbye to my lovely down pillow and memory foam mattress topper and pulled on my clothes and headed out the door.

            I wasn’t terribly surprised by the call. Owen had been complaining the day before of a headache and a little nausea. He seemed fine otherwise, so I attributed it to stress. It’s MCAS testing at school this week. MCAS testing is one of the standardized testing hoops kids jump through here in the Commonwealth of Massachusetts. I’m not a fan of standardized testing. I understand why people feel we need them, but I feel like they suck the joy out of learning and being a kid. Oh, and they stress out my baby—and that just pisses me off irritates me.

            When we got home, Owen immediately fell asleep on the couch. Poor thing clearly wasn’t doing so well. Around 3:00 he woke up and we cuddled up and watched an episode of “The Jacky Chan Adventures” from Netflix instant view. After the first episode he started getting sick. Really sick.

I wasn’t feeling that well myself—it was time to get James from the bus stop. There I was rubbing the back of one kid while his little brother was about to get off the bus three blocks away. If I took the time to clean Owen up and get him into the car my six-year-old would get off the bus and there would be no mommy there.

I was already feeling a little guilty about sending Owen to school in the first place. But I knew I had no other choice. 

“Owen,” I said. “I’m going to leave you here while I get James. Okay?”

“Okay,” he said. It didn’t seem to bother him one bit. It bothered me a lot.

“I’m going to lock the door. Don’t open it for anyone.”

“Okay.”

I gave him a hug and left him alone in the house for the very first time. I knew he’d be fine. He was too sick to get into any mischief and I’d only be gone ten minutes or so. But I didn’t like it. I didn’t want to leave my sick kid alone for a second. But that’s part of the parenting gig, isn’t it? We just have to do the best we can with the options and information we have available to us. Besides, I have a chance to make up for it today. I not only have Owen home with me, but James woke up feverish this morning too. Looks we’re having a “Jackie Chan Adventures” marathon today.

*name changed

(Almost) Wordless Wednesday

            On Tuesday nights I have rehearsal and my husband takes the boys to the Y so we only have a few minutes after he gets home to touch base. We need a little time to catch up on our day and keep each other posted on any number of things. This never rarely happens without interruption. Last night was no exception. I was trying to let Dan know about the standardized testing the boys are going through this week. Both boys kept coming into the kitchen with various urgent matters like informing us the new Lego Star Wars game for the PS3 is coming out this week and to ask what’s for dinner.

            When I heard, “Hey Mom!” for the tenth time, I nearly blew my top. Then I looked around and saw this.

There's a wizard in the kitchen.

            “Hey Mom! I’m Harry Potter!” said James. He crafted the glasses and wand out of Legos. I didn’t get mad. I grabbed the camera.