Category: writing

All Grown Up Now…

Published on by Mae @ Rainydayinmay12 Comments



This week’s writing prompt from Mama Kat is 1.) The moment I realized I was a grown up


In a lot of ways I think I always felt more grown up than I should have. I grew up conversing and connecting with other adults and that never really went away. At seventeen I felt nearer to forty than anything adolescent. It was my twenty-fifth birthday though, that really shifted my adulthood-self perception axis… 

I was working in a group home, happy and fulfilled, at the time. That morning, however, waking up slapped me in the face with the most severe depression I’ve ever had. I was well aware of the details of my life and the journey that had led me to that place, but suddenly the weight of it all felt far too heavy to embrace any ownership in. 

I was twenty-five years old… 
This was an age that had never scared me before. Suddenly though, I realized that- at 25- I was already divorced. I was surrounded by pseudo-religious people who reassured me of the completely sinful notion of marrying anyone else. Ever. I had it ingrained in my brain that I had messed that up, and my marital chance had passed… 

Twenty Five felt terribly young for such a sentence… 

Having had an emergency hysterectomy the October before- despite how well I had handled the entire situation before that morning- suddenly the notion that I was 25 and divorced {never to wed again}, deep in the trenches of sudden menopause and never going to be a mother… I felt old. 
Prematurely old. 

Every decision felt deeper, bigger, weightier, meatier… 

I had good friends who were graduating from college and still partying it up. When they had started college I had been a wife, desperately trying to get {and stay} pregnant while worrying about things like how to pay the electric bill and what to make for dinner… and now, just one degree (for them) later and I was facing my death sentence. 

That day sucked… 

Despite any maturity I’d had, beyond my years, though- that day I grew into an adult. I realized how much moments matter, and how things flee beyond our control or wishes. I caught a glimpse of the giant world beyond me and my immediate one… I learned that I wasn’t my circumstances, I was more than that… 

Some of those things are the toughest lessons we face. 

Thankfully, it didn’t last. I don’t care that I had a hysterectomy (evil menopausal health and body complications aside) because i LOVE my kids… I don’t want any other kids. I don’t want babies with my nose and Chw’s eyes… I want kids with the eyes and noses attached to the faces of THESE kids! In fact, it was loving my two older kids (who were 10 and 11 then) that pulled me through that. They weren’t legally able to be “mine” then, but I loved them as if they were… And Chw and I reconciled. And things are really good. 

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I sense something, A presence I have not felt since…

Published on by Mae @ Rainydayinmay10 Comments
If I were a broken record, I would be stuck saying something about choices. 
Criticisms for my kids’ choices… Urging Genny to really consider her choices… Criticism for myself and my own stupid choices… 
Choosing to lose patience. 
Have no patience. 
Facebook instead of writing. 
Computer instead of a walk in the sunshine. 
Fast food over making dinner… Ok. In all fairness that decision hasn’t been made in forever because we don’t really do the fast food thing- (Panda Express aside) 
But still… choices… 
Last night, the second my husband walked in the door, Genny sort of stepped over into the dark side. She does this a lot, actually. She becomes the most condensed version of a class clown that you can imagine. It’s intense in a hyperactive kid shooting up pixie stix kinda way… 
Did I mention that the period between him walking in the door and her going to bed last night lasted about twelve decades??? She just gets so over stimulated… Do you know what really helps that? Mowing the lawn. I’m not kidding… She’s actually been asking, for the past two weeks, when she can start mowing the lawn. Even she admits it helps. It’s weird, but whatever. 
Anyway… Throughout those said decades, as I aged and greyed with each passing minute- I kept mentally urging her to take a deep breath and consider her choices. 
Choices… 
My choices. Me. 
Can I love my kids so much that they will just make the right choices? No. I can’t. As ideal of an idea as that may be- it is completely impossible. And maybe my highly opinionated theory that if my kids loved themselves a little more they might make better choices is right on the nose… but I can’t make them love themselves. I can’t air up their self esteem so that they soar above the gutter style choices I fear for them. 
But I can choose differently. 
I can choose to love me. I can choose to do what I need. I can end school with Genny, good day or bad, at a specific time so that I can write. I can do that… and it isn’t selfish. It isn’t horrible parenting… It is meeting my needs so that I am better equipped to meet hers. 
And added bonus: I’m slowly teaching her to value herself too… 
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Rays of Sunlight…

Published on by Mae @ Rainydayinmay14 Comments
5.) Write about someone who made your childhood bearable.

Mama’s Losin’ It

   Like the majority of us, my childhood was less than ideal. Despite all of the ugly circumstances to steal my innocence though- I was blessed with having some truly amazing people around me. I could write an entire series of memoirs on all of the extraordinary people I knew, as a girl, but always topping that list would be my next door neighbor Melanie, and her family…

  As surely as the day itself rolled around, early Saturday mornings found me slamming a big bouncy ball against the side of Melanie’s house. It was my beckon, for her- my rooster call, if you will. Unfortunately, the side of their house was the wall of her parents bedroom. It’s funny now, but as tired parents in a house full of sleeping children- i bet they failed to see the humor then. I grew up as much within the security of her playhouse, as she did. We grew taller while we were singing about Jesse’s Girl, building Barbie worlds out of anything we could get our hands on and eventually giggling about boys and watching music videos…

  Growing up, she was my dearest friend and her family brought infinite rays of sunlight to pierce my sadness. While my home was one shrouded in darkness and secrets- I remember her house bright and family filled. Every holiday birthed a reason to celebrate with gigantic family gatherings and cups overflowing with happy times and memories; every school morning led to a rushed family together- eating chorizo and eggs around the breakfast table. I could go days feeling things akin to loss and abandonment and then venture just across our fence and suddenly (unexplainably) find myself bubbling with laughter and feeling as light as air.

   Melanie’s dad taught me that dads are around to love their kids. He taught me that love sometimes looked playful and funny, sometimes stern and always nurturing and present.

  Melanie’s mom taught me that it’s a mom’s place to create an environment that her kids feel safe to grow into themselves in. She also showed me that a mom fights for what is right, and always fights for her kids.

  Growing up, I was head over heals in love with Melanie’s older brother and scared-to-death of her older sister. I was sure he was the only boy I’d ever love while she was the meanest person alive…Since growing up, I’ve learned those last two things weren’t true… In fact, I think the most appealing thing about the silly girlhood notion of marrying her brother was being an actual part of their family and her sister is really awesome and I sort of wish I could runaway for a long weekend to hang out with her…

   Honestly, when I look back on those days I don’t know how I made it through the first twelve years of my life unscathed. (and I’m not entirely… but a lot of healing has taken place.) I know that there was no way I would be even half as ok as I am, if it weren’t for them. When the time and opportunity came for someone to step in, on my behalf, and fight for me- they stepped up for battle. Though it felt like a loss saying goodbye, those months later, i still see the impact of their unconditional love stitched all over my life. Twenty three years after I was no longer the annoying little white girl slamming a ball against their bedroom- Melanie’s parents remain two of the best and most amazing people I’ve ever met…
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Doing the Friday dance…

Published on by Mae @ Rainydayinmay4 Comments
i haven’t been able to find a good chunk of time to work on the manuscript, in weeks, and I’m pretty sick over this… Just yesterday a girlfriend, at lunch, was reassuring me that I’ll always have my writing (or something like that, i forget) and I just cringed… Anyway, while my book sits collecting metaphorical hard drive dust, at least I’ve got blog posts, right? The one, from this week, that I am most proud of would be the one about my foster mom Julie. I have a photo of her, holding my adorably chubby Genny, sitting beside my bed. It has caught my eye every morning this week…

Bittersweet…

Moving on…

Best thing i stumbled across, on the web, was this post, which is absolutely WORTH the click… IT IS Great. Moving. Identifiable… 

All week I’ve had things on my mind… The two most pressing were the situation in Japan, which is just so heartbreaking… And Lucas, who turned 22 on Sunday. We miss him so much and, of course, would rather he been home. Even so, we are so proud of him for his selflessness and willingness to serve our country. Plus he has kidney damage, which sucks…

Top five moments were:
1} uncomfortable but vital heart to heart discussions.
2} dinner and hanging out with those friends that are your forever friends.
3} going to a crazy, but fantastic interior design sale followed by an incredible bakery lunch, with a friend.
4} refinishing/recovering chairs with my husband.
5} finally finding a vegetarian cookbook that i love. 


This week I’ve really been loving Satellite, by Guster. {If you aren’t familiar, I encourage a listen. SUCH a great track!} 
Best recipe was definitely this Burrito Casserole… We had friends over and even though loved it. 
For school we studied the judicial system, state government and did an indepth study of the Salem Witch Trials.

I’m reading All Is Vanity… I stumbled upon it, at the library, and was thrilled. Drowning Ruth is one of my favorite books. I am really excited to read it.

Next week I’m looking forward to birthdays. Spring break, swimming, birthday parties, friends, gift wrap, cake… What’s not to look forward to? 

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What’s in a mom…

Published on by Mae @ Rainydayinmay10 Comments
Julie was a stranger, to me, on the typically hot August afternoon when we met. Her words hinted of a southern tone, and her smile made me question her sincerity when she spoke. 
Well, maybe it was my past and my already incredibly distrusting twelve year old self which made me distrust the authenticity in her words. I learned to trust her above anyone else… 
In time I learned, from her, that everyone is worthy of a cautious glance but that with caution comes the ability to use wisdom to garner whether or not they are trust worthy. Indispensable advice! 
When she told my disjointed and moody middle school self that my jeans would go, first, through the wringer washer and then hang to dry- perfectly smoothed out- on the clothes line, i thought she was trying to make my life crazy. Twenty Two years later, (Gosh, am i that old?) though I wouldn’t be caught dead using a wringer washer, I still won’t dry my jeans in the dryer. They last forever, looking as new as the day I bought them.
After years and years, (well into my adulthood) of thinking I had to go at it alone, Julie showed me that I could go to her for anything, even after I was grown. And so I would… 
A sense of humor is something most of us are born with, but because of Julie and her love of beauty and funny and the miraculous combination of both- I learned to laugh. To truly laugh, lighthearted and with honesty. 
Though I prefer to wax them, and still hate to tweeze, it was Julie that taught me the importance of eye brow shaping. It was Julie present and comforting on the first day of my period. For nearly every defining, adolescent mom moment- Julie stood in the gap. 
She claimed me as her own. She adopted me in her heart, and even proclaimed when I was nearing my thirtieth birthday that she was working on a plan to get rich so she could hire an attorney to adopt me for real. She was joking, of course. At that point she had been my mom for the greater part of seventeen years. Over those seventeen years, myths about family were debunked and I learned the truths… the truths about blood verses heart and love verses choice… I learned things there aren’t words for. 
She taught me to get through the tough days. The screaming child rages and the moments when I felt completely un-cut-out to be a mom. She was a phone call away from most of them and always happy to talk me through them. 
It was her willingness to love, to hold close and to sometimes see past which taught me to love on my own. To love my own children, not birthed from my womb. To be there, to listen. To love in honesty, to love them authentically… 
When Julie died, I learned a lot too… How not to reach for the phone during a mommy meltdown moment… How not to tear my house apart searching for her noodle recipe and then just give up and dial her number… Eventually I grew to see the immense blessings in loving her and being loved by her. I learned to measure my moments and cherish them because there truly is no guarantee… 

Mama’s Losin’ It



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