Jessica Whitmore

My son, who is in 3rd grade, and I were working on colorful adjectives as part of his school work today.

Which is the stronger adjective?  Cold Chilly

“Mommy, why is chili not chilly?”

That was followed by:

“Let’s start a blog called Kory’s Questions. And I can post my questions. And people can answer our questions. And we can pay the best answer $10,000.”

Okay. So I’m not paying the best answer $10,000, but how would you answer his question?

Why is chili not chilly?

Even though I didn’t think I’d have time, I’m finding myself participating in the Slice of Life March challenge through Two Writing Teachers.  Jump over to their site to find inspiring writers and teachers sharing a slice of their day.

Who is your hero?  Tell why that person is your hero.

My 8-year-old son is participating in an online writing class over the next two weeks.  The session is focusing on “Writing to a Prompt.”    The prompt happens to be about your hero.  The first lesson is on brainstorming.  I got a glimpse of his brainstorming list after his class.

Mommy.  Mommy is a hero because she cooks.

Daddy. Daddy is a hero because he makes money.

God. God is a hero because he made me.

God is a real hero. He does everything.

My heart melted at all three. And also chuckled that I am a hero because I cook.  I’ve come along way from turkey sandwiches and Ramen Noodles in college.

Of course when I asked him about his hero homework for tomorrow, he said, “Oh I forgot to list Steve from Minecraft and Spiderman.  My (online) teacher said I can list make-believe heroes too.”

Tomorrow he has to tell his (online) teacher which hero will be his focus for his paper.

Which one does he want to write about?

Steve from Minecraft. Although he hasn’t mentioned yet why Steve is his hero.

It’s okay. At least I made his brainstorming list.

Who is your hero?  And why?

I’m attempting to post on Tuesdays as part of the weekly Slice of Life over at Two Writing Teachers.

Two bags of clothes sit in my garage.

I wish they were going to friends or a collection box or a donation center.

They will go in the trash.

–

I don’t check pockets when I do laundry.

My mom never checked pockets either.

I have washed (and dried) toys, pagers, money, wallets, coins, wrappers, crayons, chapstick.

–

I washed three fish oil tablets left in my sweatshirt pocket – along with a vitamin d capsule and a multivitamin.

Fish oil is supposed to help my skin glow, my body better function, my muscles not ache.

It was not supposed to ruin my clothes.

–

Washed fish oil horridly smells like: FISH that has gone bad.

I rewashed, rewashed in bleach, covered in baking soda, soaked in vinegar, rewashed.

Nothing could remove the smell.

–

My son’s favorite science center t-shirt – gone.

One of my son’s Spiderman sock from Christmas – ruined.

My sweatshirt – destroyed.

–

Random socks, little pairs of underwear, little pairs of jeans.

My husband’s workout sweatshirt.

All are wet and sitting in tied bags in my garage.

-

I wait to put them in the outside garbage can.

They smell like fish.

I don’t want to attract the cats that wander in the court.

–

I should have checked the pockets.

Better yet, I should have taken my fish oil right away.

This laundry day literally STINKS!

–

I’m  attempting to post every Tuesday as part of the weekly Slice of Life over at Two Writing Teachers.

10 years ago.  

10 years ago I said hello to my first baby.
10 years ago I said goodbye to my son Aidan.

10 years ago I waited and waited to hear that first cry.
10 years ago I heard that cry after we told the Dr. to stop CPR.

10 years ago I watched my son breathe and heard his coos.
10 years ago I saw his breaths stop while he was in my arms.

10 years ago I counted six fingers on each hand and six toes on each foot.
10 years ago I cut off a curl of his reddish hair to tuck away.

10 years ago my body had just given birth to a baby.
10 years ago I left the hospital empty handed.

10 years ago we planned our son’s funeral – tiny casket, songs, custom headstone.
10 years ago I sent my mother and mother-in-law to pick out a baby outfit for burial.

10 years ago my dad hugged me tight and no words were needed.
10 years ago my father-in-law told me “well done” at the grave site.

10 years ago we were given comfort from others.
10 years ago we gave comfort to others.

10 years ago I felt fear, relief, peace, joy, sadness, loss, love, laughter, tears.
10 years ago I fell more in love with my husband as we made the ultimate decisions for our son.

10 years ago.

It seems like yesterday.

It seems like forever ago.

10 years ago.

—

If you want to read more about Aidan, his diagnosis, and his story, please check out this previous blog post.

How do I balance it all?  Sometimes I ask that of myself.  Today I realized one of the systems I have in place.

Not only am I a wife, a (wanna be) athlete, and a freelance writer and editor. I am also a homeschooling mama.  We homeschool for many reasons, which I won’t go into today.

But today I realized how I can make it all work (successfully).  We use an online/virtual charter school as our method of homeschooling.  Basically what this means is that my son has a “real” teacher he has to interact with throughout the week.  His curriculum is already scheduled without my extra work.  His materials are sent every August in boxes.  All I have to do is review, prep and teach. And the best part:  he has online required classes, which it is really cool to watch him work his way around the computer in his classes – the skills he learns!

Today I need to work on a story due later this week.  I need to make phone calls. I need to learn about people. I need to prepare to be able to write tonight after my house is silent.

And the reason I love the way we homeschool. Today my son interacts with his teacher and his scheduled online classes. Tomorrow he interacts with his teacher and his scheduled online classes.

Three hours today. Three hours tomorrow. Three hours for me to focus on what I need to do to be a better me while making him a better him.

I’m  attempting to post every Tuesday as part of the weekly Slice of Life over at Two Writing Teachers.

I stare at the blank screen.  I’ve been waiting all week for inspiration for this post.  I can’t find it.

I take that back. I’ve had inspiration, but it has come in the forms of things I can’t, shouldn’t, don’t need to blog.

The small details of frustrations. The large issues of concern.  The wishes for drama-free. The confidences held.

In those moments of inspiration, I can create beautiful blog posts. Sentences that speak healing.  Words that bring comfort. Phrases that make the various situations all better.

The sentences, words and phrases don’t find their place on the blog but are mostly released elsewhere. Some are conveyed verbally. Some are sent privately.  And many just stay in my head.

Maybe someday the sentences, words and phrases will be ready, available and released to blog for others to find healing, hope and “I’m not alone.”

But now is not that time.

How is that for a very cryptic post – don’t worry – I’m fine.

I’m  attempting to post every Tuesday as part of the weekly Slice of Life over at Two Writing Teachers.

On the Prairie

I feel refreshed, restored, renewed

On the Prairie

I see the darkest night, the brightest sunrise, the biggest open sky

On the Prairie

I smell scared skunks, fields of fresh dirt, farms of cattle

On the Prairie

I hear the wind, familiar voices, grandpa’s polka

On the Prairie

I find healing, hope, direction

On the Prairie

I remember, reflect, dream

On the Prairie

I breathe.

Every November, my family and I pack up our van and drive 20+ hours to visit family in the Northern Plains. I cherish this time of “escape” from my normal routine.

I’m  attempting to post every Tuesday as part of the weekly Slice of Life over at Two Writing Teachers.