Yeah, Write

Unleashing the Power of School Lunch

It turns out that the topic of school lunch has an almost magical ability to draw out of people authentic memories and stories from their childhood. It certainly did for me. Who knew?

And that's the topic of the "big idea" that I'm sharing inside the FREE Big Idea Festival over at bigpictureclasses.com today. (Join in on the fun here. Today's the last day!)

I've got an 8-minute video that's all about writing for the sake of writing (and also school lunch), a memory dump for you to read (brought to you by Southland Elementary School, circa 1984), a challenge for you to try, and the rest of the scrapbook page you see below. Yes, that's me in the 2nd grade. Aren't you just dying to pinch my cheeks?

My big idea was inspired by Anne Lamott, author of the book Bird by Bird: Some Instructions on Writing and Life, which I originally borrowed from the library but then had to purchase because it's that good. 

Here's a portion of the lengthy quote that I shared in my video. This is Lamott's quick memory dump, an exercise she frequently has her writing students try, and it's focused solely on the sandwiches from her elementary school years:

"Your sandwich was the centerpiece, and there were strict guidelines. It almost goes without saying that store-bought white bread was the only acceptable bread. There were no exceptions. If your mother made the white bread for your sandwich, you could only hope that no one would notice. You certainly did not brag about it, any more than you would brag that she also made headcheese. And there were only a few things that your parents could put in between the two pieces of bread. Bologna was fine, salami and unaggressive cheese were fine, peanut butter and jelly were fine if your parents understood the jelly/jam issue.”

“Grape jelly was best, by far, a nice slippery comforting sugary petroleum-product grape. Strawberry jam was second; everything else was iffy. Take raspberry, for instance—...It felt like there were all these tiny little pod people in it. It was Body-Snatcher jam.”

When you're overwhelmed by what to say or where to start, Lamott suggests starting by describing solely what you can see through a 1-inch picture frame. So she started with the sandwich.

When I delved into my own childhood memories from the Southland Elementary cafeteria, images of "hot lunch" surfaced the strongest for me, although I think I brought "cold lunch" from home in my blue Smurfs lunch box just as often.

In my own memory dump, which you'll find inside the Big Idea Festival classroom today, I share a little bit of everything, including the dramatic story of a classmate who choked on a hot dog and was saved from certain death by Mr. Wright the Janitor and his knowledge of the Heimlich manuever.

Does anyone else remember these lunchtrays? And did you know you can purchase them on etsy.com and even Amazon?

This is the lunchbox I had as a child. I can remember exactly how it smelled at the end of the day when my mom opened it to empty out the crumpled plastic baggies filled with remnants and crumbs.

Today's the last day you can register for the festival, and once you register, you're free to go back and watch all previous 13 big ideas shared so far—and you'll have eternal access to everything! I'd love to see you share your own school-lunch memories inside the Big Idea Festival for your chance to win something cool.

 

The ABC's of Keira: D

Keira Jane's very first residence (and only residence so far) is the red brick house on Diamond Way, where she has spent many blissful hours chasing the dog around the backyard. She said "Dada" long before she said "Mama," and in fact called BOTH of us "Dada" for quite some time. One of my favorite sounds in the world is her shrieking an excited, high-pitched, and almost breathless "Daddy!" when he comes home from work each day. I predict that she will be a little Daddy's Girl for sure.

Grandpa Don (aka "Papa" Don) is one of Keira's favorite people on earth. When she sees his yellow truck in front of the house, she nearly starts shaking with excitement and runs around the room yelling "Papa! Papa!" She spends a couple of hours with grandpa Don and grandma Bev every Monday morning, and ever since she was itty bitty, he'd carry her around the house and yard for hours, patiently giving names to everything they see. "Keira, this is a lamp. It turns on and off like this. Yes, that's a mirror. Can you see the baby in the mirror? Keira, that's a school bus out the window. It's picking up all the kids to take them home."

Also, the two of them dance together. Grandpa walks to the CD closet and allows Keira to pick any CD she wants (which might be Emmylou Harris or George Strait, or someone in between). He puts the music on, and the two of them waltz and/or bounce around the living room. I'll never forget peering around the corner and seeing the two of them, 80 years apart but truly kindred spirits, gliding around the blue carpet to the sounds of classic country.

Even when she's not in the arms of grandpa Don, this girl loves to dance, as demonstrated by this video from when she was 11 months old:

She also has an extra grandpa who lives next door to us, Mr. Dominguez, who gave her a little Santa dress for Christmas and just lights up like a Christmas tree every time he sees her. He also gave her two ceramic ducks that his wife painstakingly painted years ago, just because she so admired a couple of larger ceramic ducks that adorned his coffee table one day during a visit. (She'd point and announce "guck! guck!"). Such kindness.

Keira has a cousin named Derek, who's five years older, but so kind and gentle with her. When we go visit them in Arizona, he is just fascinated by everything she does. He even offers input on how we should style her hair. ("I like it when she has a horn on top of her head!" Horn = single ponytail like Pebbles from the Flintstones.)

Keira with cousin Derek when she was just a few weeks old.

Her uncle Dan was the first of her non-grandparent relatives to pay her a visit when she was brand, brand new. He's a devoted uncle, for sure, and he can always get little "KJ" (his favorite nickname for her) to laugh. His name was also the first of my siblings' names Keira managed to pronounce. Granted, it's not super hard to say "Dan," if you already know how to say "Dad," but Uncle Dan still claims a solid victory over Aunt Alli in this arena.

I can't believe how small she was!

Because her mama fell in love with the scent of Dreft, Keira's clothing is still washed separately to retain that baby-fresh scent as long as possible—19 months and counting.

Before I go, Keira's Aunt Alli (or "Addie" as Keira calls her) told me there's one D word I simply could not leave out of this post, at that word is: dainty. Yes, our Keira has always been a little peanut, weighing in at just 20 pounds at 19 months old. By contrast, she has a baby cousin, one year and 3 days younger than she is, who is now tipping the scales at 22 pounds. While I definitely think she's a tough cookie, she's downright delicate compared to her two closest cousins in age, who are both boys and both large and in charge.

Little Keira Jane sandwiched between Graham (1 year younger) and Townes (8 months older).

Breaking the Baby Stereotype

She'll mingle with goats.

And ride on a pony that's 50 times her size.

But she won't go near a baby bunny. Or a baby lamb. Or a baby duck, turkey, or chick. No way. Not a chance. And the look of terror that crosses her face when she's coaxed to reach out and pet one of these tiny creatures cannot be described.

Hmmm. Big animals = climb aboard! No big deal. Tiny animals = climb the nearest adult's pant leg, whether or not you know the adult to whom the leg belongs.

Other Ways Keira Breaks the Baby Mold
She barely tolerates milk, but she loves imported French mineral water. LOVES it.

She never developed stranger anxiety. She has always let almost anyone hold her, at least for a second or two.

She'd rather drink water than juice.

She likes low-fat Mozzarella much better than higher-fat Cheddar. In general, she automatically dislikes anything with calories in it, which is unfortunate since we're doing everything we can to help her bust out of that 5th percentile in height and weight.

She doesn't mind taking naps. You mention "nap" or "bedtime," and she starts humming her favorite lullaby. (If you hum something other than her favorite lullaby while rocking her to sleep, she will interrupt you.)

But there's one way that Keira is a very sterotypical 18-month-old toddler: she was petrified of the Easter Bunny at the mall. She temporarily sprouted kitten claws just so she could cling to my sweater for dear life.

The ABC's of Keira: C

Keira loves fruit of all kinds, but especially cherries, and her mom loves it when Mt. Rainier cherries are in season, because they don't stain clothes and fingers. Dried cranberries are also a favorite.

The first baby sign she used on her own was for cracker (take one fist and knock it on the opposite elbow), and she'd loudly shout "cackoo" when she wanted one. But now she's decided "cackoo" also means cookie, snack, and just food in general, so it's not always easy to produce the item she's actually trying to ask for. She mastered the word cheese fairly early as well (although, oddly, she doesn't care for cheddar, only white cheeses). She pronounces it exactly like one of her other favorite things, namely keys.

Her first favorite song was by a hippie band called Canned Heat. As young as 4 months old, she'd start dancing and bobbing whenever dad played the song "Goin Up the Country" for her. (Her daddy rediscovered this long-forgotten song in the movie The Blind Side.) And it is a sight to watch this girl dance. I think her spine must be made of rubber.

She loves to color and draw, but not on paper, unfortunately. She'll keep the crayon or other drawing implement near the paper for about 30 seconds, and then she wants to draw in 3d. And nothing is safe.

She has a cousin named Carson who is a full generation older than she is.

We dressed her as a cow for her second Halloween, which was somewhat ironic, since milk and other dairy products were problematic for her at the time. She's now outgrown both the costume and the dairy sensitivity.

And while cute hardly seems adequate, that's a word I simply can't leave out. She'll always be my cutie-pie.

The ABC's of Keira: B

Until the last few months, when Keira really started experimenting with sounds and language, I didn't realize how important the letter B is to a baby. And since it's such a simple sound to make, I wonder if that's how babies came to be called babies in the first place.

Our blond and blue-eyed darling now says a handful of words, that all sound the same ("buh-buh" or "bah-bah"), but I can distinguish between them fairly easily by context.

She says:

baby (referring to herself, to her Baby Stella doll, and to random babies she sees in pictures)
bye-bye
bellybutton (sounds a bit more like "bey-buhhh")
bottle
binkie (sounds like bi-bi)
booby*

*Being a bottle-fed baby from the start, Keira never had a real need to be fully acquainted with this word, but one day a bit of mom's cleavage was escaping the confines of her clothing, and Keira poked it and made her signature inquiring "uh?" sound. Since we spend all day pointing at and identifying things, mom (aka me) replied "booby," quite absentmindedly. She plucked out her binkie and repeated "buh-buh." And, unlike the many other words we say all day long, this one has stuck. It's time to be careful what I say around the little sponge. She now also pokes other people's boobies and says "buh-buh" without prompting. I just grin and shrug.

In other B news, Keira's adoring grandma Beverly keeps her dressed beautifully in fashionable duds. Keira has an aunt Becky, who adores her too, and cousins named Breanna and Brock. And she has a favorite bear that she cuddles during naptime. Her birthmom, Anneliese, has a larger bear just like this one, and we took pictures of Keira with her baby bear every month until her first birthday.

The ABC's of Keira: A

A is a very important letter in Keira's little life.

First of all, she was adopted at just 2 days old. The gift of adoption has blessed more lives than she, or her birth parents, may ever know.

Her mother's name is Angie and her birthmom (or "tummy mommy" which might be the term we'll use until she's old enough to understand this in more depth) is Anneliese. She has seven aunts who love her more than words can say.

And of course the word adorable has to make it onto my list. Her perfect little features, so unique to my little girl, strike me daily with wonder. And yes, I even think it's cute when she screeches like a baby pterodactyl all day long. Annoying? Yes, but adorable too.

All in all, I am in awe at the blessings and challenges of motherhood. Perhaps it is because I had to wait for so long, but this journey, though difficult, has been immensely rewarding. And I look forward to what the future brings.

 

Tiny baby Keira, with her aunt Alli, wearing a little knit hat from her aunt Karste.

About the A illustration
A while back, I found a cool old children's book at a thrift store (D.I. for you locals) called Peppermint Fence, which I promptly tore apart to make a notebook. But I had to save this cute alphabet section, "Nonsense Alphabet," in the back of the book for some future project. When I recently stumbled across the torn-out pages, I had the idea to write about Keira's life, one letter at a time.

I'll post a few new letters per month until I complete all 26. Feel free to join me in this journaling project, and post links to your own letter-by-letter ruminations in the comments section!

The Truth About Babies

I have 10 nieces and nephews, ranging in age from 12 years to 2 months, so I knew this before, as everyone does and mentions a million times a day, all over the world.

But now that I have a 14-month-old toddling around my house (who is, at the moment, emptying my purse onto the floor and exploring every compartment, object, and zipper), I know this personally, viscerally, completely.

The truth is, babies grow SO fast.

Yeah, I knew that. Everyone knows that. But then I see a picture like this one, taken just a year ago, and I'm halted in my tracks.

This photo captures my every sense. I'm stunned at the sight of her tiny fist next to my grandpa's thumb—how his massive welder's hands cradle her little pajama-clad body.

I look at this picture, and I am instantly enveloped (as Keira must have been) in that familiar, musky scent that always clings to grandpa's plaid cowboy shirts: a combination of Old Spice, horses, and that sandpaper-like soap he keeps in his downstairs bathroom. He smells like love and comfort and dependability.

At the same time, I'm drinking in the fresh newness of Keira, all slathered in baby lotion, with her whisper-soft cotton clothes carrying traces of Dreft baby detergent. She smells like hope and miracles and the future.

I want to live in this picture, basking in the light from the window that is filtered through the branches of my mom's Christmas tree, newly in love with my new baby daughter, remembering the hours I spent cocooned on grandpa's lap when I was little.

This is nostalgia. This is the power of a photo.

Journaling Prompt
Find a photo that causes an emotional response in you and write about what you see or hear or smell as you imagine yourself inside that photo. Describing what something smells like is not an easy thing to do, and almost whatever you write will feel inadequate to you, but it is a wonderful exercise for helping you connect very deeply to a memory. Try it! And share it on your blog, in your journal, or on a scrapbook page.

Note: as you try to describe what something or someone smells like, you are bound to discover the woeful lack of adequate synonyms for the word "smell." After checking my favorite online Thesaurus, I even Googled the phrase "other words for smell" and came across a new-to-me website, the "Super Thesaurus," that clearly does NOT know what a verb is. Here's a screen capture:

Watch Me on Internet TV

MyCraftChannel.com launched yesterday, and my new show with Wendy Smedley, Books & Crafts, debuts today. Exciting!

Check us out as we talk about journaling in lists and share the List It! products from Ella Publishing Co. Oh, and we'll also tell you exactly how to solve all your communication problems with your teen (wink).

To celebrate, visit the Ella blog today, too, for a 10 percent coupon code off of any of our seven List It! products.

Also, in every week's episode, we share our book pick of the week. Here are this week's picks, conveniently linked up just for you.

  

It's All About Perspective

Shot with my Hipstamatic for iPhone
Lens: John S
Flash: Off
Film: Ina's 1969

The view from my back yard. That hideous tangle of power lines gives me a jolt of annoyance every time I look out my back window. Or it used to.

Enter a houseguest, visiting from one of the flatter states. She and I were standing on my back patio, and just as I had opened my mouth to apologize for living in an old neighborhood with ugly, exposed power lines (when so many of the surrounding neighborhoods have buried lines), she said:

"Look at that view! I'd love to have such gorgeous mountains right in my back yard. You are so lucky."

My mouth snapped shut.

Of course. It really is a stunning view. My focus has been all wrong.

It's my choice to look past the ugly and drink in the beauty just beyond, rising majestically in the distance.

Journaling Prompt
What areas of your life could use a new view? Have you had a recent epiphany that changed your perspective about the blessings in your life? What ugly scenes, memories, and moments have hidden beauty looming behind them, if you'd only open your eyes and see? Take a moment to write about it.

Baby Photos: 7 Months Old

Welcome to "Old News Weekend." Or, in honor of the vintage craze, let's call the next few posts "Vintage News." I'm trying to keep up with everything folks, I really am. And better late than never is a motto I live by.

In any case, Keira Jane Lucas turned 7 months old on May 2, 2011, which means it's almost time to take her 8 month photos! Here's how cute she was 3 weeks ago.

"I'm not very good at the numbers thing yet, but this is a pretty big one. I'm 7 months? Already?"

"Let me check the belly sticker package...yep, that's right! It says right here...7 months old."

"I've got an idea! Hand me your camera lens cover, mommy, and I promise not to cry. Now if you take it away from me, I WILL cry, I'm just warning you. But as long as I have it in my hand, I'll look at the camera and cooperate. Deal?"

"You didn't think I was serious, did you? This shows you just how serious I am. (And by the way, do you like my teeth?)"

"I've got the lens cap, but I'm still a little but upset. Give me a second while I collect myself."

"There. How's this? This is me, pontificating. I've got big plans and dreams on my mind right now. This lens cap really helps me think. Thanks for understanding."

"There. And here's my sweet-as-an-angel sidelong glance, with my hand raised in perfect, delicate, baby chubbiness. Also, I've decided Nikon doesn't need quite so much free press."

Journaling Prompt
Try the technique above with photos of your own! Choose a set of photos and study them for a second to imagine what the subject would say if he, she, or it could talk. It's especially fun with baby or pet photos, but it can also be quite rewarding with photos of one's spouse who may or may not be very comfortable sharing "feelings" or whatever—just share them for him!

Disaster Disclaimer
I always feel awkward blogging about happy things when there are people suffering so much—both close to home and far away. I don't know about you, but it is a constant struggle for me to empathise truly and sincerely without dissolving into a quivering heap of sadness when I think of all the misery in the world.

Today, I spent the afternoon with a 7-year-old little girl whose needs just broke my heart. I have an extended family member who's in extreme distress. I got an email from a friend of a friend of a friend living near Joplin, Missouri, that made me want to hop in my car immediately and help in the rescue and clean-up efforts. And my chest tightens whenever I think of the devastation in Japan.

Yes, sometimes I feel the weight of the world so acutely.

So I remind myself that saving the world at large is not my job. But there are certain people at certain times who are my job, and I pray I'll always know who they are and be able (and willing) to help. Right now, I have a baby and a stepson (now living with us full time) who have very real needs, and I'm humbled and honored that I have the calling and the capacity to meet those needs daily. So I serve them with all my heart, and I do what I can in my own little corner of the world. Then, with what's left over, I reach out when and where I can.

For everyone else, I'm grateful for prayer and miracles, hope and helping hands. May they find their way to those in the greatest need tonight.

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