April 1, 2013 – NaPoWriMo

Posted on April 1, 2013 by Mama Cormier

April is National Poetry Writing Month — NaPoWriMo for short. I don’t know if I can do this for the whole month of April but I felt inspired to share some haiku poetry that I was compelled to write.

April Haiku – Most of the Time

Number One

Showers, warmth, green earth

Symphonies of spring songbirds

Sun peaking through clouds

Number Two

Children’s shouts of glee

Jumping into rain puddles

Left on school playgrounds

Number Three

Faces gaze skyward

Basking in the rays of warmth

Welcoming the sun

Number Four

Bulbs shoot forth new growth

Soft warm drops dance upon tongues

Springtime has arrived

April 1st, 2013

“Knock, knock”

Whose there?

“Mother Nature”

Mother Nature who?

“The one that controls the weather. April Fool’s Day! Gotcha ya!”

I couldn’t resist. After a long, cold and snowy winter and the fleeting promise of spring on Good Friday we were greeted with minus 6 degree weather upon waking today. Communities north of us are being warned to expect more snow today. Mother Nature is large and in charge.

Getting There With a Little Help

Posted on December 31, 2012 by Mama Cormier

….3 hours before the end of 2012

Story #7 for Daily Post Writing Challenge

Reaching Goals

Why is it that some people achieve their goals and other hard working people don’t? I often discuss this with my students. Many people set goals to become millionaires but very few people achieve this goal. The difference is that millionaires developed a plan early in their careers to reach this status and reworked the plan until they achieved their goal. In other words they worked to achieve this goal where the rest of us only wished for it to come true.

I know this is a pretty simplistic point of view but there is some truth to it. The other thing that successful people do is network. It is often who you know that helps you on the road to success.

This holds true for bloggers as well. I was hoping or should I say wishing that my blog would reach hundreds of people around the world. I’m not sure why but when you put so much effort into something it’s nice to know that someone out there is taking the time to read your posts.

I started to read suggestions on how to make your blog more noticeable and draw more followers. I decided to visit at least 10 new blogs every night and leave a comment or a ‘like’. I routinely went to ‘freshly pressed’ and eagerly read the successful blogs that achieved this award. The styles of writing and the topics were diverse to say the least. Some I thoroughly enjoyed and immediately followed.

Soon I started to notice that some of the bloggers where I had left a comment came over to my site. I went from three or four likes to as many as twenty but how does one get into the hundreds. Well I discovered that happens when you’re ‘freshly pressed’ and when someone reblogs your post onto their site. This happened to me when Sue Llewellyn from A Word in Your Ear reblogged one of my photo challenge entries onto her site. I’ve reached over 100 likes on that post alone.

Sometimes to reach a goal you have to ask for help. Two days ago when I posted my stats for the year I told my readers that I hoped to reach 200 followers before today. I was very close. As luck would have it Rarasaur read my post and decided to help me reach my goal by following me and asking her husband and friends to do the same. As of today I have 202 followers. Thank you!

I also quietly wanted to surpass my most views for one day. I reached an all time high of 76 back in May. I’ve come close but just couldn’t seem to draw anymore attention. For whatever reason that goal also came true today. Just before I push the publish button I’m sitting at 90 views for today. Yahoo!

So to reach your goals you definitely have to do more than wish for them to come true. Hard work, perseverance, and a little help from your friends will make it happen.

Best Wishes for a happy, healthy and productive New Year on 2013.

Cheers!

Carol

“They’ll be small!”

Posted on December 30, 2012 by Mama Cormier

….. famous last words from my obstetrician

Story #6 for Daily Post Writing Challenge

December 30, 1981

When I started this blog I wanted to share memories of my childhood and life in general with my family and friends. Over the last nine months (how ironic) my family has grown to include the blogging community. Today I celebrate the 31st birthday of my twins.

The memories of that day are vividly clear. It’s not because I was going through hours of agonizing labour. In fact with this pregnancy there was no labour unless you count the five separate occasions when I experienced false contractions. Actually the contractions were real but they always stopped just before I was ready to make that trip to the hospital.

Back in late August of that year I was informed over the phone that the results of my ultrasound showed that there was definitely more than one baby in my womb. I must have been in shock because I didn’t ask how many babies they actually saw. The doctor on call did inform me though that I probably would have these babies earlier than my due date of January 7th. On average twins are born 22 days early.

A week later I saw my obstetrician and he assured me that there were only two babies on the ultrasound pictures, although a few weeks later he did question me as to why I was so big. Apparently he was so busy that he completely forgot I was having twins when he made that comment. Once again I wondered how many babies I was actually carrying.

As my due date drew closer I continued to drive the car and I routinely had to readjust the seat so that my swollen belly didn’t hit the steering wheel. I gained a total of 56 pounds but luckily I had lost a lot of weight before I became pregnant and I actually weighed less at the end of this pregnancy than I had with my first.

I loved being pregnant. I experienced very little in the way of morning sickness and all the complications that I was warned about never happened. I looked forward to each new stage. Being pregnant with twins certainly draws a lot of stares from strangers. My first memory occurred early in the pregnancy when a complete stranger asked me my when my baby was due. At the time I was only 3 months into my pregnancy but I was already wearing maternity clothes. I just assumed that because this was my second pregnancy it wasn’t unusual to show earlier. I remember how shocked the woman looked when I told her my due date.

The other thing that my husband and I discovered was that older people who found out that I was having twins all had stories how one or both of their twins or someone else’s twins DIED. My husband was furious but I didn’t let it bother me.

I was secretly hoping that my babies would be born on Christmas Day. That wish didn’t come true. As the days wore on and Christmas came and went I knew that these babies didn’t care about arriving early. So much for averages. I was so large that my 2 year old daughter could hide herself under my belly and I could use it as a shelve to rest my cup of tea on.

As we got closer to the end of the month, my doctor and I decided to prebook the surgery for my C-section. We always knew that it would probably end up this way unless the babies came early and were small enough for me to deliver naturally. The date was set; December 30th, 1981.

The morning of my surgery I started to feel that things were different. I often wonder if the twins would have come on their own that day or on New Years Eve but I was happy to finally have it over with. I didn’t know if I was having two boys or two girls or one of each. For some reason I really didn’t want two boys. I grew up in a family of all girls and I think I was a little leary of raising boys. I also hoped that If I had two girls that they would be identical. I can’t imagine the conflict that could ensue if one sister was prettier than the other.

As I was being prepped for surgery my doctor informed me that these babies would be small. Famous last words. I was awake for the procedure so as soon as each baby was pulled from my womb they were held up over the drape so that I could see them. The first baby was a girl and I felt a sense of relief. She was beautiful and weighed 6 pounds 8 ounces. The second baby was a boy. I remembered that he was long and not as round as his sister but he weighed in at a respectable 7 pounds and 4 ounces. So much for small babies. I had carried almost 14 pounds of baby in the last month of my pregnancy.

So the day is memorable on many counts. I had two healthy babies, one boy and one girl. My son was the first male born on my side of the family in over 50 years and my husband’s father was happy because he finally had a grandson to carry on the family name. It would be another 7 1/2 years before another child would be born into our family but once the first cousin arrived the other 3 followed soon after.

The miracle of birth is just that; a miracle. It doesn’t matter how they’re born, where or when. Each child is special and brings new life and hope to this sometimes bleak world. Wishing you all a very happy, healthy and productive New Year in 2013.

Snow

Posted on December 30, 2012 by Mama Cormier

…. it snowed again today

Story #5 for the Daily Post Writing Challenge

Snow

It snowed again today

Like icing sugar falling from the sky

it was soft, dry and cold on the skin

A new layer of pristine lacy crystals

blanketed the already greying layer of snow

that had fallen the day before

Walking was not without effort

With each step the powdery stuff reached the top of our boots

as we carved new trails into the virgin snow

The dog was in paradise

She leaped like a deer and buried her nose

in the freshly fallen mana from heaven

Once we reached the wooded area in the park

the stillness and serenity were deafening

The sounds of the city were completely muffled by the blanket of snow

It felt like we were a hundred miles from civilization

with only the birds and snow covered boughs surrounding us

For an hour we were transported to a

magical fantasy world

My only regret is that I didn’t lie in the snow and make

a snow angel

Rhapsody in Blue

Posted on December 28, 2012 by Mama Cormier

Story #4 in Daily Post Writing Challenge: Just Do It

My fingers hovered over the keyboard of the computer as if wanting to play along with the Gershwin tune on the radio. The music on the classical station spontaneously made my fingers move to the rhythms of the Steinway grand piano but it didn’t help me find the words for my next story. I was hoping that they would magically appear on my laptop as I hummed to the music. I tried closing my eyes but I felt myself dozing off so I quickly refocused on the blank screen in front of me.

I randomly typed a few words looking for inspiration in the formation of the letters. Nothing. I continued to bob and sway to the music. Such a classic piece. Oh how I love Rhapsody in Blue! The music ends abruptly. Now what?

I go to Youtube and type in Rhapsody in Blue and I find the original performance. So different from what I just heard. Much faster and a tinnier sound. Now I really can’t focus on my writing. I’m totally enthralled with this music. It’s times like this when I wish I could play the piano. The irony is that I have a baby grand sitting in my livingroom and I never learned to play it.

When my son was 10 years old we discovered he had a natural musical gift and he started learning how to play the piano on an old upright that I had purchased from my choir when they were ready to buy a new one. On a whim one weekend, a year or so after our son started playing, we bought a baby grand we saw at the Home Show. Who does that? Well, we do apparently.

We never regretted our purchase. Two of our three children learned how to play it. The parents, however never did. I tried a couple of times to teach myself and I started to get the hang of it but I didn’t persevere and soon gave up practising. We’ve contemplated selling it, especially now that all our children are adults and have left the nest. The piano is in bad need of tuning but it is a beautiful piece of furniture.

I was almost ready to give in to the idea of selling it when my husband decided that he wants to learn how to play it. I can’t argue with that. If anyone can do it, he can. I’m just not sure when he wants to get started. When he does, I know it won’t be Rhapsody in Blue but Chopsticks might be a good start.

I leave you with this recording, Gershwin’s Rhapsody in Blue, as I continue to ponder on what I’m going to write.

The Stranger

Posted on December 27, 2012 by Mama Cormier

.…without warning a soft knock resonated at the door

Story #3 for Daily Post Writing Challenge

The Stranger

It was late, Christmas Eve. The evening had been a quiet one, spent with good friends and close family members. Everyone left about 10:00 and my husband stayed up for awhile to help me with the cleaning up. Seeing how tired he was I suggested that he retire to bed and I would finish up in the kitchen.

The next morning would be a busy time with preparations for Christmas dinner and I needed a clean kitchen to work in so I happily stayed up to wash the last few glasses and put things away.

After finishing in the kitchen I walked around the livingroom, extinguishing the candles, picking up the loose bits of wrapping paper and tidying up the opened presents. I had just unplugged the Christmas tree lights when without warning a soft knock resonated from the front door. The dog began to bark furiously. Who would be at my door at 11:30 at night on Christmas Eve?

I froze but quickly caught my breath. I quietly inched my way to a window where I could see who was outside on my front porch. I saw that the person was a woman in a puffy black coat but I couldn’t make out her features. I went to the front door and without opening it I called out to the stranger and asked her what she wanted.

In a desperate voice she told me she was a neighbour and needed a loonie and a quarter. Who needs $1.25 on Christmas Eve? The closest 24 hour store was 7 blocks west and 2 blocks north from here. There wasn’t a waiting car or taxi that I could see. I know most of my neighbours and her Eastern European accent wasn’t familiar to me. I didn’t know what to do. Even the dog had stopped barking. I could hear her mumbling away when I didn’t respond to her plea.

My husband was sound asleep. I knew I had no change in my wallet and I was afraid. I quietly turned from the door, made sure all the other doors in the house were locked, turned off the last of the lights and tiptoed up the stairs to bed. I looked out from the upstairs window but the stranger had left. I don’t know where she went but I think I did see her walking along the street that intersects our road. She was warmly dressed and she seemed to know where she was going.

I felt guilty, nervous and unsettled. How ironic that on Christmas Eve I was like the inn keepers that had no room for Mary and Joseph. I sent her away. Is it fair to compare my situation to that classic bible story? It is after all 2012. I live in a city where home invasions periodically take place. If I had opened the door would she have pushed her way in and robbed us or was someone else with her waiting in the shadows? I’ll never know for sure but I did have a restless sleep that night. Every creak and tiny noise put me on edge.

The next morning when I told my husband what happened he told me I had done the right thing. What would you have done?

Just When I Thought I’d Heard it All Before

Posted on December 26, 2012 by Mama Cormier

……my father throws another gem into the story that he’s retold at least a dozen times

Story #2 for The Daily Post’s Weekly Writing Challenge, which is to post a new story each day for one week.

“It was Love at First Sight!”

Everytime the family gets together with my 86 year old dad we are entertained with tales of my father’s childhood, war stories or how he met my mother. This Christmas was no different. In January my father will have been widowed from my mother for 20 years but as with many men, my father needed a woman in his life and he found love a second time.

Dad’s partner, G, is always present when he rallies us around for his stories but when he talks lovingly of our mother I always feel somewhat uncomfortable and can’t help but wonder what goes through her mind when Mom comes up in conversation.

This year, on Boxing Day, my middle sister, her family and I drove to the Schwa to celebrate the holiday with my father and G. Somewhere between dinner and dessert Dad started to reminisce about his life shortly after the war. The first new piece of information that I had never heard before was how my grandfather died. I knew that he had an accident on the job but I didn’t know the gruesome details.

After the war ended in Germany my father’s parents were allowed to stay in their family home which was now part of Poland. Most Germans were sent packing with whatever they could carry on their backs but Opa Winkler was asked to stay because he had a skill that was needed to rebuild the town. His job was working on the hydro lines and unfortunately the pole that he ascended one day was unstable and fell over while he was still on it. He spent three days in the hospital in a coma and eventually succumbed to his injuries.

The other part of this story that I didn’t know was that my grandmother and her two children were then forced to leave their home and were relocated in Bielefeld in West Germany. My father at the time was working on a farm and had no idea that his father had died or that his family had moved. When he did learn of their fate almost two years had passed. This new piece of the puzzle filled a void in the bigger picture. I now understand why my father left the farm, a job that he loved, and moved to Bielefeld. It was, of course to help his mother and his siblings get back on their feet. Little did he know at the time that Oma Winkler had already found a man who was more than willing to assist her.

My father continued talking about how he moved on and found a great job with an English general as a house boy or personal assistant and eventually made his way to Frankfurt where he worked in an American hotel. It was here that my mother accidentally bumped into my father, looking for her sister who worked in the same place. My father claims he felt sorry for this young girl and initially just wanted to help her out but according to him “it was love at first sight” for my mother. Here was the man who would father her children.

I wish my mother were here to tell her version of this story. I’m sure that it’s mostly true but I have a feeling that there’s another side to this tale of romance.

Weekly Writing Challenge: Just Do It

Posted on December 26, 2012 by Mama Cormier

……I just discovered The Daily Post at WordPress.com

I’ve been trying to hone my writing skills since I started blogging in April. One day before the writing challenge, Just Do It, came out I wrote one of my best pieces ever, so I’ve decided to reprint it for those of you who follow the writing challenges. I’ll try to write another two stories later today seeing that I’m already two days into the challenge and haven’t written anything since the challenge began.

The Best Christmas Present

It was December 24th, 1958. I was six years old. I remember that it was a frosty cold day and my mother was fretting because we still didn’t have our tree. In Germany it was traditional to put the tree up Christmas Eve but Mom had been in Canada long enough to know that trees were sold well in advance of the big day and that finding one at this late date would be challenging. My father, however, the complete optimist, reassured us that bringing home a tree today would not be a problem.

Early in the afternoon, Dad got into his big black Ford and left Mom, my sister and I to prepare the house for the arrival of Santa Claus. Hours passed and I remember my mother started to worry. There were no cell phones and stores were already closed. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity my father arrived with not one, but two trees.

My mother was aghast. What were we to do with two trees and two spindly trees at that? My father, again, reassured us that he had it all under control and disappeared into the basement with both trees in tow. For the next hour or so we heard the hand saw cut away at one of the trees and a hand drill bore holes into the other.

Weary and smiling from ear to ear, Dad emerged from the basement with a beautiful, full, and perfectly formed ‘Tannenbaum’. Christmas was looking up and we quickly adorned our new tree with glass ornaments that had been carefully brought over from Germany. The electric candles were meticulously arranged and then we were allowed to place the icicles on the lower branches while the adults worked on the upper ones.

Darkness came early as it always has on Christmas Eve and I remember the excitement I felt and the anticipation of hearing and maybe seeing Santa Claus come through the front door in an hour or so. When it was time my mother hurried us into our bedroom and sat with us while we waited for Santa’s arrival.

The knock was loud and resounding and my father opened the door to welcome our special guest. It was always the same greeting. “Ho, ho, ho!” while Santa noisily stamped the snow from his boots. The two men exchanged a few words, loud enough so that we could hear through the door and then as quickly as he arrived, Santa left.

My father called for us to come out and see what Santa had left us. It was always magical walking into the living room at that particular moment in time. The candles were lit for the first time, the rest of the lights in the house were dimmed and lo and behold the base of the tree was miraculously laden with beautifully wrapped gifts that hadn’t been there 20 minutes earlier.

Our tradition was always to sing a few Carols before opening our gifts. I wrung my hands as I dutifully sang and my little sister stood next to me with her cheeks flushed, partially due to the excitement and the late hour. The one present I remember both of receiving that night were matching life-size baby dolls. I named mine Barbara. Unbeknownst to us, the best present was yet to arrive.

Our next door neighbours dutifully arrived soon after all our gifts had been opened and we were hustled off to bed with our new ‘babies’. Little did we know that my parents’ friends were there to babysit us while my mom and dad drove to the hospital. It’s funny how I have no recollection of my mother even being pregnant and I certainly had no clue that she had been in labour that entire day.

The rest of the story is how I remember it being retold by my mother and father.

After putting us to bed, with her little suitcase in hand, my mother got into the car with my father at the wheel and sped off to the hospital. At the time we lived in Oakville and my mother’s doctor worked out of a hospital in Toronto. The fastest way to get there was via the expressway.

Before I continue with my story I need preface it with a little more information about my father. My father has always been a very carefree and spontaneous sort of fellow. He was a hard worker and provided for his family but his judgement about certain things was not always prudent. One of those things was how far he could travel on a tank of gas. That said let me continue with my story.

It must have been close to 11:00 at night when the unspeakable happened. In the middle of the QEW the car ran out of gas. I guess after driving around all afternoon looking for a tree my father forgot how much gas he used. Remember this was a time when everything was closed on Christmas Eve and 24 hour gas stations did not exist. I can’t imagine what my mother was thinking as her contractions were getting closer and closer. This baby was coming quickly.

Over the years as I remember this story I can’t believe that my father got out of the car and left my mom by the side of the highway while he looked for a gas station. As luck would have it my father managed to find an open service station and bought enough gas to get them to the hospital. My parents arrived minutes before midnight and about 10 minutes later my sister was born.

The next morning, on Christmas Day, I remember my sister and I climbing into bed with my father where he gave us the news of our new sister. Each year on this day I fondly remember the events that led up to this special day and the birth of my sister….my best childhood Christmas present, ever. Love you Cathy!

Wishing all my loyal readers and followers and my family and friends a very special holiday season, whether it be Christmas, Hanukkah, Kwanza or Diwali. May you all have special memories to cherish and share.

Carol