It’s Okay to be Different

Did you know it’s okay to be different?
my son said to me today
when I told him he needed to fit in,
that way things will be okay.

I like being myself, he said,
I like being me.
And in his eyes, I saw my fear
for a world that he cannot yet see

A world that may have lost kindness
and understanding so long ago
a world that won’t have any patience
for things they no longer have time to know

that not everyone is going to fit in
some people just like being the way they are
unique and smart, beautiful and kind
different like every shining star

but if there’s one thing i know
as we journey together through all this
i’ll raise him to be strong for himself and others
and to always stand up for those easily dismissed


Stop looking at your damn phone, for once
watch your kid, and push him on the swing,
instead you sit with your eyes glued to your phone
letting someone else push him, while you simply sit there
looking dim.

And when he tries to help another kid,  you blame him
and say we’re going home if you don’t behave,
And he tells you he really was helping the other kid, but you didn’t see that, did you?  Too busy looking at your phone again –
what the hell’s on the display?

Are we this distracted now, seemingly burdened
to raise a generation of ignored kids?
Do we even see the stupidity of it all, our phones
more important to us than the reading out loud
of three little pigs?

Isn’t it a laugh when we purport to spend time with them
only to stare at our gleaming phone screens?
And let them play and run and be beaten by bullies
but we’ll never know that – our faces super-glued
to these damn machines.




Anywhere I Can

Where do you produce your best writing — at your desk, on your phone, at a noisy café? Tell us how the environment affects your creativity.

The Writer by Michael Lynn Adams
The Writer by Michael Lynn Adams

It’s difficult to be a mother and a writer at the same time –
there’s a house to keep, and laundry
to fold.  there’s a dog to feed, and there’s a child
to scold
there’s dinner to be made, or none at all
for when you’re lost in your stories
words can’t fill a belly, I’m told.
How others do it so well, I’ll never know,
but I do know this
I’m not a good mother at all
for I need to write and I need it like air
on couches, and tables, and just about anywhere
the little kid is fed, but only when he’s hungry
laundry is done only when the closets are empty
so I write anywhere I can,  no fancy desks or writing rooms for me,
for the world is all I have –
to do what I need to do to be free.

Daily Prompt

Do I Have To Stick To A Schedule?

Describe a typical day in your life — but do it in a form or in a medium you’ve rarely — if ever – used before. If you’re a photoblogger, write a poem. If you’re a poet, write an open letter. If you’re a travel blogger, write a rant.

Dearest Cousin,

There’s a force to be reckoned with in my life that has succeeded in turning my already crazy world into something even more crazy.  I don’t know how you do it with your five kids – or is it six?  – but the one that I have now is driving me absolutely nuts.  I’ve been told that it’s best to put him on a schedule and that idea alone – putting ME on a schedule with him so he can actually have a schedule – stresses the crap out of me.

I thrive best without a schedule – I really do.  But if I have to put the little munchkin on a schedule, I guess I’ll have to do it, and whether or not I’ve got to grit my teeth to do it, I guess that comes with the territory of being a mother.

So far, this has been the plan, and just to let you know -it’s also the first week of summer vacation so my grays roots are already showing, and it’s only 7 a.m.  (My hair stylist is not answering the phone. Crapshoot.)

Honestly, how do you do it?

8 am – I’m awake.  I really am, and the little one, well, he’s still asleep, conked out because he stayed up late.  But I shall take advantage of this quiet hour before he wakes up to have some coffee.  Even better, the hubby has gone to the store to pick up a cup of coffee for me and even some banana nut bread.  P.S. The little terror is still asleep.

9 am – The hubby is painting the fence.  It’s on his To-Do list and as long as I get my peace and quiet while I have my coffee, all is well with the world.

10 am – The little terror is awake.  But I have lulled him to silence with a bowl of Cheerios and the iPad.  I know, I know, I shouldn’t give him the iPad, but what’s a writer to do?  I’m already at 96K words and do you know how difficult it is to tie loose ends and get this thing edited for publication?  Oh wait, I forgot – you’re not a writer.  You’re raising five kids – or is it  six?  You. Are. SuperMom.  And clearly I am not.

11 am – The little terror spilled the Cheerios.  I can’t wait for the Hubby to get done painting the fence.  Unfortunately it’s only the white paint thing, not the actual color. I guess that’s tomorrow.

12 noon – The hubby cannot wait till we’re out of the house so he gets his peace and quiet.  I can’t wait to drop the terror at the day care for the five hours of work I need to do – which also gives me some peace and quiet.

6 pm – Picked up the little terror – and saw him push three – THREE – children out of the way.  No more iPad for him from here on, the little shit.

7 pm – Gotta hand the kid over to the hubby because I am done.  Apparently, I have this Daily Prompt I need to do.  But first – coffee.

10 pm – Wait.  Wasn’t I supposed to stick to a schedule for the little one.  Oh well, maybe tomorrow.

Daily Prompt