When toddlers pee in anger.

A poem for my living room carpet:

They said you were dirty
but what did they know
I’ve cared for you plenty
and boy does it show

You’re not even black yet
just a dingy grey
I swore that I’d steam you
one of these days

Then a cranky toddler
had fits he did throw
got time out, and got back
at Mom with Pee Shows.

Oh carpet, it soaked in
and I waited too long
I steamed you last night
now you smell like burnt schlong (??? sorry, it rhymed)

Another Mom Lesson
with answers you seek:
don’t let it soak in! when
you do clean, it REEKS.

One step closer to being free of Doodie Duty.

The potty has moved
slowly across the first floor
towards the bathroom

for a short time now,
and yesterday something cool
happened in that room.

A certain little
boy ran in, looked around and
chose the higher stool.

He WANTS to pee on
the toilet now and can do
it all by himself!

Now if we can just
address this annoying thing
called “shitting in pants.”

Trying hard every day to heed my own advice.

Today’s Photohunt Theme is “Thankful”

July, 2008

It’s a word that causes cliche
to flood through my mind and still
those things I cherish and value
can’t be labeled as cliche and tossed aside

I hold him and him dear; they are my world
Things happen in life to make you realize
that every day with the blessing of love
ticks by so fast, if we let it

It is easy to sing a song of pain
and hold on to heartache
It is easy to ignore love as
the way things should be

Let the cliches fill your mind
let yourself get caught up in the meaning
the word evokes in you
Be thankful

And live it.

If you can’t have it all, take a little.

My fingers are cold.
Upstairs my child is sleeping.
I’m down here alone.

Thermostat set low
in the hopes that next power
bill will be lower.

My toes are so cold.
There’s work to do; I’m too tired -
Emotionally.

A short drive from here
women are laughing, playing.
Warm, happy, together.

Here, it is quiet.
I sit still on the couch and
ignore my numb toes.

Perhaps, in the morn
I’ll join them very briefly.
Just a quick warm up.

Haiku Assvice.

Scraping the barrel
like never before these days.
Weak, and yes, ashamed.

I know it takes time.
Am no stranger to symptoms;
it is depression.

From this low vantage
I can look up and see those
who are still moving.

Hear what they say, watch
what they do, and be amazed
at what’s important.

Be amazed at what
some find worthy of energy.
Anger. Ugliness.

It is so easy
to become ensnared in that.
Don’t let it happen.

With experience
comes perspective, and when it’s
shared, take what you can.

Try not to jump so
quickly to offense, anger…
do you benefit?

It is not easy
to step back and remain calm
with little practice.

I say this because
I know. I’m quick to anger,
easily annoyed.

And so often quite
the righteous rebel. And what
have I gained from this?

Drama is pointless.
Time passes by and I am
wasting my focus.

Have always found it
easy to see negatives.
Overlook the good.

Life is rich, complex.
Try to remind yourselves of
of this and do your best

to just ignore the
insignificant bumps and
enjoy all the rest.

The Burdensome, Beautiful Hat

Today’s Photohunt Theme is “Hat”

she waited in the cold.
the darkness came.
like magic it fell, all around.

like a hat,
an icy burden built.
atop her it rested.

all night she struggled,
through the dark,
to stay erect.

when day broke
and light exploded
her burden glowed.

it remained heavy
and, although difficult to bear,
it allowed beauty, before unseen,
to shine through her.

Time and Space

As long as I can remember I have been drawn to abandoned buildings, corroded weed-covered cars, churches whose bricks have crumbled upon each other, dilapidated barns, and houses that have been left to ruin.  I look at them and wonder.  Who worked there?  Did they drive that car to the prom?  Where did the people who prayed there go?  And why aren’t they praying there anymore?  What kind of animals were tended to in that barn?   How many kids played in the yard of that once inhabited house?

I have my parents to thank for this, I believe.  Many of our family excursions consisted of getting some ice-cream and taking long drives into the hills and ridges of the towns south of ours.   I’d sit in the back seat, looking out to find these old dwellings, and I’d make up stories about them.    Being an only child I had a vast imagination, so this was something I did often.

Luckily I met and married a man who shared my love and appreciation for long country drives.  Often times we’d take off, on our motorcycle, zooming through the Allegheny Mountains.  I’d be on the back of the bike, looking around, taking it all in, finding beauty everywhere and in everything.   In the trees, the weeds, the dirt roads, the broken barns.   Then we moved to New Orleans for a couple years.  That place is one of insane history and beauty.   Everywhere I looked there was some sight to behold and some story for me to happily concoct.

We have since passed along the tradition of the country drive to our children.    We pile into our van and head out to explore the mountainous region that we live so close to.  Being at the foothills of the Appalachian Mountains there is much to see and it seems that there is an abundance of old and broken-down places.   Sometimes we hear complaints about the rides, but the promise of an old-school bottle of Orange Crush or Grape Nehi will usually quell any grumblings.

This past New Year’s Eve the kids and I set out to run some errands.   We grabbed some lunch and after our bellies were full, and we had our movies and snacks picked for the evening, I turned down the road that would take us the long way home.   We ended up on a little dead-end street that we had never seen before.  At the beginning stood a what-used-to-be-white little shack of a house that had a ‘for sale by owner’ sign on it.

“Mama, it looks like there’s some cool stuff in that place.  We should stop,” my eldest son, Mikey, said to me.

“I see that, big boy.  Let’s go have a look-see,” I replied as I prepared to make a three-point-turn.

I got out and approached the little dwelling, but I didn’t expect to see what I saw.   Inside it was as if time stood still.   Everything was in it’s place,  and it wasn’t of modern time.   What was this place?  A little restaurant?  An office?  Who worked there?  Who sat smoking at that desk?  What kind of cigarettes did they smoke?  Was it hot the day they laid the horseshoes in the fresh cement? These are the questions that raced through my mind.  Inside and out there were remnants of something different.  That “je ne sais quoi” that makes up the beauty of time and space.

10:21

Time stood as still
As the gourds and Indian corn

The once occupied desk empty
Unlike the ashtray and walls

Drinks are no longer cold
And the snack bins are void

Only a rust and dust cover
Can be found

Upon the place where time stands still
Where the clock reads 10:21

-Mishelle Lane
January 1, 2009

______________________________________________________________________________

Mishelle Lane can be found ‘shooting from the hip’ at
Secret Agent Mama and Mishelle Lane Photography.

©1974: Macedonian/American Daughter, Wife, Mother, Cousin, Niece, True Friend, Coffee Snob, Photographer, Home Schooler, Blogger, Music Lover, Ex-Smoker, Gun Shooter, Lead Foot Taxi Driver, Dog Person, Laundry Bitch, Head Cook, Hip Soccer Mama, Weight Battler, and so much more.

Car tantrums – the gift that keeps giving.

So nice to be home
but soon we will leave again -
holiday travel!

I feel like I need
a good trip to a Spa to
get over last trip.

Anyone want to
buy me a massage, facial?
I didn’t think so.

Getting to spend time
with family is worth it…
but DAMN, the drive sucks.

Was thinking of a
larger family car soon…
growing family.

But now I’m thinking
a cab with divider glass
is the way to go.

At least I can buy
a set of earplugs before
we leave this next time.

And maybe also
a large bottle of some nice,
groovy, sleeping pills.