And so it was and so it is that the best is yet to come.
The best is always yet to come.
Motherhood is always mingled with darkness and light. It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.
My children have seen me at my mountain top best and my rock bottom worst. I have muddled my way through motherhood, making mistakes, overreacting, under-reacting, discovering the many sides of myself. But no matter the mistakes I made, my children beckoned me into their lives and loved me unconditionally.
For me, loving my children unconditionally was as involuntary as breathing. I adore them all, but beyond that I like them. And I feel the same about their chosen partners.
The interplay between them is amicable and hilarious, a little bit jabbing, and a lot bit loving. They know one another’s weaknesses and strengths. They play on them and lean into them as well.
The particular intensity of motherhood has not been lost on me. And now I get to enjoy the fruits of all those years as I watch my beautiful children begin to raise their own families. Grandparenting is the best of all worlds.
So you see? The best is always yet to come! I can’t wait to see what comes next!
Walking in to Walmart that hot summer day I wondered if everyone knew I wondered if everyone saw the marks of motherhood on my body.
I am a mom. A mom.
Surreal and hyper real.
Like no sleep in days dripping faucet breasts real.
Like can’t sit down without a pillow real.
Like worried sick I’ll do the wrong thing real.
Like a tiny human now totally dependent on me for survival real.
I wondered in that moment what our life would be like— I wondered who that tiny human would become.
Today I look down at my body forever changed, forever marked by motherhood
I look at my grown children and their beautiful lives and their beautiful loves
I look at my Little Wonder growing up too quickly wise beyond his years
and I know the answer:
the best was yet to come.
—A Draft by Carla Jeanne Picklo Jordan
Happy Mother’s Day to you and your mothers. Even if you aren’t a mother, you made someone a mother so YAY YOU!
Today’s prompt was a fun one. I had to find a factual article about an animal. I needed to go through the article and replace the name of the animal with something else and then rearrange and edit into a poem.
I chose an article in National Geography on sandhill cranes and replaced “sandhill crane”with “middle schooler”.
Middle School and More
The sound that signals spring more than any other sound is the rattling, staccato calls of gangly middle schoolers
winging their way into class. Sitting shivering amid the chickweed, dandelion greens, and residual remains
of sedge grasses, I find them listening intently to gossip as only pre-teens can do. I notice how they call
to each other with a kind of guttural growling texture like a spoon raking rhythmically over a metal washboard.
Spring brings all varieties to the yard—the trumpeters, the secretive, the seasoned by siblings, the happy-go-lucky.
But the true spring showstopper is the middle schooler who jogs across the schoolyard, wraps his arms around me and says, “Love you, mom.”
—A Draft Poem for my own Little Wonder with love from Mama
Let me know what you think in the comments below. 🤗
Today’s prompt was to think of a single thing or person (a house, your grandmother, etc), and then write a poem that consists of kenning-like descriptions of that thing or person. For example, you might call a cat a mouse-stalker, quiet-walker, bird-warner, purr-former, etc. I decided to write about my beautiful children. 🙂
in this i sing a truth-song to myself–
and nurture-days consumed
by little people and big wonders.
first came the truth-seeker,
a gallant wise-heart.
the side-kick entered
with light-bearing joy,
then the fairest-of-them-all,
a God-gift of pink delight within
the package of a generous-heart.
these three and this earth-dweller
thought her soul complete.
but dare i utter my life-journey
of joyous blessing,
and forget to tell
of hardship unspeakable?
my care-wretched life lie
dashed and defeated, until
heaven sent little-wonder,
a joy-bucket of life-zest.
my little warrior-prince.
the truth song of my heart
finds melody in these four
and also in the three heaven-dwellers
who passed over earth and shot
straight to the arms of God.
when my mind and soul are sea-weary,
the melodies of the hearts-of-my-heart
carry me home.