Feeds:
Posts
Comments

Archive for the ‘being mamére’ Category

National Poetry Month Day 20: Things to Do if You’re Mamére

Posted in being mamére, Poetry, Writing, tagged , , , , on April 20, 2025| 1 Comment »

In my book Bayou Song: Creative Explorations of the Southern Louisiana Landscape , I have a Things to Do poem about the alligator snapping turtle. You can see the poem and poem prompt here. On Friday, I was looking at the Barred Owl Cam from All about Birds with a young poetry student. We wrote Things to Do poems. From Ethical ELA, Tammi Belko suggested using random words to write a poem. This prompt fit well with our Things to Do poems. We looked at AI generated words about barred owlets and made a list of words to use in our poems.

On Saturday #Verselove, the prompt came from Jordan Stamper. She asked us to think about food memories. What she didn’t know was that very morning I was making a food memory with my grandson Thomas.

Banana Bread (first line from Billy Collins)

I love the sound of
a grandson in the morning
finding the muffin tins
and demanding to bake with me.

We gather flour, sugar, butter, eggs–
Stir the dry.
Whisk the wet.
Smash dappled sweet bananas.

“When will the banana bread be ready? he whines,
melting my heart
with his crystal blue eyes.
Goodness takes time to rise.

Margaret Simon, draft

The Kidlit Progressive Poem is with Mary Lee Hahn today at A(nother) Year of Reading.

Read Full Post »

Slice of Life Day 11: Motherhood

Posted in being mamére, Gratitude, Slice of Life, Writing, tagged , , , on March 11, 2025| 11 Comments »

Thank you to Two Writing Teachers for creating an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write and share.

When I was having children, I never really considered the future and what it might mean for me to be a grandmother. I had three girls. Three daughters who grew into three amazing women. And now I am Mamére to four grands and another one on the way. My youngest daughter is pregnant with her 2nd child. She has a 2 year old, June, and this one is a boy due in July. We’ve had fun calling him “July.”

Pregnancy is not an easy time. There are so many changes happening in a woman’s body. After an earlier miscarriage, Martha was full of fear. I was confident, but I understood her fears. She invited me to the 20 week anatomy scan ultrasound. I sat in awe at the image on the screen…a perfect baby.

Here is my love letter to this new baby boy:

July

I already love all four chambers
of your heart, steadily beating
showing off for the camera.
And those little toe nubs that I can’t wait to tickle.
We could see the perfect stairs
of your spine curled,
floating up in the certain space
of womb. I fell head over heals
for your tiny nose, the deep eye sockets,
the thing that tells us you are boy.

I can wait as you grow
and grow, coming to us
on a hot mid-July morning
wailing for more time
inside. It’s OK, my grandboy,
I love you already.
Margaret Simon, draft

On Sunday I read Maria Popover’s The Marginalian. She wrote about matrescence: “While mothering can take many forms and can be done by many different kinds of people, the process of one organism generating another from the raw materials of its own being — a process known as matrescence — is as invariable as breathing, as inevitable to life as death.”

In Matrescence: On Pregnancy, Childbirth, and Motherhood, Lucy Jones writes of her own experience giving birth to a girl.
“Time started to bend. I was carrying the future inside me. I would learn that I was also carrying the eggs, already within my baby’s womb, that could go on to partly form my potential grandchildren. My future grandchildren were in some way inside me, just as part of me spent time in the womb of my grandmother.”

I am grateful to be a grandmother, the seed from which my grandchildren sprouted. Honored by my daughters to be beside them as they do their best to be strong women who mother with wisdom and care.

Read Full Post »

Slice of Life Day 10: Crochet Sweater

Posted in being mamére, Slice of Life, Writing, tagged , , on March 10, 2025| 10 Comments »

Thank you to Two Writing Teachers for creating an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write and share.

I’ve crocheted for years, so this year I decided to try to make a garment. I’ve made baby blankets, shawls, and hats, but when I saw a pattern for a baby sweater using two hexagons, I thought this will be easy enough.

We were taking a driving trip with our family to Oklahoma right after Christmas, and I wanted a project to do on the drive and while relaxing at the house. I picked out three colors from my inherited boxes of yarn from my friend Marion who died in 2020. My daughter Maggie, the mother of Stella, said of the three colors, “Stella will wear that.”

I crocheted and crocheted until I realized that it was way too big. The first hexagon would almost fit me! I had not accounted for the gauge of the yarn. I was just following the pattern.

Rather than lose the project all together, I decided to rip out the extra rows to make it fit. Then I spent a while making the other side.

Finally it was ready to block.

Two hexagon crocheted sweater blocked on the ironing board ready for steaming.

I brought it to Stella one afternoon when we were visiting. Stella has her own unique sense of fashion. Her preference is to wear leggings in one pattern and a top in another pattern. Sometimes she wears a dress as a skirt or a costume. Her favorites are skeleton, ninja mask, and Elsa nightgown.

Stella ready to go the art show (pj top, dress as skirt, and Elsa wig)

When Stella first saw the sweater, she said, “Nobody anywhere ever has worn a short sleeved sweater.”

My daughter Maggie explained to her that I had made it specially for her. She eventually came around and posed for a picture in her new sweater. Her dad sent me this picture.

Stella fashion: Hexagon sweater over Christmas pj top and Mardi Gras pants

Currently I am looking at a pattern for a summer sundress. Do I dare?

Read Full Post »

Slice of Life Day 9: Morning on the Bayou

Posted in being mamére, Gratitude, nature, Slice of Life, Writing, tagged , , on March 9, 2025| 9 Comments »

Thank you to Two Writing Teachers for creating an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write and share.

“Do you know if there are lily pads, it means the water isn’t deep?” Leo, the 6 year old expert asked his sister Stella.

“Well, I can paddle through these lily pads,” Stella replied as she put her short metal paddle into the water.

Thirty minutes earlier, Stella, age 4, was unsure about getting into a canoe, but she quickly became a brave expert.

Stella stops to smile for the camera while Leo looks out for wildlife. The man in the stern is Papère.

“Look, Stella! I’m making a tunnel with my paddle!” Leo discovered how water passing over a paddle makes a wave.

“I see two, no four birds!” exclaimed Stella.

Papère asked, “Do you see those bubbles? That means there’s something under there.”

“Maybe it’s an alligator?” Leo responded with no fear in his voice.

As we paddled, we came across a real alligator. Here’s a video of our encounter.

Alligator encounter in the bayou. Estimated size 6 ft.

Our canoeing morning was just the right end to a weekend with our grandchildren.

Read Full Post »

Slice of Life Day 4: Courir de Mardi Gras

Posted in being mamére, Slice of Life, Writing, tagged , , , on March 4, 2025| 11 Comments »

Thank you to Two Writing Teachers for creating an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write and share.

“Welcome to Breaux Bridge”

Happy Mardi Gras, y’all! Today is Fat Tuesday, celebrated with parades and food and fun, the last day before Lent arrives, and we enter a season of penance and fasting. I decided to skip the New Orleans festivities this year and enjoy a quiet Mardi Gras; however, yesterday, my daughter invited me to go with her and her two children, Leo and Stella, to an event in Breaux Bridge, Louisiana.

A few years ago I attended the “Courir de Mardi Gras” with my family in Eunice, Louisiana. I had some trouble with the drunken parade and abuse of chickens. This event in Breaux Bridge changed my view somewhat. It was specifically for the children, so the adults were drinking coffee and water and handing out snacks to their children. There was a chicken involved, but we were assured that the chicken was tame and would not be injured.

Traditional Courir de Mardi Gras mask made from home crafted materials.

The costumes were fabulous and fun!

Children ready for the run!

The history of the courir, which in Cajun French means run, dates back to before Louisiana became a part of the U.S., from a time when the Acadians came to Louisiana without much of anything but a promise of land. The small communities would celebrate Mardi Gras by having a chicken run. The idea was to go house to house to get all the ingredients for the gumbo. The gumbo would be shared by the community.

The Teche Center for the Arts recreated the courir specifically for children. El Capitaine, the leader, assigned the children to groups. It was a wild chase, for sure, but it was quick and usually ended with at least one child crying about being knocked in the head or not catching the chicken or, in Stella’s case, losing a shoe. We paraded house to house and shared in the tradition. This was more my style, watching the children, carrying their catches, and taking lots of photos and video.

Read Full Post »

Poetry Friday: Inklings Challenge

Posted in being mamére, Gratitude, Poetry Friday, Writing, tagged , , on January 3, 2025| 20 Comments »

Poetry Friday is hosted by Mary Lee today at A(nother) Year of Reading.

Dear Poetry Friends,

I am posting on my phone because I’m having trouble connecting in a hotel room. I’m visiting my mother who is in the end stages of Alzheimer’s. This time is filled with hard and love, tears and joy.

Heidi challenged the Inklings this first Friday to choose a prompt from her Yule calendar. Since I spent last week in the company of my grandchildren, I was drawn to the prompt “Capture the sound of laughter in rhyme.”

I am taking delight in watching my grandchildren laugh. This poem is dedicated to my granddaughter, June, who was two on Dec. 21st.

De-Light

I taste a note of nutmeg
on my tongue, a slight burn
while I yearn
for sweetness,
and your song

“Happy Day Day”

your two-ness
of delight    candles to blow
ribbons flow

twisting into this gift
of a child shifting,

becoming laughter.

Margaret Simon, draft

June is Two!

To see how other Inklings wrote to this challenge:

Heidi @my juicy little universe
Molly @Nix the Comfort Zone
Mary Lee @A(nother) Year of Reading
Linda @A Word Edgewise
Catherine @Reading to the Core

Read Full Post »

Slice of Life: A Wig for Christmas

Posted in being mamére, Gratitude, Poetry, Slice of Life, tagged , , , , , , on December 24, 2024| 6 Comments »

Thank you to Two Writing Teachers for creating an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write and share.

When I was 12 years old, all I wanted in this world was long hair. My hair was shoulder length with an uncontrollable wave right near my earlobe. But I could not grow long, luscious locks like other girls. So I asked my mother (Santa) for a wig. On Christmas Day, my wish came true. I remember wearing that long blond wig and being humiliated by comments from other kids. Shamed, disappointed, dreams dashed, I never wore the wig again.

Yesterday my now 4 year old granddaughter got an Elsa wig for her birthday. Oh, how Stella longs for long hair. My daughter tells me she wears her swimming cap with the fabric along the sides to pretend to have long hair, so the Elsa wig was an immediate hit. Stella didn’t wear it for long, but not because she was bullied about it. It just wasn’t practical for playing on the park’s ultimate tree house; you can’t roll around on a net without your hair falling off. I wish I could have been more like Stella when I was young.

Elsa “Stella”

I look at her boldness, her wild clothing choices, and her undying spirit of I’m-always-right, and feel hope for this new generation of girls. I hope we continue to raise girls who, like Stella, do what they want and stand up for what they believe in.

At the birthday party, my daughter was dressed like Stella requested, in two different animal prints. She looked amazing. Life is far from perfect these days, but watching my fierce daughter raise an equally fierce daughter gives me hope and delectation.* (Word of the day meaning a feeling of delight or enjoyment.)

At the party, I held the 4 month old daughter of one of my daughter’s friends. This poem came to me after reading the meaning of the word delectation.

Delectation
Holding the baby
small as a doll
seeing through her eyes
to the Aegean sea

feeling the weight of her
sink into my arms
wondering what kind of world
we are creating for her.

She smiles anyway,
grabs at the print of my shirt
rooting toward my breast
(a let-down tingles)
and I relax, trusting

as this infant trusts
she will be safe.

Margaret Simon, draft

Read Full Post »

This Photo Wants to be a Poem: Fountain

Posted in being mamére, Photography, Poetry, This Photo Wants to be a Poem, Writing, tagged , , , on December 18, 2024| 9 Comments »

Main Street Fountain by Margaret Simon

Last weekend I took my grandchildren to the Main Street library to do Christmas crafts. They enjoyed playing around the fountain. They were full of questions: Can you swim in there? Can I touch the water? Leo genuflected with the water, a move he apparently saw Spider-Man do.

I took this photo, marveling at how the drops of water seemed to dance in the wind.

I offer this photo as inspiration for your writing today. Do you have memories that may emerge? Can you write a small poem or haiku describing what you see? Anything is possible in poetry.

I’ve been writing Advent elfchen. Today’s poem sticks with this form.

Fountain
Dances along
While children play
Splashes of joyful laughter
Bubbler

by Margaret Simon, draft

Read Full Post »

Poetry Friday: My Place in the World

Posted in being mamére, Gifted Education, Poetry Friday, Writing, tagged , , , on November 23, 2024| 11 Comments »

Poetry Friday is gathered by Ruth at There is no such thing as a God-forsaken town.

My students and I are reading Out of the Dust by Karen Hesse. In the book, there is a poem “On the Road with Arley” that begins with line “Here’s the way I figure it, my place in the world is at the piano.” It’s been fun to find music of the time period and write alongside it. My students worked hard to create poems using this beginning line. I asked them to use imagery to create a tone. I wrote a model poem about my place in the world.

In a Canoe

Here’s the way I figure it,
my place in the world is 
on the bayou
lazing about in a canoe
with you.

I’m just a mamere
wanting the best time
to be outside
watching for eagles
slipping through slow current
listening for Mr. Owl
to cook-cook-for-you!

My place is in open toes
among cypress knees
sniffing catfish air
hearing cicadas buzz
when the sun goes down.

Here’s the way I figure it,
my place in the world
is in a canoe with you. 

Margaret Simon, draft

Photo by Nitin Arya on Pexels.com

Here’s the way I figure it,
my place in the world is
out of it.

My place is in a different place,
far away from here.
In a mythical world,
or one that is crumbling
even more than mine is.

With my favorite characters
I venture
for escape.
Escape.
My feet will beat the ground,

in my head a pound,
and then I settle down.
In a bed or a chair,
I wind

        wind

   wind

down.

I read, and I am free.

Here’s the way I figure it,
my place in the world is
seeking distraction from it.

Adelyn, 6th grade

Where is your place in the world?

Read Full Post »

Poetry Friday: Ten Ways of Looking at a Grandchild

Posted in being mamére, Poetry Friday, tagged , , on September 27, 2024| 17 Comments »

Poetry Friday is hosted today by Irene Latham at Live Your Poem.

This last Friday of September, the Poetry Sisters called out a challenge based on Wallace Steven’s Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird. I enjoy puzzling together ideas into poem forms. In the model poem, Stevens uses few words in each stanza to convey a single emotion or thought.

I became intrigued by the idea of looking at grandchildren, not a single one, but the idea of having a grandchild. I have three daughters, and have been blessed with 4 grandchildren, ranging in age from 5+ years to 21 months. Each of my daughters have had at least one miscarriage.

To write this poem, I started using sticky notes, I carried the collection around for a few days. It worked well for separating each one and arranging them into some logical order. Thanks to my Inklings’ honest feedback, I am ready to publish this poem here, but I’m not leaving it. I want to feel that it will grow as my grands grow and reveal more to me about this amazing journey in grandparenting.

Ways of Looking at a Grandchild

I.
Grandmother
Mother
Daughter
3 in 1
1 in 3
Egg to egg to egg

II.
Cut the cord
connection broken
New bond forever woken.

III.
Cells divide.
Divide again.
Sometimes there is no
heartbeat.

IV.
The way a mother looks
at her child with purest adoration–
A bloom of a flower planted
long ago.

V.
Golden curls,
crystal blue eyes–
Precious gems to hold.

VI.
Hand sign
three fingers
I
Love
You

VII.
One day she’s Ariel
another Anna, Batman, Spiderman—
always a fierce girl wonder.

VIII.
Whose eyes are these?
I think I know. I’ve seen them
from a portrait glow.

IX.
Whispers at bedtime
“Sing me the song you sing”
A grandmother’s lullaby.

X.
Curve our bodies together
and turn pages of a book,
We enter a magical place.

Margaret Simon, draft

Read Full Post »

« Newer Posts - Older Posts »