Thank you to Two Writing Teachers for creating an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write and share.
Text from my daughter: “Family picnic at Myrtle on Oct. 3rd. Can you go?”
“Yes! I’m in.”
Mamére with Stella at the family picnic.
The family picnic coincided with the Scholastic Book Fair.
I’m usually on the other side of the book fair. Now I never did have to run it. Hats off to the school librarian. And I did not volunteer. But it was always an exciting week at school. The librarian had coffee and pastries every day. There were quiet times when I could go in, and I always bought books for my classroom or for my grandchildren. One of the things that bugged me were the toys and trinkets. I suppose these are there for kids who didn’t have enough money to buy a book, but as a teacher, I inevitably was taking away one of the treasures from distractible kids.
I set up a rule before we even walked into the book fair. Mamére doesn’t buy toys, only books.
Stella’s pre-k 4 class was the first group at the picnic. (They had a rolling schedule.) So Stella and I went through the book fair with ease. She picked out two books and a diary with keys. I decided the diary was not a toy. I want to encourage any kind of writing, even pre-k scribble and drawing. There wasn’t a huge crowd, either.
However by the time the first graders made it into the book fair, the line was a swirl and the library was full of parents, kids, teachers, and noise! Again, I didn’t mind. I enjoyed visiting with a mother in line with me. We both have Leos. Hers is Leo Fox and mine is Leo Wolf. I recalled when they were born around the same time. Her sister-in-law is a friend of mine.
Scholastic books are sneaky about the toy thing. Leo picked out a book about snakes that had a plastic snake skull with it, a book about sharks that included shark teeth, and a book about making Play-Doh sea animals that, of course, came with Play-Doh.
Stella was a little bit upset that Leo got toys. But they were excited that I checked them out of school, and we had an afternoon of playtime at Mamére’s house. I think I like this side of book fair madness.
Thank you to Two Writing Teachers for creating an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write and share.
I retired at the end of the 2025 school year. I’m still finding my way.
Check off travel: We spent a week in Scotland over the Labor Day weekend. (It seems like a dream now.)
My husband Jeff and I on the Britannia in Edinburgh.
Daily walks with my dog, Albert: We did this earlier on school days. Now I get to stop and chat with neighbors along the way.
Time with grandchildren: I’m driving to New Orleans this afternoon for another few days with Thomas. I hope to get in some Sam snuggles, too.
Grandparents’ Day in kindergarten with Thomas!
Domestic stuff: Watering the grass, doing the laundry, cooking (wait! I haven’t done much of that), financials, cleaning…There is always a list of chores.
On Monday, I told Jeff I was finally going to have a real retirement day. I had a massage and lunch with a friend (also retired). Taking care of myself in this way makes me feel guilty. Isn’t there something more productive I “should” be doing?
I had to buy a paper calendar, no free one from the school photo company. It’s mostly full, but I find myself with pockets of time rather than a whole day. So what do you do with an hour here or there?
People say I will get into a rhythm, a routine, settle in to retirement. It’s only September.
Thank you to Two Writing Teachers for creating an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write and share.
Have you seen Matilda, the Musical? I’ll take any excuse to see a musical. Our local performing arts league, IPAL, does a musical every summer with kids under the age of 18. I am always impressed with the skills of these young people and their directors. Matilda was no exception.
Last summer I took Leo to Beauty and the Beast. We weren’t sure how he would like it, but he sat in his seat mesmerized for the whole play. We took a picture with Gaston.
Leo, age 5, with Gaston from Beauty and the Beast (IPAL, 2024)
This year Leo is 6, which means he’s all grown up and knows about musicals.
Sister Stella is four. So it was a long shot to try to take her to the show. My daughter decided to go with us because two kids are harder than one.
Stella was not as mesmerized as Leo. She asked a lot of questions.
“Why is Miss Trunchbull a boy?!”
I explained the beauty of theater is that boys can be girls and girls can be boys.
Stella also had a little trouble suspending belief.
“Her father is so mean!”
“He’s just pretending, remember?”
Leo and Stella both enjoyed the time called “Intermission” when they could get treats.
While Stella lost her patience about a half hour before the play was over, “Is it over yet?”, she can’t wait to go to another musical.
Stella with Miss (or Mr?) Trunchbull.Intermission snacks!
This week’s photos may be a bit selfish on my part. I hope you can find a way into writing from your own life. Leave a poem in the comments and respond to other writers.
Two weeks ago my youngest daughter gave birth to my youngest grandchild, Sam. He is absolutely perfect. I marveled at him for days. All his tiny parts, especially his long fingers and his tiny toes. Two of his toes are webbed.
I can’t really write anything that isn’t sappy, but never mind, just dig right in to it. Grandmothers are made to be sappy.
Perfection Is
Ten fingers ten toes that treasure your gentle touch.
Twelve days ago, this beautiful boy came into my world. Wrapped in the stitches I crocheted for him, he sleeps. While he sleeps, I breathe his newness and want to hold onto that feeling that all is well with the world.
Six days ago my mother, Sam’s great grandmother, died. She slipped out of this world that had been her home into a new one, where we will all be someday. I like to think it’s a better place, a warm welcoming embrace.
I got a phone call message from my aunt, Alabel. She was once married to my mother’s brother, and she has remained a part of our family. Her message said, “I have been so privileged to be a part of your family. I’m glad your mother is now free and happy and seeing Johnny (my father)…I hear you have a new grandchild. That’s how it works, the saints are leaving and the saints are coming.”
I couldn’t have said it better myself.
Thank you to Two Writing Teachers for creating an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write and share.
Thank you to Two Writing Teachers for creating an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write and share.
This past weekend was the Open Write at Ethical ELA. I am trying to write a poem every day, but it sure helps to have a good prompt. On Sunday, Tammi Belko led us to write in response to the question “What is normal?” You can see her full prompt here.
I was spending the morning with two of my grandchildren. As I sat with my tablet and notebook pondering her prompt, my grands Leo and Stella were drawing. Leo, age 6, has always loved drawing. Now he is old enough to add words to his drawings. Stella, his sister age 4, is following in his footsteps. Her drawings tell stories.
Super Dino-Force by Leo“The monster was walking in the forest. In the ocean, the whale was splashing.” By Stella
Kid-Time Normal
All they need is a marker and paper— Imagination soars… Dinosaurs with super powers, Bad guys with two robot arms, Magical crystal charms… Transformed Transfixed Time stops on paper.
Thank you to Two Writing Teachers for creating an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write and share.
The week of Earth Day was a spring break for my grandson Leo. Because he has working parents, he went to his former daycare for the week. We are not sure if that is where he learned about Earth Day, but he came home and wrote in his special journal (the one with the soft cover). Leo is in kindergarten, so he is new to reading and writing, but this grandmother/ teacher/ writer sees the potential of his writing. If nothing else, it will go in the archives of his earliest writing.
My interpretation: “How Do You Help The Earth”
Do not litter. Do not throw trash on the ground. Do not pick the plants. Do not kill the plant. Do not kill the environment. Do not cut the trees because the trees help us breathe.
How do we help the people?
We can help people walk and help people get things if they can’t reach it. We can help do the remote when people can help people keep up the house and we can all help people get ready for a party. We can help people if they have a broken leg. You can help people if they are not tall enough to put up the lights.
How do you share? You can give away something.
Keeping the world good. by Leo, age 6 (kindergarten)
I’ve been writing this month with Ethical ELA’s #Verselove. On Sunday, Susan Ahlbrand led us in a prompt called “Lingering Lines.” We could choose a song from a musical to use as inspiration. One of my favorite musicals is Waitress by Sarah Bareilles, and my favorite song is You Matter to Me. Try to listen to it without crying. I can’t.
My grandson, Thomas (5.5)
This weekend my daughter was visiting with her son, Thomas, who is now 5 and a half. How time flies! He is the sweetest boy with an active imagination and crystal blue eyes. He loves me without condition which warms my mamére heart. I borrowed the song lyric and wrote a short poem for Thomas.
You Matter to Me
I find sea glass treasure in your eyes. You look in my heart as a mirror and smile for the picture frame. You matter to me.
I sing a lullaby love song and you think I’m magical. You say “I love you” like they’re the easiest words to say.
I know your love is true innocence of a 5 year old simple and free, no baggage or judgement. You see You matter to me.
Margaret Simon, draft
Kidlit Progressive Poem Update: Patricia had a family emergency, so Rose is taking her line today (at Imagine the Possibilities). That is one thing I love about this community. We can lean on each other.
Thank you to Two Writing Teachers for creating an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write and share.
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.
Margaret Simon lives on the Bayou Teche in New Iberia, Louisiana. She teaches gifted elementary students, writes poetry and children's books. Welcome to a space of peace, poetry, and personal reflection. Walk in kindness.
Reflections on the Teche 