Happy late Mother’s Day, my friends. I meant to write a post on Sunday. I *thought* about posting. I even *planned* my post. But then I fell asleep on the couch.
It was a much needed nap after an exciting (but very busy) previous week, which was full of readings in celebration of mothers’ stories. Both the Motherhood & Words reading and the first Twin Cities Listen To Your Mother event were huge successes. No one who attended either reading could deny (not that they’d want to) the power inherent in writing and telling our stories, or the incredible high you get from supporting other who are doing the same.
I’m grateful to have had the fabulous Caroline Grant and Katrina Kenison fly across the country for the Motherhood & Words reading. Thank you, Katrina and Caroline! What grace and poise and talent these two women possess. What an honor to share a podium with them.
And then last Thursday, I was thrilled to be a part of the inaugural Twin Cities Listen To Your Mother show at the Riverview Theater in Minneapolis. Holy kit-kats, people. There was a crowd of almost 500 people! I laughed, I cried, I got chills. My fellow readers blew me away.
(Photo by the wonderful Jen of Jennifer Liv Photography.)
Of course you know that I’m not about to stop celebrating your mother stories just because Mother’s Day has passed. No, no, no. I’m just getting started. It’s time once again, my friends, for the annual Motherhood & Words Haiku contest.
For those of you who are new to Motherhood & Words, a little background: I launched the contest in 2008, when Zoë was just a couple of months old and I developed a raging case of mastitis. D was traveling, so I was on my own, juggling an infant and a four-year-old. It wasn’t pretty, people. And in fact, it was such a traumatic experience that I felt I needed to honor it in some way.
What better way to do that than with a haiku?
Since then, we have celebrated toddler haiku, “what no one told me” haiku, “what surprised me about motherhood” haiku, and “something my child said to me” haiku. This year, the topic is—wait for it…wait for it…
a moment you won’t forget.
It could be a motherhood moment that you cherish, that made you collapse with laughter, or that shattered you with grief. Think small frame, detail.
I’m honored that the fabulously talented Jill Christman has agreed to be the judge of this year’s contest.
Remember: three lines – 5 syllables, 7 syllables, 5 syllables. Please put your entry in the comments below. The deadline is Monday, May 27th!
Don’t be scared. Haiku!!