Ready for your first 10-minute writing exercise? This one is based on Wild Mind by Natalie Goldberg...
Write for 10 minutes and start your post with the phrase "I remember..."Only write for 10 minutes. Use a timer. Don't stop writing/typing. Doesn't have to be in the past. It could have been five minutes ago, as Goldberg says. If you get stuck in thought, go back to the phrase "I remember." Don't spell check. Don't edit yourself. Not even to post. Don't worry if you're not sounding like Toni Morrison or [Insert your Favorite Writer].
Post your 10-Minute Exercise link in comments or track back so we can all read each other's stuff.
Ready?
Go.
"I remember when Q. would cry, scream and grab my legs in fear when the babysitter would knock at the door. He knew. He just knew that Mama was leaving and he'd have to play with someone else not Mama. I remember gathering my computer and purse in a hasty rush to get out the door to stop him from this agony. To not have to hear him cry. To not have to see his angry, tear-stained face and mochos streaming down from his nose. I remember the guilt of leaving him with someone else. The working mom guilt. The damned if you do damend if you don't thought that stuck in my head. The blaring music I played to keep my thoughts off of Q. and on someone else. The singer. The song. The singer. The cute, handsome, rugged singer. The cries. The tears. The dilemma. I remember the babysitter coming over this morning and Q. didn't cry. He said "Mama, no bye bye." Mama, don't go. He started to cry, but for only a second. And then he started play peek-a-boo with the babysitter by hiding behind my legs. Peeking his face in between my knees. I remember saying "Q. dame u besito" and where he normally runs to me and kisses me ferociously, I remember him not even paying attention to me. Just playing with his Thomas the Tank Engine wooden train tracks. Burying his face in the plastic container that contained all the tracks. He started babbling and singing as I stood. No Squatted, about two feet from him. So I leaned over and kissed him goodbye. He didn't even notice. Or chose not to. And so back to the thoughts. I was hit with a brief moment of sadness. He wasn't mad, sad, cranky, that I was leaving. He wasn't throwing himself at me, begging, pleading for me to stay. He wasn't. He WAS happy. Adjusted. Accepting. I remember grabbing my bags to leave the house. The bags that were prepared earlier in the morning for a quick, hasty escape because I assumed it was Monday and he'd have a tough time with me leaving. But he didn't. And now, I can't wait to get home and see him. The working mom dilemma. Damned if you do. Damned if you don't. Yet always happy to be with your kids. I remember."
