Because, they are inevitable.

Photo by niklas_hamann on Unsplash

I taught my son some sign language before he was able to speak. I read that it would ease his frustration while he was working on language development, but it actually delayed his speech.

That was a mistake.

When he was very small, we let him have a white noise machine and lullabies playing in his room every night when he went to bed. It helped soothe him to sleep, but it also made it difficult for him to self-soothe as he got older.

That was another mistake.

I didn’t give my son soda, but he did get lemonade from…

Because, he is not me, nor do I want him to be.

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My son left for college a little more than two months ago and, I must admit, he isn’t making all the choices I want him to make.

Worse, I have much less say in the matter than ever before.

In the beginning, there is The Plan.

When you are a new parent and your child is small, you are full of bold statements about The Way Things Will Be.

Your child will love reading.

They will understand the value of an education.

They will cherish family as a crucial part of their life.

They will be, not just tolerant, but kind, intuitive, and wise.

In short, your…

Image by Gene Taylor from Pixabay

Two hours wasn’t really that much of a drive, when he thought about it. Sure, it wasn’t his first pick of the way to spend a Friday night after a long week at work, but it wouldn’t kill him either. He should be doing it more often.

After all, it was worth a minor inconvenience when he considered how much it meant to his dad.

Todd peered out into the gathering dusk. It was that odd time of evening when it was too dark to go without headlights and still to light for the headlights to make a lot of…

She’s my literary hero.

Scheherazade” by Sophie Gengembre Anderson [Public domain]

I believe Scheherazade is the idol of my writing life. What an amazing testament to the power of an excellent story, well told!

So, who is Scheherazade?

It’s a rather long story, though her part seems small.

The collection of stories known as “A Thousand and One Nights,” or “Alf laylah wa Laylah,” is drawn together as a cohesive collection by the use of what is called a “framing device.”

Scheherazade is this framing device.

We are told of a sultan who, having been wronged by his wife, sought revenge against all women. He executed his wife then, married a new virgin bride.

This hapless girl was likewise executed in…

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“Time flies when you’re having fun.”

Gage cringed. He hated that old saying. It had to be, hands down, the most obnoxiously smug thing he’d ever heard. He noticed it was never, ever said by anyone who was having any of the fun. Generally, it dribbled out of the smirking mouth of someone who was a perfect killjoy. This instance was certainly an excellent example, he thought, as he looked over at the speaker. It just figured it would be Howard. Gage rolled his eyes when he realized Howard was still talking.

“But, of course, we know that all good…

And three things that are perfectly okay.

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In today’s age of online ancestry tracing, vast social network communication, and even do-it-at-home DNA testing kits, it’s next to impossible to keep an adoption secret.

As an adoptive parent, I think this is just fine.

There is more than one way to become a family and there is no need to perpetuate stigmas associated with any of them.

Bringing it into the open will create questions.

A new child in a family is always a topic of much discussion and, if that child comes to the family via adoption, the questions are even more numerous.

Of course, people will be curious. A biological child comes with quite…

image via

“Hey, your thumb is higher up than mine. That’s cheating.”

“Then, move your thumb up, too. Why are you holding it so low, anyway?”

“Because this is how you’re supposed to do it. You’re not supposed to brace it with your thumb at all,” said Tammy. “Just hold onto the long part on your side and pull.”

“Who says that’s how you’re supposed to do it?” Martin asked. “Are there actual rules for this? Hey, Alexa, how do you make a wish on a wishbone?”

Martin grinned naughtily while Tammy fumed, as the Echo on the table recited from the…

But a dead modem showed my dependence.

Photo by Leon Seibert on Unsplash

My high speed, super-duper wireless modem thingy died of dignified old age and I spent all last week without internet connection.

You’d think I was the hapless protagonist in a Saturday matinee time travel movie, and I was ruthlessly flung back into the stone age.

Looking back, I believe it has been nearly eight years since I last experienced any loss of connectivity. We had just moved into our current home and, for a variety of reasons I don’t clearly recall anymore, our internet provider was unable to hook up our home for about a week.

I remember it as…

This is a multitasking breakdown.

Image by Clker-Free-Vector-Images from Pixabay

In the past six months, I’ve had the opportunity to focus on my writing in a much more serious way than ever before. I’m enjoying myself. I’m learning a great deal and I’ve met some great people with gobs of talent.

For all the progress I’ve made, however, I have identified a new and totally unexpected problem.

When it comes to my writing, I don’t seem to be able to multitask.

I suppose I should have suspected.

When starting a writing project, I am a planner, not a pants-er. I need some sort of outline, however rough, to serve as a roadmap.

Having developed my plan…

A letter to myself

Photo by Matt Hoffman on Unsplash

Dear You,

Nineteen years ago, today, you became a mother.

Perhaps, your memory of those first days has blurred a bit. I’m certain your memory of those first hours are fuzzy because sleep deprivation will do that. Let me help clear things up a bit.

The first night you spent with your son was, let’s face it, traumatic all around. He was only a month old and the two people who carried him away from his foster home were complete strangers. You looked wrong, sounded wrong, and undoubtedly smelled wrong. You were just wrong. …

S. J. Gordon

Singer of songs, collector of stories, modern-day Scheherazade, and a damned fine bird wrangler.

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