Hush Little Baby

Hush little baby, don’t say a word.
I used to sing you to sleep with that song.
You were my tiny little baby boy,
all cuddled up in momma’s arms.
You always had one binky in your mouth,
another clenched in your fist.
You’d suck on one, and then switch to the other.
Suck, switch, suck, switch, over and over.
It was one of the many adorable things about you.
I would smile as I sang, sometimes cry.
I wished I’d always be able to give you the world,
as the mother does for her child in the song.
Last week you couldn’t sleep,
so I sat on the edge of your bed and sang.
I asked you what song you wanted to hear next and you said,
“That cause and effect song, Mom.”
I knew right away which song you meant.
Even though you are almost eight,
And wise beyond your years,
you are still my baby boy.
Because in that instant, while I sat on the edge of your bed singing,
I was taken back to that day, eight years ago,
when I held you for the first time.
I looked into your brilliant blue eyes and thanked the stars in heaven
for blessing me with such a beautiful child.
You are everything to me, Nicholas.
Your caring heart, your sensitive smile, your contagious laughter
All help me to believe that the world is a marvelous place.
Life can be a challenge, but it’s a truly amazing gift.
And believe me, if that billy goat runs away,
you’ll still be my little bitty sweety boy.
Don’t ever give up.
Things will get better if you can just hang on. 
Hush little baby, don’t say a word.
Close your eyes.
Momma’s here. 


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An unsophisticated playground pastime, isn’t it?
Boys versus girls
Twenty feet skidding toward the muddy abyss
Grunts and groans and caterwauls
Mixed laughter
Muscles tighten, strain
I can’t hold on much longer
My grip is slipping
And I’m pulling with all my might
This game is exhausting
And I want to let go
But then I’d be letting my team down, right?
There are really scarcely any of us, in comparison
But I’m undoubtedly not very strong
My contributions to the team are minimal, actually
I should just do it
Let go
And then when my hands are free from this rope
This lifeline, in fact
I would probably fall
Fall to the ground
Face in the mud
I could walk away
From contrived notions and expectations
My eyes fixed upon a vibrant, promising sunrise
Because I’m still young, after all
And mornings offer a chance for renewal
Don’t you think?

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There was a poem here this morning.  I promise there was. I hit the publish button and my precious poem was sucked through the vacuum of cyberspace, never to return again. And it sucks, too, because I haven’t written in a over a year, and this morning I found inspiration as I sat in the kitchen, sipping coffee and viewing the morning out my window. I’ll try again later, but right now it’s hard not to feel the universe is sending me a message. Don’t be so selfish, Brigitte, just rewrite the damn thing! Later, I say, later. 


February 17, 2013 · 7:49 am

“Write your fir…

“Write your first draft with your heart. Rewrite with your head.” — From the movie Finding Forrester

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February 17, 2013 · 7:29 am

Brenda Drake’s Blogfest Contest Entry

Here’s the link to the contest:


How much does our gender define us?  Meet Jamie Turner, a 17 year old girl with girl problems, but the worst one of all is that she was born a boy.

First 150 words:

Sandy watched helplessly as Jamie, her seventeen year old child, slowly got out of the passenger seat of the car and trudged toward the school doors, her head down and her feet dragging.  She never lifted her chin to meet the gazes of the students gathered in clumps that were scattered throughout the school yard.  She walked on, focused on her destination—the doors to the school where she would, as soon as the bell rang, skip stopping at her locker and head straight for homeroom.  Ms. Lockley, her homeroom teacher, seemed to be the only person on the planet who understood her and, as long as she was near her, she would feel safe.

But she hadn’t reached the doors yet.  A vastness still existed between the crack she just stepped over in the sidewalk and the crack in the brick next to the door that she stared at every morning while waiting for the bell to ring.

Any thoughts or suggestions are much appreciated.  Thanks!


Filed under Fiction, Writing

Putting one foot in front of the other can be hard to do…

After taking a good month or more hiatus from my novel, I’ve spent the last two days back at it, simultaneously revising and editing. While I was writing it, for the sake of time, I had to turn my internal editor off. Now I have all the time in the world to hack the thing to pieces.
And it’s discouraging. Part of me feels like forgetting the whole idea, concentrating on finding a real job and giving up this whole writer dream. But another, much huger, part of me believes in the book, wants to tell my characters’ stories, and just won’t give up.
I am spending way too much time reading what other writers are doing, organizing all of the writing advice I hear into something manageable in my brain, that I’m starting to feel overwhelmed.
Tomorrow is a new day. I’m going to start it fresh with a cup of coffee, a brisk walk, and a new attitude.
Wish me luck!


Filed under Fiction, Writing

So Brigitte, what have you been up to?

This is a question I hear a lot.  Well let me tell you!

I’ve slowed down somewhat on revisions of my book.  I think I’ll take some advice I’ve been hearing and just let it stew around in my head for a bit before I really tackle it.  So instead of doing any hardcore revising, I’ve been organizing—setting the chapters up, creating the outline that I never had while writing it, doing some research and networking—and mostly performing non-writing endeavors.  I did sign up for a January writing workshop that I’m excited about.  Hopefully upon completion of it I’ll able to write a decent synopsis of my book, so stay tuned for that!

I’ve been spending two days a week at my son’s school.  I am the volunteer coordinator for the PTC and that has meant doing some heavy recruiting for the school’s holiday store.  If I ever think I should sign up for something like this again, someone slap me.

This year I was kissed by a magical Christmas elf…or something.  I used up every last holiday decoration that I had and the result is like something from the movie Elf…except without Will Ferrell in tights.  Being home, when it’s clean, with it all decked out for Christmas, makes me feel happy.  And add to that the activities I’ve been doing with my son that are reminiscent of when I was a little girl, well…it’s been a great holiday season.

I’m still hunting for the perfect job that doesn’t seem to want to present itself.  Maybe getting that degree in Literature wasn’t the smartest move–but at least I had fun doing it!

It’s cloudy out today but at least its drying up somewhat!  Do I dare mop the floors or would that be jinxing things???


Filed under Writing