Personal Haiku written by me for you. $4.00 per Haiku. Proceeds go towards dance classes, etc. for Emma.

I am offering my writing services to you in a whimsical way to help with the cost of dance lessons for Emma or any activity that might be good for her. I am not asking for charity of any sort. I will provide you with a haiku written by me, topic of your choice. Hand-signed. $4.00 per haiku. I will need your email address and mailing address please. I will email you an invoice via PayPal. Please email me at acgorsline@yahoo.com or shoot me a Personal Message on Facebook.

Once Emma wasn't a pretender, not that i could see. But i wasn't looking hard enough...

So, the kids and I were in the car this evening. Noah had his notepad and pen and was taking Emma's order-- they were at a restaurant, you see. Emma said, "My name is Faith. F-a-i-t-h. McCarra. M-c-C-a-r-r-a. It's my birthday. I'm 32. When you bring out my cake, please put pink icing on it." My heart stopped. 32!!!! What?! I said, "Lord! Where has the time gone? How'd I get so old??" I was teasing of course. But really, yes, I did think, 'Where does it go? time? please slow down.' I thought how one day we will be celebrating her thirty-second birthday. It makes me panic.

Then another thought followed the panic. One that calmed me --I breathed again. It wasn't so long ago when Emma wasn't a pretender. Has it really been almost 7 years since I got her that wooden toy kitchen? The one she ignored. Except for the plates because they were circular. Circles were her obsession when she was 3. She stacked the plates and hoarded anything else circular, ring-shaped. I had a friend (sometimes these friends don't stick around too long when they see the differences between your child and theirs) whose daughter would make a beeline for the kitchen and "cook" us food and "wash" the dishes. Emma hummed. and stacked. and removed her clothes. In those days, I would get sad. but defensive. and tried to brush off the discontinued friendships as best I could.

Now I know better. I KNOW Emma was learning in HER way. not the way the professionals and the books told me she should be learning. those shapes were important to her. she self-soothed by rocking and humming (still does) so she could bear the noise of this other little busy child around her. her clothes were restrictive, a prison binding her aching skin. oh, I know. I've never liked clothes myself. sometimes I want to scream because of how they feel on me. I know.

I have Emma's milestones in my head. The day she brought a doll out and insisted we make a place for it at the supper table. She was almost 5. We had a party that night! My face was awash with tears all evening. I laughed and cried simultaneously. ...the day Emma said, "You are sad, Mommy. When we get home I will dance like a monkey for you." She had never (seemed) to be aware of my tears before. I know now that she has always been aware of my emotions, since day one. But this was the first time she verbalized something like that to me. ... The day (this year) she said, " I felt hurt today. ________ was mean to me. I'm so sad. I don't want to go to school." She's never told me before when someone has hurt her feelings or mistreated her. It made me sad to hear that, but it was a welcome shock too to know that she could put that into words for me so maybe I could help her.

I notice all things. I celebrate all the small and gi-normous victories.