Poetry is everywhere; it just needs editing ~ James Tate

As I was looking through old things today, I came across this poem I wrote a few years ago when I was going through a very difficult struggle in my life.  I have shared this poem with a select few in the past and today I share it more.

"The poem....is a little myth of man's capacity of making life meaningful.  And in the end, the poem is not a thing we see -- it is, rather, a light by which we may see -- and what we see is life." ~ RW

Clarity in Fog
Erica Vaughan Jarrard


Sun brightens, lights mimic
To reveal colors, shapes, movement
Moving to and from, back and forth
Some things never returning, some things never departing
All part of a scene
Constructed of pieces easily replaced to recreate

Tick-tock

Illuminated, the world is visible, in focus
Noises audibly distinguishable.
Lists created, tasks completed, checks marked
Accomplishments achieved, seen but unseen

Tick-tock

Vapor fills the air
Masking surroundings, slowing movement
Colors muted, distance shortened
Perfect circle in the sky, able to see with the naked eye

Tick

Aware, eyes opened, feet planted, fingers curled
Invisible drops embrace and penetrate
Softening skin, bending hair

Tock

Taking more, mouth opens and lungs fill
Inhaling purpose, exhaling extinction.
Centered in a cloud, in myself

Tick

Satisfied, filled, fog knowingly disappears
All part of a scene,
Left to become
All of me

Tock

I Work To The Best Of My Ability Today For A Better Tomorrow

I work to the best of my ability today for a better tomorrow.

I recognize each day is different.  Experiences day to day illicit a range of emotions depending on my current underlying emotion, my experiences in the past, my temperament, and my overall perspective, my lens in life.  Some days I can work harder, while others are a struggle to stand upright, to move past apprehensions, fears, and inhibitions.  Each day is work, no matter the starting point.

I work to the best of my ability today for a better tomorrow.

I recognize I cannot work alone, as much I want to or believe I can.  I need my faith in God.  I need the shoulders of friends to lean on and sometimes strong arms to carry me.  I need healthy relationships to be fed by both selflessly giving and openly receiving.  These relationships form a foundation.  Without a sturdy foundation, a rich soil, I cannot grow and I cannot work to my fullest capability.

I work to the best of my ability today for a better tomorrow.

I recognize I live in a body that was given to me with no choice in the matter.  It is my responsibility to strengthen, to rest, to nourish, to feed, to train, to listen to this body so it may carry me with the least amount of problems into the future.  My health is my responsibility.

I work to the best of my ability today for a better tomorrow.

I recognize I make mistakes.  I acknowledge and accept my role and responsibility in these.  I know my intention is not to hurt others, though it is the outcome at times.  I focus, pray and meditate on what I can do to prevent the same mistake(s), the same painful outcome, as I am the only one I can control and change.

I work to the best of my ability today for a better tomorrow.

I recognize I have many roles in life.  I am not perfect in any one, nor will I ever be.  I do not believe I am defined by my roles; I define the roles.  I work to become a better giver, listener, more compassionate, more patient, a more open person in general to feed the hats/roles I have in this life.  I believe this work only stops when I am no longer living.

I am full of hope and promise because I work to the best of my ability today for a better tomorrow.

Another school year is upon us and I say it was just in time.  I love my children dearly and love the freedom in the schedule of summer, but my children can't handle a lot of freedom without driving adults around them crazy.  Thank the Lord above for teachers!  It is a job I could not do without totally losing my mind (and let's face it, I'm not dealing with too many functional brains cells left as it is these days!).  I admire and respect those who go into the profession of teaching.

This year I have a 2nd grader, Ethan, a 4th grader, Avery, and a 6th grader, Emma.  Ethan returned to Walker this year and feels a little alone, as his sister is no longer in the same school as he.  I know he will thrive anywhere he his.  He is my thinker and loves to know how things work.  He is not afraid to tell you what he is thinking and why (something that is quite hard for most adult males).  I love how his mind works and look forward to conversations in the future with him as his mind continues to mature.

Avery continues his dance training and academics at Northwest Florida Ballet Academie.  I absolutely love this school and the opportunities they provide our surrounding community.  He not only learns the art of dance everyday with his 4th grade academics, but also attends French classes, art classes and hands-on learning at the Science Center weekly.  This year he continues the daily ballet training and has added on a hip-hop class.  He will also try out this year for the Nutcracker production.  I am so excited to see him perform on stage!

Our biggest change this year, as far as schools are concerned, is Emma.  Emma is a 6th grader this year, which means Middle School!  I felt in my heart I was at a crossroad with her.  I knew I had to make a more drastic decision as far as where she attended school this year, not because of the school she was zoned for but because of who my little girl is and the potential I believe she has to become given the correct environment for her.

As many already know, Emma was diagnosed with ADHD- Inattentive type in 2009.  Even as early as 2nd grade it was suggested by her teacher to have her tested.  I resisted until I saw her reading grades decline, as she is an excellent reader.  Her anger and frustration in herself also began to grow more and more. After several tests were given to her by a psychologist, the results showed a deficit in short term memory and other factors that pointed to her diagnosis.  She has and continues to learn coping mechanisms to aide her, along with a low dosage of medication.

The medication has been a struggle.  In part, finding the one that works best for her and convincing her she needs this to help her, not because she is "stupid", as she occasionally states.  There were times last year in which I let her stop taking the medication for a few weeks because she begged me too.  Unfortunately, her grades went from A, B & C's to C, D & F's when the medication was not given.  As for now, we have found a medication that works well for her with the least amount of side effects (jitters, appetite suppressant) at the lowest dosage.  She has not taken it all summer long and wanted to see if she could start the new school year out without taking it.  After several different discussions, she is eager to see how she does without, but understands if her grades are not where they should be she will need the aide of medication.

Given Emma's diagnosis and the fact she is entering into those lovely puberty years filled with self-doubt, I felt I needed her to be where she was going to be given the attentiveness she needs to do her best, as she is so quite in the classroom setting she can easily fall through the cracks all the while the frustration and anger in herself mount until she reaches home and explodes all over us.  I thought my only option would be to home school her, but did doubt in the "smoothness" of this.  I am her mother and I have found I do not do well as her teacher, even tutor.  I figured our best option was Okaloosa Online; a web-based school with her own set of teachers online and I signed her up for it.  I would remain the Mommy and occasional helper and she was excited to try it out.

You know how things fall into place differently and, consequently, for the better even though you thought you had everything planned out just right?  Thursday of last week, I signed Emma up for an art class online so she could get a feel for what the online school would be entail.  She didn't enjoy it and she loves art.  Yea, not a good sign.  The day before that I found out because of her diagnosis and her 504 school plan, she is eligible for a scholarship (John McKay) to attend private school. The day before that I saw she had received her middle school class schedule, which meant she was still enrolled even though I had filled paperwork for her to be home schooled.  AHHHH!!  I had basically 2 days to talk to the "correct" people in administration to get her out of Okaloosa Online, withdraw her from middle school, sign her up for the scholarship, and get her enrolled in a private school, specifically Lakewood Christian.  The obstacles: 1) busy time of the year for administrators and I'm sure my phone calls were the last on the list to return, 2) confirmation on the acceptance of the scholarship, which required administrative assistance, 3) no openings at Lakewood & 4) 504 plan lost in transit from elementary school to middle.

Wednesday and part of Thursday, I was a bit of a basket case.  I had done everything I could do and I wasn't quite sure what I was going to do with her by Monday.  By the afternoon of Thursday, I let my worries go.  I knew I had done what I could and what was meant to be would be.  I knew she would not be attending the middle school and even though she was excited at the prospect of attending Lakewood Christian, I was also very open with her in that her academics would more than likely have to be done with Okaloosa Online at home.

Friday was a new day.  Friday, I received a call from Lakewood Christian stating they had one opening for a 6th grader.  I found out from a returned phone call she indeed is eligible for the scholarship, though since I signed her up late we would have to cover the first few monthly payments.  I received another returned phone call stating she was taken out of the the Okaloosa Online system and yet another call stating there was a copy of her 504 plan I could pick up at the elementary school.  I withdrew her from Davidson and went with her for an afternoon appointment to Lakewood.

We both immediately loved the environment and staff we met at this school.  The principal was aware of her diagnosis and could finish my sentences in describing her.  She emphasized her and her staff's goals in teaching children are geared toward the success of the overall CHILD not the success of where they should be or who they should be according to standards. The curriculum is online with Alpha and Omega and she gets a 22" Apple computer all to herself!  She can work past her grade level if she posses the ability and desire. She has the aide of teachers to help her should she get "stuck" and is thrilled there is NO lunchroom (everyone brings a packed lunch), as she states the smell of a lunchroom is one of the worst parts of any school.  She was excited to learn she would wear a uniform to school too!  They were hesitant about starting her Monday because they wouldn't have a computer ordered and delivered in time.  I confidently stated I would be dropping her off Monday equipped with my MacBook Pro and I had no problem with her sitting on the floor.  Ha!

I dropped an excited confident little girl off this morning.  I almost shed a tear for the opportunity she has here.  My little girl will become a wonderful young adult thanks to this huge stepping stone in her path of life, in which I am so very grateful.

Changes are inevitable

Remember this place?  After vacations, visitors and summer chaos, I almost did too!  Moving along to more pressing matters:

As those who know me well are aware of, I am not looking forward to those upcoming teenage years in my children and have been apprehensive of those years as soon as I saw the plus sign indicating the conception and pregnancy of my first child. This time when some sort of ingrate alien takes over their body and doesn't leave for many many years has me feeling like I better find some tough armor and "weapons" in order to keep some sort of homeostasis in my household, even though it may last minutes at a time.  I view this upcoming period as more exhausting than exhilarating; I desperately hope my strong-willed children will prove me wrong.

It is ironic that I chose the user name "Rosebud" for this blog. "Rosebud Circle" was the name of the street where we purchased our first house, "Rosebud" was the name I deemed for myself should I let all bodily hair grow freely (I'm still Erica, but Rosebud has moved to my second name), and "Rosebud Farms" is what my neighbor suggested I name my backyard with all of it's inhabitants.  It is not the first word of this compound word that has me creating this post, but the latter.  Before I continue on, let me clarify this post is not to embarrass any particular female child of mine; it is merely a confession of my own apprehensions and fears toward the inevitable changes of a particular female child of mine.

We all are aware or can acknowledge many things in this life on a variety of subjects, but chose to ignore or side step the unpleasant things about such until it is directly in front of us blocking all forward motion in our particular path in life forcing us to deal with the reality of it all.  Based on some recent developments, I am forced to acknowledge the puberty years are coming and I'm a bit scared.  OK, maybe a lot scared.

I'm just going to put it out there; Emma has developed a breast bud.  Here is how the discovery went down:
Emma- Mommy, can I show you something?  Avery accidentally kicked me while we were swimming and it hurts.
Me- Sure, where is it?
Emma- Here. (as she lifted her shirt to show me)
Me- Hmmm. (as I calmly palpated the small fibrous mass all the while thoughts invade my head: WHAT?!  No, it can't be.  She is just turning 11, she is petite, she is too young. Yea, it has to be a bruise without the bruising colors that just happens to be under the areola.  Yea, that's it.) Well, Emma, that may be the very beginning of a breast.


That evening, I was burning up the Internet on bud developments and appropriate ages for such, as I could not remember when exactly this happened for myself.  I could, however, swear it was not until I was 12, 13 or maybe even 14.  From what I found, nine years old is normal for the development of a breast bud. AHHHH!  OK, so I swallowed that jagged pill with lots of hesitation and brought myself to believe that my daughter, my little child daughter whom I just gave birth to not so long ago, MAY be starting the early stages of puberty (maybe the pill was still stuck in my throat).


The next morning I set Emma aside and told her I thought what she showed me was indeed the beginning of a breast.  I reminded her of discussions we had in the past on what else she should expect as her body goes through these changes.  She is well informed and in a way, proud her body was doing what it was supposed to do.


A week or so goes by and all the while I have this nagging little tickle in the back of my mind.  Deep in daily activities it lies within me subconsciously and when driving, as I do my best thinking then, it comes to my conscious.  I feel and am very open with my children in my role as their mother, to raise them to one day leave me so they may become stable and contributing adults in society.  It is my job as their mother to teach them, support them to reach this goal.  This step, this milestone, is another step in letting go.  I have no doubt my children will thrive without me; I only pray they continue to realize, even through rough times, each are a piece of my tender heart.  When they hurt, I hurt, when they are sad, I'm sad, when they laugh, I laugh, when they are proud, I am proud.  I will love them no matter what.


More recently, Emma has come to me declaring she has discovered hair growth. *Whimper*

Tolerance defined

Tolerance: the act or capacity of enduring

Am I smiling big enough, Queen Emma?

Introducing Tinky, the Jester, who not only is adorned in over-sized pipe cleaners, but has a dog-treat attached to the top of the headdress.

You never quite know what you will find while cleaning your house.

This morning, I unlocked the chains and cracked the whips on my children to help clean the house.  (This, of course, is an exaggeration but one that has to be stated, as my children believe I gave birth to them in order to have some help around the house.)  Between the whipping sessions, I came across Avery's school journal.  My eyes landed on his last entry:

I woke up in the morning feeling weird, like somebody else.  I looked at my mirror.  I saw Ms. Rich.  My cat came in the room and when he looked at me he said, "MEEOW!".  I scared him half way to China.  I didn't know what to do.

To see if I could drive, I had to sneak into my Mom's room and, of course, she forgot to shave her legs.  Those gorilla monster legs were hairier than you could see them.  They poked through her pants, but I didn't care.  

So, I got the keys and drove to Pensacola.  I made some fresh pickles for me.  But when I got in the classroom nobody was there, so I went shopping.  I went shopping with Mr. Noon.  When I got home, I didn't look like Ms. Rich anymore.

Hilarious.  (Ms. Rich was his 3rd grade teacher at NWB Academie)

The Art of Introduction

Hi, my name is Erica.  I am married with three children.  I manage a household with numerous pets to include a cat, 2 dogs (by the way, does anyone want them?), and seven chicks in various stages of growth.  I am trying my hand at gardening fruits and veggies this year.  I also remain active at my local Y teaching a Body Sculpt class and Yoga.  My interests include reading, writing, gardening, photography, and traveling.  I hope to resume my Master's classes in Contract and Acquisition Administration in the fall.  There.  That was easy.

Two chicks, both named Erica

In the chicken world, it is not this easy.  A flock establishes a pecking order fairly early, it seems.  How do they figure out who will be in charge?  It is the one who flies and steps on the others heads and backs the most?  Perhaps it is the one who pecks the hardest and/or most frequently?  Or the one who stands the tallest and whose feathers puff out the most?  Or maybe it's the one who can do all these effectively?  I've even considered possibly, just maybe, one may smell more dominant than the rest. Whatever the exact reasoning, it is very interesting to watch.

As many of you know, we have a flock of four, originally five (RIP Bullet), that hatched into the world of an incubator in my closet a few days prior to Easter weekend.  There were more, but five was our limit to keep.  Then, due to plans not going according to plans, two more hatched in the incubator nearly two weeks ago.  The seventh?  Originally coming into our household as temporary guest due to her own flock pecking her like crazy, she is now here to stay.  The younger two and her have already established a pack together.  When one is apart, the others cry until the chick is returned.  It's hard to tell who is the most dominate in that flock.  Scabby (the one who was pecked in her original flock) is older, so she tries to dominate the other two, but I think Willow will eventually win over the leader position.

Today, we did a little introduction to the original group who are now 9 weeks old now.  Eventually, we will get rid of the ones who show themselves to be roosters, but I thought we would see how it went before that happens.  Notice the bigger ones I left in the hen house, for fear they would attack the little ones.

Who do you think you are?!

Scabby stands tall and attempts to approach the original group.  The other two (a blur in the background) stand back.  Oreo and Peep, the two black & white ones and the most dominate, somehow communicate to her to get back.  Probably suffering for PTSS, she did retreat back to her little friends. 

Just look confident guys!!  They will like us, maybe.

Eventually, they all got a little closer together, but I don't think I really felt any love flowing between the two groups.  They were both curious about each other, but I think only so much as to get a whiff of the competition.  At least now there is an awareness of each other.

The lesson: Despite your personal efforts, desires, and hopes that everybody (or every chicken) will get along, be friendly, kind and hospitable toward each other, nature mixed with nurture will simply not allow for it in this life.  This, however, should not totally discourage one from trying.