Wednesday, February 15, 2012

The Sensational World According to Jaimie: We're Having A Writing Contest!

As you all know, two of Jaimie's favorite activities are writing and reading. This makes me so happy not only because these activities have obvious benefits but also because Jaimie finds tremendous comfort in both areas. Whenever the world is too much or she needs a bit of 'calm down time', she'll often grab a book or her writing notebook, curl up with her ipod and delve right in. I'm so relieved that she's finally getting to the point where she's able to self-regulate...and in such a positive way!

She's come up with a brilliant idea for today's post and it stems from her love for books. And I'm honored to play a very small part in her brilliant plan!

I'll get straight to her post because she's been patiently waiting for me to post this for a couple of weeks now.

Enjoy!

This is Jaimie. I don't have as much to say today so, I guess, this will be shorter than I usually write.

Okay, so I told Mom a long time ago that I thought it was be SUCH a great idea to have a writing contest on her blog. She said that she's going to do that kind of stuff on her author blog now but she said she would help me do one here this time.

SO guess what? Mom and I are having a writing contest right here! And I get to be a judge! I asked Mom what her best experience was and she said it was whenever I have a best experience. She said that publishing her first book was a pretty cool thing too. And meeting RINGO, of course. I'm not sure what mine is but Mom said I could come back and write it on here later.

These are the rules:
  • Write a story 250 words or less talking about your best experience ever - kinda like Phineas and Ferb style, you know? It doesn't have to be about SPD, like what I write sometimes, but if you have a story there I'd LOVE to read that too!
  • Write it under this post like a comment. Mom said that was easier than having everyone send stuff to her.
  • Remember kids like me read it so make sure it says nice stuff and there's no mean words. Mom will delete it for sure!
  • People have until February 29th to enter. I'll tell Mom who should win and she said she'd put the winner up on March 1st.
  • Join our blogs! That's not really a BIG rule but it would be cool if you did.  
Here's what you'll win:
Okay so that's all for now. I'll try and think of my best experience ever then tell Mama to write it for me. Have fun!

14 comments:

Anonymous said...

During one summer visit, my mother handed me two little dolls. “I remember how much you loved these,” she said.
“Where’s George?” I asked.
“You only had these two,” she insisted.
“No, I had three.” George had been the one who smiled with a glimpse of little teeth.
“Well, that’s all I could find,” my mother said.
“Can we play with them?” asked Colleen. She was six.
“Let me see,” said her little sister, Lara.
My girls, of course, loved the Beatles, though their favorite was Ringo, the doll I never had. When my mother bought these dolls in 1964, she said Ringo was all sold out.
I gave the dolls to my girls, and off they went to take Paul and John on some adventure in the front lawn. “Baby, you can drive my car,” Lara was singing.
A little while later Lara came in sobbing. “Grandpa mowed over Paul,” she wailed. Outside I could hear the rattle of the electric lawnmower and my dad saying some bad words, so it wasn’t hard to figure out what killed Paul.
Colleen came in a few minutes later, and from the slump of her shoulders I knew something happened to John. “Lucky ran off with my doll,” she said. Lucky was a Dalmation, whose spotted white body was now hunkered down in the grass. He was holding John between his paws, chewing him up like rawhide.
“They were stupid dolls anyway,” Colleen said. “Come on, Lara, let’s play with our Barbies.”
That was in the late seventies. It wasn’t until 2005 that I found George. I was going through my mother’s clothes, and there he was, smiling at me in his own quiet way. George has always been my favorite Beatle.


from Sharon

Chynna said...

ROFL @ Grandpa mowing over Paul. HAHAHAHAHAH!!! Poor Paul. =( (Jaimie and I both loved that.)

Congrats on being our first entry, Sharon. GREAT story! (And what a perfect theme for Jaimie. ;) )

Chynna

Becca said...

The dance studio smells like old wood and sweat, and I imagine the smells as goblins sitting on the back of my throat, waiting for me to swallow them. I am too nervous to swallow, so they just sit there. They don’t do it to be mean; it’s just that they know I don’t really want to be in ballet. After our first performance, I tell my mom I think I’ll try softball instead.

The softball field smells like dirt and grass. I like running around the bases and catching the balls. My coach yells at me a lot because I can’t hit a ball. The goblins return, only this time they sit on my stomach, and I feel sick. I think these might be the mean ones. My mom gives me a hug and a kiss and tells me she is proud of me for finishing the season.

I am playing in the tree fort with my brothers, and we see a lady running on the road by herself. I tell my dad that I am going to go running too. He and my mom smile at one another.

The track smells like rubber and happiness. The girls on my cross country team are going to be in 7th grade, too. I can tell some of them have goblins sitting in their throats, and I want to tell them it will be okay because it turns out, goblins don’t like running much. I think I will run forever.

Dana said...

Driving through Utah, we saw the dark clouds up ahead. The kids were in the backseat playing “What’s in My Mind?” It’s a game the whole family plays on long road trips. You pick something; an animal, person, or a thing, and the rest of us ask ‘yes’ or ‘no’ questions and try to guess it.

We could see the red hoodoos looing like stoic, little men saluting the oncoming storm. Hoodoos are volcanic rock formations created by thousands of years of erosion. A bolt of lightening shot across the valley. Everyone in the car gasped. My husband told us to stay calm and that the car was a safe place to be. The kids shouted, “Awesome!”

Hail began to fall, at first little tiny pellets of freezing rain, and then the storm intensified. Soon the car was being pummeled by hail the size of marbles. The sound from inside was deafening. My husband pulled the car over to the side of the road. My daughter, eyes wide, asked me if we were going to be okay and I told her, of course we would. My son was gawking out the window watching the hail quickly pile up on the ground.

As quickly as it began, the hail stopped. The sky opened up to a clear blue expanse and we saw the most beautiful rainbow. We often talk about that day and I was always remember it as a special moment we all experienced together.

Denise Gabbard said...

When my daughter-in-law was pregnant, her doctor told her and my son that according to tests, they were certain that the baby, our first grandchild, had Trisomy 13. A genetic defect that causes many serious deformities, most babies with Trisomy 13 die within the first few weeks after their birth. We were heartbroken for the baby, and our son and his wife. They were young and this was their first child.

Delivery was scheduled for first thing in the morning, and labor was induced around 6 a.m. Several hours later, it became frightfully obvious that the doctors were certain the baby had Trisomy 13, when at least a dozen specialists packed into the delivery room when it was almost time for her to give birth.

My husband and I remembered the little chapel we had seen in the hospital, and went in to beg for our miracle. Later, we found out both of us had prayed to God to take us and let her live. God must have decided she would need her grandparents, and brought her into the world into our arms, perfectly healthy and beautiful!

The doctors seemed very shocked that she was healthy, but my husband and I both call it what it really is—God answered our prayer for a miracle. Erica is bright, sweet, and beautiful, and will be ten this Friday. If we live to be 100, I am sure there will never be a more joyous experience in our lives.

Anonymous said...

my boy was always the smallest kid. one afternoon Kyle (the boy),his dad and an artist friend and I took 3 baseball gloves, a ball and a bat to a park in a " not so good" neighborhood. we met a great group of kids, made teams and played baseball. as we did we all became equals, the old parents, the Asian artist with the long hair, the small brainiac kid, the pudgy Mexican kid etc. we happen to have a camping stove anf hotdogs in the car. after the game where no one kept score we cooked and feasted and we all celebrated the big game. whenever I can't sleep I think about that afternoon years ago.

Valerie Hartman said...

Sunsets and laughing babies, miracles and shooting stars pop to mind first. But the hands-down, top-dog absolute best experiences are the ones I can enjoy over and over whenever I want. And so today my best life experience award goes to the warm smell of homemade chocolate chip cookies right out of the oven. Or maybe it’s the sight of dozens and dozens of fresh cookies cooling on the counter. Or maybe trying to pick up the hot and gooey goodness before it has cooled and savor the sweet flavors in my mouth.

Some bakers pick regular size chocolate chips. That’s okay, I would never complain about chocolate. Most often I make a double batch for sharing and pour in the square chunk chips and the mini-morsel chips so that every bit of every bite has chocolate goodness.

I changed my mind again. I love sharing my cookies and seeing my friends and family gobble them up. They never have time to go stale; they disappear too fast. The simple things make the best experiences. I love a good cookie, don’t you?

Chynna said...

WOW! These are some AMAZING stories/experiences! Jaimie is loving reading them all. Keep them coming! I'll get her to make a comment later on today.

=)

The Write Life said...

"Hi, Donna. This is Laura W. . . . You're daughter is trying to find you."

Stunned, I swallowed. Tears pooled on my eyelids and spilled down my cheeks. I gripped the phone so hard, the beat of my heart pounded in my fingers.

She found me!

Still unable to speak, I exhaled, breathed in, exhaled. Slowly, my heart leapfrogged over the pain, the loss, the sorrow long buried, and in exchange, handsprings of pure joy erupted! She found me!

Five short years ago, the answer to my silent prayer, thirty-five years strong, was answered. One I never imagined would--could--come true, but did. That wish--to find the child I'd never had the privilege to mother or share in her life, as I have with my other four children.

Our first phone call was on her birthday one year later. Thanksgiving Day, November 23. Earlier that day, her younger brother she'd yet to meet had celebrated his birthday as well. He, too, was born on Thanksgiving Day, November 23, seven years later. Coincidence? I think not. Besides, days of Thanksgiving, like unexpected gifts, I cherish and do not question.

Since our first face-to-face (f2f in Adoption Reunions lingo), the day after Christmas that year, we've continued our joyous journey--finally on the same path.

Like that of all parents and their children, our story, our journey is ongoing, and is still being written.

Warren Baldwin said...

Some wonderful stories! Neat contest, Jaimie!

Jolette said...

The Story of Kapunzel.

One very despondent overcast December day I found myself entering a pet store, a place I usually avoided because I didn't like seeing the animals in the small cages. And that is where I first saw him - a soft white adorable bundle of German Shepherd puppy, resembling a miniature polar bear more than anything else. At 8 weeks, he was already 25 lbs., which promised a large dog to come. "Wow," I may have said out loud. A store employee slid up beside me and said, "You can play with him. I'll bring him out and you can go to the play room with him." "Sure, okay," I replied. He brought the white puppy into the play room and put him down. Immediately the feisty puppy began to run throughout the room, investigating each toy, sniffing everything within range. "He likes you," the employee said. The white puppy had barely noticed me. "Do you think so?" I asked.

I wrote a check for, what was for me an astronomical amount of money, almost $1,200. We left the store together and my life was forever changed.

I named him Kapunzel and although many people did not like the name, and even begged me to change it, he stayed Kapunzel as he grew to a big and beautiful 120 lbs.

It seemed that once Kapunzel moved in with me, I began to notice stray dogs everywhere. In fact, he and I seemed to become a magnet for dogs who needed help. Within a couple of years I opened a nonprofit animal rescue organization, leaving my job as a massage therapist. Over the next decade, Kapunzel and I opened our doors to hundreds of helpless needy dogs, providing a home for them while soliciting funding for medical care and ultimately adopting them into new homes. As I learned more about the plight of all the homeless animals,I became a firm believer of adoption and not purchasing from pet stores. Though, of course, my precious Kapunzel had come from a pet store.

We grew older. My Kapunzel, who constantly placed his huge legs into my lap wanting me to tickle them. Who would look at me with his big brown eyes, the eyes I knew so very well that I could tell what he wanted with just a glance. Then one day I noticed a lump on his ankle. It would be diagnosed as bone cancer. The veterinarian told me that to save him and allow him to live longer, he needed to have his leg amputated. I made the appointment. For the next few days, before the amputation, I would turn around to see Kapunzel looking at me......differently. As if he knew something. Each time, I would drop anything I was doing, go to him and wrap my arms around his neck and tell him what a special angel boy he was and how much I loved him. He would break into a huge grin, as he had every time I'd called him my angel boy over the last 11 years. He was one week from turning 12.

Kapunzel never came home from surgery. He died after having his leg amputated. I wanted to go with him. It took many months before I could talk easily about him, my wonderful friend.

My work with homeless dogs continued for a few more years and then I went back to school, enrolling into a veterinary technician program. I will graduate this coming fall. I think of Kapunzel often, and I thank him for being such a good friend, for teaching me and for enriching and enlightening my world. His name is now tattooed on my right ankle, in flowing script. I will always carry him with me. My special boy.
Posted by Jolette at 9:00 PM 0 comments

Chynna said...

Jolette, what an amazing story. Brought tears to my eyes. Thanks so much for sharing.

<3

Jolette said...

Hi Chynna and Jaimie,
sorry to leave a story past the deadline....oops. I just joined your blog, The Gift....

Thanks for the nice comment about my Kapunzel story....

Jolette

Chynna said...

Hi Jolette! Don't worry about it. Even if it was late, we still loved reading it. We'll be hosting another contest soon so stay tuned, okay?

Chynna

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