Wednesday, November 25, 2009


Today I am posting a poem written by Camille for school this week. She said the assignment was to write a Thanksgiving story, but as she started, it began to rhyme. :) I love that it is accidentally a poem. :) It is illustrated by this good looking turkey, colored and cut out by Ethan in kindergarten.
Happy Thanksgiving from me too. It is one of my favorite holidays.

It was almost Thanksgiving,
and sweet thoughts were near,
to have fun with your loved ones
and friends who are dear.
I think that Thanksgiving
is a time to give thanks,
Not a time to be rude or do
rude little pranks,
A time to show loved ones
that always you care.
Not a time to fuss about
clothing or hair.
A time to tell stories
to listen, to learn.
A time to forget
a time not to yearn.
A time to be merry,
be thankful, be giving.
A time to be glad that
we all are living.
A time to be glad
that we live on this Earth,
And multiply more
with each child's birth.
A time to remember
the good times we've had,
And forget all your worries
and times that were bad.
Now friends, I say this to you
with a great deal of care,
Do not think about shopping
or clothing or hair.
Have a jolly Thanksgiving
be happy, be merry.
Have fun with your friends
Bob, Shane, Dick, or Larry.
And even if your friends
don't own just these names
have fun and leave thanks
that always remains.

Miriam is looking forward to singing "All I want for Christmas is my Two Front Teeth", but she really needs three! The tooth fairy just wants a break. :)

Friday, November 13, 2009


My kids love to drive to Idaho, because they know that on the wide open interstate up north, if they are lucky, they can get the semi-drivers to honk for them. When ever we go to pass a semi, Seth will shout, "Get your honkers up!" This is the signal for everyone to put their arm in the air and pump it up and down in front of the windows to see if they will be lucky this time. They hate it when the drivers aren't paying attention, or if they are talking on a cell phone. They scream and wave ecstatically for any driver who graces us with a big HONK!!!!

Most of my kids understand that here in the city, the truckers don't use their horns unless they need to. Seth does not. Today we were driving to the elementary school to drop Ethan off for kindergarten. We drove up behind a big Walmart truck, and Seth yelled for the honkers. Ethan tried to explain about the futility of the effort by saying, "Seth we don't honk here. This is America, and in America, we don't honk!" :) I thought all of you still using your horns out there should know.

Wednesday, November 4, 2009

What you don't know....

I hide things. All the time. I never dreamed being a mom was such a sneaky business. But it is. It could be that it is just me, I used to hide things as a teenager too, but then, it was for the same reason: I was the oldest, and there were children around.

I hide chocolate. I hide cookies. I hide granola bars, juice boxes and any thing else likely to be wanted for a specific purpose at a later date. It has become very hard to hide food from Jacob. My instinct is to put things up. But he is taller than I am, driven by insatiable hunger, and practiced. He has been finding what I hide for 15 years now.

I hide shock and surprise, disappointment and pain as needed.

I hide very little from Leslie, because she is an observant child, and it is almost impossible to accomplish.

I hide nothing from Nathan because it is unnecessary. He doesn't look for things. He thinks I hide things, but this is confusion, he just doesn't know where it goes.

I hide the TV cable when I think we have had enough for a while.

I hide Christmas and birthday gifts, and sometimes the wrapping paper for the gifts, so it will still exist when it is time to wrap presents. Small boys are drawn to wrapping paper rolls, they like to unroll and destroy the paper, and the gravy is playing swords with the cardboard tube.

I hide vegetables in my baking.

I hide things in my closet and my drawers. If you are one of my children, caught in my closet, you are dead meat, pounded with a mallet.

I hide the clothes kids have grown out of, but will be mad that they need to go to a new home. I take them out of the wash each time I fold clothes. I hide this from the children too. They do not know there is a pile named Confiscate.

I hide matches. I have four boys descended from a long line of pyromania.

Sometimes, I hide myself, in my room with the door locked, for a few minutes of quiet.

There are troubles with hiding things. One, is that around Christmas time, I can't find the clothes in my closet. Two, is the older I get, the more forgetful, and the more I have to hide surprise when I find something I forgot I had hidden. Three, is I am tired of this. At some point, I may give up on the mysteries. I may just buy you a gift, and hand it to you, what ever day I get it, and instruct you to remember what it is for and when. I may just open up and tell you when you've blown it, whatever the ramifications. I may learn to live in the moment so much, that I will never plan for a future meal or treat again, and just let them eat all 8 boxes of pop tarts, the minute I walk in from the grocery store. But I haven't done it yet.

My children are affected by this. If you find they grow up to be spies and detectives, you will know where the blame lies. They should be pretty good at it though. Wheedling into mom's secrets for years should be good practice.