151. Birthday Toys

Two flying men

One with wings, one with hands

Going around 

Fighting bad men in bands

Who can stop them

They fight side by side

Two little toys

Make my son smile wide

150. Buried

Buried in sand

Buried alive

Buried the memories

Buried the lies

Buried the fear

And the sorrow, too.

Buried is all of me,

Now time for you.

149. Beach

Water and sand and seagulls and kelp

These are the things of the beach

The sun in the sky and clouds do help

Keep the sun of my kids one and each

148.Father Is Watching

My little child so noble and strong

Why are you crying? The night is not long.

Your father is watching you hour by hour.

He will protect with his mighty power.

Father is listening; He hears your prayers.

Tell him your worries: tell him your fears. 

Sleep, child, sleep now. Find peace in your dreams.

Darkness will dwindle with sun's first bright beams.

147. Speaking Like A Man

Today while unloading the dishwashers Thomas asked for help finding his shoes. I told him I needed to finish what I was doing. His response was "I hep you finis de disses, and den you hep me find my saddals?" He then proceeded to help me unload the dishwasher and put away the silverware while I reloaded, asking me for help with a few pieces whose locations he wasn't sure of. After which we went upstairs together and found his sandals so he could go watch his dad mow the lawn. It was a sweet few minutes for us, but what really made my heart glad was that one little sentence. 

Except it wasn't a little sentence. It is actually quite a big sentence. There are multiple clauses, if-then correlation, sequencing, tonal fluctuations, two subjects, fourteen words. A year ago, he had about ten sounds that had attached meaning. I couldn't even call most of them "words" because "ba" meant ball, bath, baby, water, up, etc. 

we had him evaluated to see if he qualified for speech therapy with Early Childhood intervention, and at 24 months old he had the communication skills of a 14 month old. At 26 months he began working with a wonderful speech therapist. And now, a few days before his third birthday, he is speaking in complex sentences. I have seen him progress throughout this year, heard his rapid growth, but it wasn't until that sentence today that I truly realized just how far he has come.

 I am grateful for the dedication and love from his speech therapist who worked with him, encouraged him, and gave the interest and confidence in speaking that I could not muster. Even though Thomas no longer receives her services, she will always be a huge part of his development. Without her help, he would be a different child. 

I love listening to his sweet little voice, watching his mouth trying to form unfamiliar words and sounds. He still has trouble often pronouncing things perfectly, but he is now mostly intelligible. And there are times when I just have no earthly idea what he is trying to tell me, but generally he is able to show me what he is trying to say and we work on new words or better pronunciation. He is excited to learn new words and tries hard to be understood, whereas a year ago, he just didn't seem to care. 

I am so grateful for the amazing progress that he has made. It has been wonderful to realize this growth in my little boy.

146. Jessa And The Beanstalk (11)

"Why are you following me?" I yelled at him. "How could you do this?"

Walter put his hands up in the air, warding off my temper. "Calm down, Jess! I was curious. I just wanted to know where you disappear to all the time. You don't have to get mad at me." 

But I was mad. I was furious. My cloud kingdom was my life and he had made it disappear. I didn't know how the magic worked. Was it gone forever? Could I plant another? I began to scramble at the dirt, determined to find the other brand and create a new pathway to the sky. 

"Jessa, what is going on? What you doing? Look at me!" He yelled. I hadn't realized he had approached me until he grabbed my hand pulled me toward him. But I didn't look at him. As soon as I looked up I cried out with joy, for my beanstalk was back. Right behind him. Right where it was supposed to be.

Walter cocked an eyebrow at me like I was crazy. I probably seemed like it. Yelling and weeping one moment and crying out exultantly the next. But I didn't care. It was back. I was not cut off from my joy. 

Unable to contain my relief, I wrapped Walter in an ecstatic hug. "Oh Walter, isn't it beautiful?" I cried. He looked over his shoulder, but clearly had no idea what I was talking about.

"Umm...are you feeling well?" He asked me uncertainly, putting his hand to my forehead. 

I laughed again and told him I had never been happier. But I was also curious. I wanted to know how the magic of the beanstalk worked. I had never shared my treasured sky-ladder and so never thought how it might react to another person. I knew no one could see it from afar, but now I began to question the workings of the magic.

145. Jessa and the Beanstalk (10)

I knew I couldn't climb fast enough to get out of sight, so I hid myself behind the giant beanstalk. It was huge, definitely wide enough to hide my skinny frame. I crouched low, next to the boulder that hid my extra beans, and waited for the intruder to pass. He didn't.

"What are you doing, Jessa?" I heard Walter's voice and crouched lower. "Closing your eyes isn't going to make me go away." How did he know I had just closed my eyes? He was nothing special, surely. I stood slowly and waited for another signal, still not coming out from my hiding spot. "You're just going to ignore me? Pretend I'm not here? I know I'm not as handsome as Wesley, but geez, you don't have to look right through me."

"You can see me?" I asked quietly.

He scoffed. "I'm not blind."

I couldn't believe it. Standing between us was a plant so wide around that we couldn't touch fingers if we both tried to hug it, and yet, he could see right through it. He could see me, but I could not see him. How was it possible? 

I put my hand gingerly onto the beanstalk, afraid it might only be in my imagination. Surely I wasn't crazy. I had climbed this time and time again. It was solid under my palm, smooth to my fingertips, the winding tendrils tickling my outstretched arm. It was real.

Then suddenly it vanished and Walter was in its place, edging toward me like I was insane. Surprised by his sudden appearance, I let out a small scream, enough to halt his steps.

"I'm not going to hurt you, Jessa. What are you staring at?" He reached for my still outstretched hand, turning my palm upward so he could study it.

"But...you just..." I couldn't make out a clear sentence, I was so angry. He just destroyed my pathway to freedom. It was gone.

144. Jessa and the Beanstalk (9)

Without a second thought I bolted for the fields, ready to make my escape. I tore through the rows of corn surrounding me, swimming through a sea of green, the tether to my hidden world guiding my way. I knew once I reached it I would be free to live again. No more mundane village-life for me. The sky called.

Finally I burst forth from the forest of corn. I stood still, awed at the beauty only I could see. But the rustling of cornstalks continued behind me. Someone was there, running the same trail I had just blazed.

143.The Trouble with Lengthy Locks

As I was washing Janie's hair today I kept getting frustrated because her hair is so long that the ends hang in the soapy water while I'm rinsing. I couldn't help but wonder how the witch in the story of Rapunzel managed to keep that child's hair clean. I mean, sure, Rapunzel didn't go running around outside in the baking sun, scurrying through bushes, getting leaves and grass in her hair. But she probably went through that messy-eating phase. Every kid has it. Imagine trying to wash spaghetti sauce out of three feet of hair! That would be a nightmare! 

And chewing gum. Ugh. What does the witch do about that? You cut out the gum and then what? Have a Rogue stripe? (This only applies to Disney's telling, I guess).

And for another matter, how did Rapunzel ever learn how to crawl and/or walk with a fountain of hair spilling around her little baby knees? Berto can barely get around when he's got shorts on, let alone trying to coordinate limbs around a mass of slippery strands that pull at your scalp when tugged. Yikes! 

Also, shedding. Now, if Rapunzel is anything like me, she'd have tons of stray hairs just lying around the tower. Enough to weave into an actual rope so she wouldn't need to damage that pretty scalp of hers every time her witch-Mom comes home! Or maybe she uses it to make rugs? Blankets? Clothes?

And now that I'm thinking about it, what do her legs look like? Oy! Maybe she lucked out and all her hair-growing-hormones focused on her head and that's why her hair is so long? She's hairless everywhere else? Or not...I'm imagining Mandy Moore as a yak right now. Awkward.

Logistical questions: 

-Does she only have clothing that buttons or that she can slip on over her hips? 

-How many gallons of shampoo does she go through per week?

How often did the witch have to use the back door because Rapunzel got her hair too tangled up when she was dancing and had to sit there waiting for the witch two feet away from the window because she was stuck?

-Lice.

-Is hair-washing day also mopping day?

-At the end of the story, Rapunzels long locks get lopped off. Would she then have to relearn how to walk, without having to compensate for who-knows-how-many pounds or hair? 

I suppose the simple answer to pretty much all of these questions is "magic," but that's just boring.

142. Weathered

The world is my weapon

Why wander your way

When whatsoever you wish 

Will willingly weave its weathered day

141."I'm Trying To Be Like Jesus" v3

I'm trying to be like Jesus.

I'm choosing the right each day.

I want to be faithful always 

To live in a righteous way

My heart fills with gladness each time I do good

I know what I'm doing is pleasing the Lord

He says "Love one another as I so love you. 

Try to show kindness in all that you do.

Be gentle and loving in deed and in thought, for these are the things that I taught."

140. Rainstorms

Rainstorms and wind

Beat at the window panes 

Lightly they drum

Crashing they fall

Igniting the sky with charged particles

Fresh

139. Socks

One sock, Two socks

Red socks, Blue socks

Polka dotted striped socks

Yellow, black and white socks

Socks with words and socks with clocks

Socks with owls, socks with blocks

Socks with smiles, socks with frowns

Socks with greens and tans and browns

Socks with flags and socks with fairies

Socks with lips and socks with berries

Socks with flowers, blooms and buds

Socks with thick and foamy suds

Socks that come up to my knee

Socks that let my toes hang free

Socks with princesses or trucks

Socks that tell the haters naughty words(Patrick!)

I love socks upon my feet

Too bad for this Texas heat.

138. The Questions That Make Us Question

If you're a parent you know you have asked some bizarre questions or said odd things. Logic is not innate in humans. You may have found yourself telling your child not to lick the supermarket floor or asking them how they managed to get their belt loop stuck on the rim of the basketball hoop. You may have found yourself trying not to laugh as you explain that if they stop pinching their arm, it won't hurt anymore. (And yes, these are all true stories.)

But I have come to find that with each successive child I have had, I have asked simpler and fewer questions. Perhaps this is because I'm getting lazier as a parent or I'm just getting used to finding my kids doing odd things. I don't think it's that my boys are any less experimental -- that being said, neither of them has electrocuted themselves yet, whereas Janie managed that before she could crawl. I think mostly I've just gotten used to the unconventional behavior that accompanies mini-humans. For instance, today I asked Berto "why did you put peanut butter in your ear?" 

Now, had this been my first child the question would have been simply "is that peanut butter in your ear?" But I no longer need to ask such questions. Of course that's peanut butter in his ear. Or in his diaper or between his toes. Even if he hasn't been given peanut butter in the last three days it is probably still peanut butter. And if it isn't? Well, we're just going to pretend it is because sometimes I just don't want to know what that mysterious semi-solid lump hanging into my child's skin is. So it's peanut butter.

Again, had this been my second child the question would have been "how did you get peanut butter in your ear?" I no longer need to ask that either. Without looking, without even being present during mealtime, I can see, smell, and feel that peanut butter was on the menu recently. I could probably even tell you how many meals ago it was. I know that the amount of stowaway spread discovered among the various crevices of my child's body is directly proportionate to the deliciousness of the sandwich being consumed multiplied by tiredness. I know that excitement=messy hands and tired=flailing appendages. There is no mystery now.

And so we come to why. Why did you put peanut butter in your ear, little man? This is not a question I expect an answer to. There is no answer, truly. Intention is limited in a nine-month old. He put it there because he has less coordination than a newborn sea turtle. He put it there because he got distracted by a strange tingling feeling he will one day associate with the word "itch." He put it there because the newly introduced taste of puréed legume causes chaotic reactions on his tastebuds, which overwhelm his still-adjusting nervous system and send his only-recently-mastered hand sensors into a frenzy. He did not mean to put it there. I know this. My question is largely rhetorical, spoken only to express my own humored frustration at having to clean up food from a place in which it has no business residing. I ask it to promote communication skills in my little human's brain. I ask it because something so ludicrous as creamed peanuts caking the membranes of a hearing organ deserves some kind of acknowledgement. 

I suppose if I had a fourth child the question would be "how long does it take peanut butter to solidify enough to fall off on its own?" And a fifth? Would a fifth child even register a question mark? Or merely receive a shoulder shrug? 

For now I continue asking questions that make me question how humans have managed to survive as long as we have. A species whose young habitually put tiny, rigid objects into their equally tiny but less rigid throats or jab themselves in the face with sharp objects should not logically be the dominate species of any landmass. And yet, here we are.

137. Gilead

There is a balm

That soothes the soul

That grips the frightened,

Warms the cold

There is a balm 

That soothes the soul

That mellows heartache

Strengthens old

There is a balm 

That soothes the soul

That welcomes all

Into the fold

136. Snuggle

So I have this baby, hugging me in his sleep. Is there anything better than that? I feel so loved, so needed, so incredibly necessary. This child depends on me in every way. I keep him fed. I keep him hydrated. I keep him clean, sheltered, rested, healthy, happy, safe. I may fail at a lot of things in motherhood every day, but this moment, this sleepy snuggle, reminds me of all the ways in which I succeed. 

135. Wilted

Little do we know

The merry lives we lead

Will one day cover all

The flowers and the weeds

There's nothing more discouraging

Than the wilted or the worn

When once was bright and cheery

But now the death has torn

134. Mother

My children forever

Only you and me

Together for eternity

Helping you through life

Each and every day

Raising you makes me smile 

133. Two-Eyed Tommy: The Perfectly Plain Pirate

Tommy wanted to be a pirate more than anything in the world. But Tommy just didn't fit in with the other pirate boys. He had two working legs, unlike Pegleg Pete. He had two fully functioning and attached hands, unlike Handless Hank. He had a full head of hair, unlike Shinyscalp Stewart. He couldn't swing from the sails like Maniac Mike, or pick up the plank like Muscles Morgan. He didn't have a parrot like Dirty Davey or a pet monkey like Rufus the Ruffian. He had every single one of his teeth, unlike Gap-tooth Gary. His nose was perfectly straight, unlike Crooked Carl. And worst of all, he didn't have a pirate hat. 

But Tommy wanted to be a pirate. He worked hard to make sure his ship was always seaworthy. He tightened his sails and swabbed his decks. He waxed his gangplank and cooled his ropes. He kept his barrels filled with water and biscuits, always ready to sail on a moment's notice. 

Day after day Tommy waited in the pirate ship lineup, hoping to be chosen as the next crew mate. And day after day, he was passed up because he was too plain.

Then, on a hot summer day, as Tommy was wiping down his railings, Tommy was approached by Captain Schnoz, the biggest, toughest, nosiest pirate on the seas. 

"What is that smell, pirate?" Captain Schnoz asked.

Tommy looked around confused. His ship was clean. There was nothing to give off a bad smell. He had washed every surface of his vessel, including the very tip of the bowspirit.

Tommy held out his rag and whispered "lemon oil."

"It's the darned good smellinest ship I ever laid eyes on, laddie." Captain Schnoz clapped Tommy on the back with a massive hand. "How'd ya come ter makin her smell so fresh?"

Tommy grinned up at the big man's nose, the only part of his face he could see. "I cleaned all the dirty spaces I could see. And if I saw something get dirty again, I cleaned it again." 

With a great sniff, Captain Schnoz smiled and asked Tommy's name.

"Just plain Tommy, sir," Tommy said, looking down at his perfectly intact toes.

"Well, Tommy, I've never smelt a better ship in all my long years of sailing. I can smell land before I can see it, but I can also smell each and every moldy plank or rotted fish on every ship I've been on. I want to hire this here ship of yours. My nose has never been so happy."

Tommy was delighted: he was finally going to be a pirate.

"Now Tommy," the great Captain peered down at him over his large beak, "you're going to need a better name than "Just Plain Tommy."

Tommy's shoulders drooped. He couldn't be a pirate without a pirate name. It just wasn't done. But he didn't have any name-worthy features. He was perfectly plain in every way.

"I have just the name," Captain Schnoz said, tapping the side of his capital schnoz. "From now on you will be known as Two-Eyed Tommy, whose use of BOTH eyes keeps his ship clean and his crew happy."

"I'd like that very much, sir," Tommy said, shaking hands with his new Captain.

As the harbor grew small in the distance, Tommy wiped a speck of mud off the railing. He couldn't help but notice the smiles on all the crew's faces. Perhaps there was something to being perfectly plain after all.

132. Back

The past two weeks my husband has been out of the country. It has not been an easy two weeks. I swear my children have been testing me like a pack of velociraptors, prodding my emotional fence for weaknesses. It's not as if they did anything massively horrible: no one ran away in the store or painted their sibling or broke any dishes or furniture. But there were lots and lots and lots of little things. And each day I became a little more frazzled and a little less patient and they became a little more whiney and a little more naughty. 

And then there was the rough sleep. If you know me or follow my motherhood posts, you know how much I depend on naptime and that quiet time to myself between their bedtime and mine. When I don't get a good night's sleep, my patience goes out the proverbial window. My sleep and my niceness are a set. Where one is plentiful, so is the other: Where one is lacking, the other follows suit. It's a cause and effect deal here, and it's real. So of course when I'm already having a rough time (did I mention within the first 24 hours I had a choking 9 month old and a trip to the hospital for chest x-rays? Yeah, good way to start a two-week-alone stint...not) my kids decide that they don't actually need sleep. Why would they want to let me get the rest I need to keep my sanity? That's just ridiculous. In the last two days my kids have napped for less than an hour and a half...total! Normally we get about 2.5-3 hours of napping per day. Add to that the random wake-up-and-wail-for-an-hour party thrown by Berto and the handful of shorter but no less sleep-depriving random midnight cry fests he felt the need to indulge in. Also, my kids woke up at 6:30 this morning. So. Not. Cool. I woke up to them playing in the bathroom, went in to herd them back into bed, and stepped in a puddle. I'm not positive it was pee, but their behavior about it did not assuage my fears. 

Anyway, the point of all of this is to say that God knew what he was doing with marriage. Yes, there's the whole one-provides-one-nurtures benefit, but this week I am convinced that among all the other many many many reasons I love and need my husband, I need him for my mental health. I need that person who will tell me things will be okay, but will understand that I need to get my worry out. I need the man who will give me a hug and comfort me, even though I'm being overly concerned about something. I need the man who knows how much I adore my children, even when I complain about their whining and complaining. I need the man who will make me laugh at finding ten trains under Thomas's pillow. I need the man who will fall asleep next to me, holding my hand, radiating love, comfort, and calm. He has only been home for three hours and already I feel my nerves relaxing. The buzzing energy that has been swirling through my brain for twelve days is finally dying down. I know things will be okay again, because my other half is back.

131. Haiku To Frustrating Children

Grateful for trials

When the moment has ended

Til then, tears abound

130. Haiku to a Woodchuck

Chewing on timber

Chucking it into the air

How much could it chuck

129. Colors

Maroon is murky

Paisley is pale

Turquoise is turbulent

Puce is problematic 

Colors are crazy

Can't you tell?

Which is your favorite?

Which will you sell?

128. Jessa And The Beanstalk (8)

The clouds had been gathering all morning and I was waiting, watching for the moment my exit from my earth-bound drudgery would rise. I sketched lazily in the dirt at my feet, toying with the design of a new waterfall I was hoping to create, and listening to the shrill chatter of the ignorant children surrounding me. Their lives were desperately boring. Lucy and Emma quarreled of a skipping rope. Gerald bragged about his huge heifer that had won at the county fair. I smiled to myself. Anyone could feed a cow. But only I could create one. And I would. I dragged my stick around the pebbles, shaping a cow the size of a house. Gerald's heifer would faint at the sight of mine.

I blinked, and there it was: my beanstalk, a beacon of freedom shining only for me.

127. I Love To See The Temple (v3)

I love to see the temple.

It calms my troubled heart,

Brings peace and reverent feelings

Whenever I take part,

For the temple is a sacred place

Where I can feel the spirit.

In the temple grounds I feel secure.

My soul sings when I'm near it.

126. A Haiku To Clogged Toilets

Bespeckled in muck

Suction undams with gurgles

Mopping avoided 

125. Anatomy of an Alphabet

A is for Anatomy, it's what we'll describe

B is for bones that let you jive

C is for cartilage, your nose has this stuff

D is for diaphragm, it freaks, you hiccough

E is for eardrums that help you hear

F is for fingernails that scratch at your rear

G is for gastrointestinal tract

H is for heart, don't have an attack

I is for infections that make your gut bloat

J is for jugular: go for the throat

K is for kidneys that help you pee right 

L is for lids to close against light

M is for mucus that sits in your nose

N is for neurons that tell you to go

O is for optic, that nerve for your eye

P is for phalanges to point to the sky

Q is for quadriceps: you're buff, I can tell

R is for ribosomes, a part of a cell

S is for sinus, that space in your face

T is for tibia; you need it to race

U is for uvula, dangly and long

V is for villi that push things along

W is for white blood cells fighting off germs

X is for x-ray, to see all these terms

Y is for y-chromosome, the man-making mate

Z is for zygote that Y helped create

124. In Defense of The Butler

Disney does villains well (most of the time). Ursula, Jafar, Scar, Lady Tremaine, The Evil Queen, Cruella de Vil, Maleficent, Frollo, Madame Medusa -- I could go on and on about how fantastically evil these characters are. They are fascinating in their twisted vileness: true beacons of malevolence.

But every once in a while Disney does this thing where they have a not-quite-so-abominable villain. Today's example: Edgar, of The Aristocats.

Now, don't get me wrong; Edgar is not a saint. He does make some pretty bad choices. But I would not label him as evil. He certainly is not in the same class as "The mistress of all evil," "the sea witch," or a woman who wants her step-daughter's heart in a box. In fact, I wouldn't even call him a bad person. He made some selfish decisions, but I would consider that pretty normal. Simba made selfish choices. Ariel's whole story is based on her selfishness. Also, Merida. But that's a topic for another day. 

What Edgar did was wrong, yes. I won't deny that. Stealing an old woman's cats and abandoning them in the countryside is not a nice thing to do. And from the cats' perspectives he is villainous, but what fascinates me about Edgar is how very relatable and not-evil he is. 

The first act of the movie actually sets Edgar up as a rather kind person. He is polite and dedicated to his mistress. It is never said just how long he has served her, but he's been there long enough for her to leave him as the heir of her multi-million dollar estate. He takes care of her pets in abundance, literally bringing them their food on a silver platter. He lets the kittens jump and climb all over him without any complaint whatsoever. He is loving to his horse. When he is confronted with a crazy old lawyer he takes great (literal) pains to make sure the man is safe, comfortable, and at ease. Not only does he laugh along at George's unimaginative jokes for the umpteenth time, but he gives the man a piggyback ride up the rather tall and grand staircase, even after nearly losing his pants, having his suspenders stretched well beyond their limit, and getting hammered by the man's body. Yet he never says an unkind word to George or Madame about his mistreatment. 

When he does decide to get rid of the cats, he is, in my non-cat-loving opinion, rather nice about it. He could have killed them just as easily as drugging them, but he didn't. He provided them shelter and took them out to a farm in the countryside. There is no reason to believe that he would have taken them to the farmhouse or some other country home if he hadn't been attacked by Napoleon and Lafayette. He didn't intentionally dump them on the side of the river -- they fell out of his sidecar as he was fleeing for his life. So though it was unkind and dishonest toward his mistress, he certainly wasn't evil. 

If you were given the opportunity to inherit a multimillion dollar estate and all you had to do was relocate a couple of cats, wouldn't you at least consider it? Would you do it? This is why I love Edgar. He isn't some demonic creature bent on worldwide destruction. He's human. He's just like you or me. Maybe that's what makes his demise so poignant.

123. Poisoning Pigeons in the Park

Pigeons are pesky and pertinent things

They peck at the passersby

Parasites probably present in their perches,

So poison or pop them in the park.

122. Good Mom/Bad Mom

Motherhood is about balancing the good moments with the bad. Some days are fabulous. Other days I cry myself to sleep and wonder how many more days are left before they're all in school. But most days have a bit of both in them. I do awesome-mom things (letting the kids decorate plates however they want) and I do awful-mom things (letting my baby crawl on the kitchen floor when it's not swept). So here's to the mom who tries to make a sandcastle but ends up just making a mud-mountain, and the mom who hearkens to the call of "push my higher" and ends up breaking out the ice pack. 

• Today I was a bad mom because I woke Janie up by being too loud, but I was a good mom because that loudness was caused by a tickle war with Thomas.
• Today I was a good mom because I let Janie have some of my milk, but I was a bad mom because I didn't buy more of her milk before it ran out.
• Today I was a good mom because I let all three kids go with me to Berto's doctor appointment, but I was a bad mom because I wouldn't let Thomas play with the medical supplies.
• Today I was a good mom because I let Janie and Thomas play at a friend's house while I went on a mommy-son date with Berto, but I was a bad mom because that date included pinning him down on a table to get x-rays taken. 
• Today I was a bad mom because I woke Berto up from his car-snooze, but I was a good mom because I held him the whole time we were at the pharmacy.
• Today I was a bad mom for making Janie take a nap, but I was a good mom for letting Thomas and Berto take naps.
• Today I was a good mom for kissing Janie's hurt foot better, but I was a bad mom for making her clean up the toys that she stepped on.
• Today I was a bad mom for making Janie and Thomas play outside, but I was a good mom for turning on the sprinklers. Then I was a bad mom again for not letting them come in soaking wet.
• Today I was a bad mom for not letting Berto join his siblings outside, but I was a good mom for giving him a cracker.
• Today I was a good mom for making pizza-mac-and-cheese and asparagus for dinner. (Yep. Only thing I did absolutely right today.)
• Today I was a good mom for doing the dishes, but I was a bad mom for not letting the boys help me unload the dishwasher.
• Today I was a bad mom for not letting the kids watch more Sophia The First after dinner, but I was a good mom for letting them finish Zookeeper while Berto had a breathing treatment.
• Today I was a good mom for trying to FaceTime all of the cousins, but I was a bad mom because none of them answered.
• Today I was a bad mom for making my kids put on jammies, but I was a good mom for letting them do gymnastics afterwards. 
• Today I was a good mom for reading to them about Jesus, but I was a bad mom for not reading for as long as they wanted. 
• Today I was a good mom for singing songs after scriptures, but I was a bad mom because I sang the wrong words.
• Today I was a bad mom for brushing the tangles out of Janie's hair, but then I was a good mom because I had brushed all the tangles out of her hair.
• Today I was a bad mom for making my kids go to bed, but I was a good mom for giving them lots of hugs and kisses.

121. Musical Chairs

Music playing up and down

Past the river, past the crown

Running by on stilted legs

Bouncing, jogging all the dregs

Could it happen one by one

Where I'm going, tell no one