Happy Birthday Poem

My mother's birthday was yesterday, so I wrote her a poem.

I'm kind of embarrassed to post it, though. I set out to compose an ode in the grand tradition of my family, which generally contains lines like:

I'm sure glad you're my mother
Because you wouldn't be if I'd been born to another.

But I completely lost my head and ended up with something that:

1. Has no meter or rhyme
2. Is kind of a serious effort

My apologies, Mom. I'll try not to work as hard on it next year. Hope this entertains you meanwhile.

An Ideal Mother

Question:

When you were growing up,

Did your mother bake cookies?

Did she take you to a salon for a mother-daughter “spa day”?

Did she plan fun, creative activities for you?

Lucky! You must have had an ideal mother.

Answer:
Yes!

She baked cookies!

Only, it wasn’t cookies, it was food. Cooked from scratch, every day. Rice and gravy, barbecue chicken, potato salad (served warm!), red beans and rice, field peas and butterbeans, pork chops, corn on the cob, meatloaf. Cookies? Pfft, she just bought those.

She took me to a salon for a mother-daughter “spa day”!

Except not really to a salon so much. She didn’t care much about facials and manicures. Planting roses, chopping wood, and refinishing furniture does a number on painted fingernails. No, we left the Scrabble game set up all the time and played a lot. And she gave me books that she’d really liked. And we sat together and talked a lot. Spa days? That would have interfered with our visiting.

She planned fun and creative activities for me!

Or, rather, she left me alone to read, play the computer, ride my bike, swim in the creek, make up stories. That was fun. When I told her about what I was thinking of, she had lots of ideas and suggestions and laughed at my jokes. That helped me be creative. She was always there when I needed her, and not in the way when I needed time to myself.  Plan my activities? Where’s the fun in that?

 

Why, yes, I did have an ideal mother.

Thanks for noticing.

I love you, Mom! Happy Birthday!

-- SJ

Eleven Years - A Good Start

Eleven years ago, I married my best friend. She is still my greatest treasure. We sat in bed tonight reading emails that we had exchanged in the month before we were married, and were pleasantly surprised at how little our feelings and attitudes have changed. It is a constant joy to me to be married to Sara.

Sad
When we're
Apart or
Too busy with
Life and job and kids
To talk, but
Together
Life's a
Joy.

--DJ

Eleven Years

1. Who
2. Would I
3. Be without
4. You? Who would you
5. Be apart from me?
6. Less love, less fun, less faith.
7. So let's stick together.
8. Let's make more faith, more fun, more love.
9. We've spent eleven years together.
10. Another eleven will be a
11. Good start on the journey to eternity.


Darren's gift to me was a commissioned painting by Rachel Estrada.
My gift to him was a tote bag with artwork from his favorite Christian artist.

I love you! You love me! We love each other! Happy anniversary, sweetheart.

-- SJ

Birth Story Haikus

If you read the subject title three or four times, thinking, "Whaaa...?!" while your flight instinct kicks in, probably this doesn't qualify as "fun" for you. You may be excused.

As a mother, I am interested in others' birth stories, and I like telling mine. I can't help it. Giving birth was an event that changed me and introduced me to a brand-new person... on four different occasions. You just don't shrug something like that off.

As a writer, I'm all for well-edited stories. Birth stories can go on entirely too long, with entirely too much detail. There's also no natural stopping place: once you've finished the first birth story, you can't help but move to the second. And third. And beyond.

Conversion Diary offers a balance between the mother and the writer: birth stories in haiku. (Syllable count is 5-7-5, if you need reminding.) This way you can capture the highlights of each birth and still have friends after you're done.

Here are my four. Possibly too much information for some, but I did try to keep it readable:

Baby #1
Married for nine months.
First labor’s always long, right?
Four and a half hours!

Baby #2
This one will be fast!
Oops, sunny-side-up baby.
Twelve hours and section.

Baby #3
All set for VBAC
Midwife feels baby’s bottom
Breech! Section again.

Baby #4
Scheduled c-section
Peaceful, joking with doctors.
Three happy siblings.

-- SJ

Please! You do it too! (And dads can contribute too. I think I'll get Darren to compose an ode to the poison ivy on his hands, right where I was squeezing during Baby #1.)

The Joneses Go North, Part 1

It had been six years since we were last in Nova Scotia, so a trip north was in order.

(If I had read that sentence anytime before November 1999, I'd have thought, "It's been twenty-two years since I was last in Nova Scotia, and who cares?" There's a lot more to my life since Darren became part of it.)

We actually fit two trips into one -- which, by the way, I highly recommend doing if you enjoy packing, repacking, shipping a box of clothes up ahead of you, shuffling, driving, repacking, gambling on the weather, and living out of backpacks for ten days. We gathered with all of Darren's immediate family and some of his extended family in Maine. Then we drove across the Canadian border, stayed with his parents, and visited his grandparents.

Then we came home.

The trip home took a total of twenty-one hours (split into two days), so I gave that line its own paragraph.

This time we tried something new: we took the train from D.C. to Boston:

Boarded and ready to roll.

We are now officially Train People. It costs about the same as flying, but it's half the hassle. Technically it takes longer, yes, but you can read a book, stretch your legs, take a nap, or shift in your seat without violating four other people's personal space. And there's so much to look at outside! Even the industrial areas of cities is more interesting than clouds. I now see why my mom always takes the train up to see us.

Happily speeding along the tracks.

(From Boston to Portland, we took the bus. That was far less enchanting and I didn't take any pictures.)

In Maine, we stayed at Shiloh. For Darren's side of the family, that's all you have to say. For the rest of the world, "Shiloh" needs more explanation. Shiloh is a large, rambling building built in 1897 (96? 98? Sometime around then). Its most distinctive feature is the square tower with a crown on top. (Here are some pictures of Shiloh as it was in the past. Now only the front building remains.)

It was built as a church and a missionary school, so as you climb the narrow spiral staircases, you keep happening upon bedrooms. Those bedrooms open into more bedrooms, and you look around the corner and find yet more bedrooms. I was delighted with Shiloh the first time I saw it, and our kids certainly weren't disappointed either. The cousins got to choose their own rooms, and four of them (Tucker, Jack, Stuart, and Daphne) liked the idea of dorm life:

The Cousin Dorm


While in Maine, we started out for the zoo but got rained out. So we went to the Children's Museum of Maine instead. It was an acceptable substitute:

Chloe looking at the honey bees. Phillip is in the background. We didn't have to say "No, don't touch that!" at this museum.


Tucker dressed as a firefighter! His hands are, anyway.

Stuart obligingly smiling for the camera. Note the long sleeves. It was, after all, only June. (A little Southern sarcasm there.)

Phillip in the toddler playground, a fun and stimulating enclosed area that kept him amused for about six minutes.


Also while in Maine, everyone went to Uncle Rick and Aunt Kath's place on the lake. I don't have pictures because "everyone" doesn't include Darren, me, or Pip. Travel-weary (and fighting a cold, in Darren's case), we stayed at Shiloh. We were grateful for family who allowed our older three to enjoy kayaking, boat rides, and fishing despite our exhaustion.

I don't have pictures, but I do have a haiku from the last time we visited Uncle Rick and Aunt Kath, in 2004:

Life Is Bitter: A Poem in Haiku
Inspired by Addie Jones

I stand on the shore
As they sail away from me.
My tears stream freely.

They would not take me
They said there was no more room.
But Jed got to go.

Ah, life is bitter,
For I wanted to be there,
In the boat with them.

I stand on the shore
As they sail away from me.
I see Jed waving.

(This time, not only did all the cousins get to go out a couple of times, but they all got to steer the boat.)

More to come...

To My Mother

Here's a Mother's Day poem to my mother, who doesn't deserve it. No, really, I think you'll agree that there aren't many people who deserve a poem like this. But I promised her a poem, and I figure she knew what to expect.

Please note the sophisticated rhyme scheme. Thank you.

Mom

Mom, you’re great.

You made sure I ate

The good food you cooked each day.

Although I usually ate Cap’n Crunch instead.

Everything of mine you read,

You’d edit

As you read it

With a black pen.

I still remember when

You would take me shopping

And never put me on the chopping

Block although I deserved it.

You don’t care much to observe it

But it is Mother’s Day

So I'm writing to say

Thank you.


I love you!!


-- SJ (certainly not DJ, whose poetry is of much higher quality)

Romance and Toddlers

Cleaning out his old emails, Darren found one I wrote him in 2003. We had two toddlers at the time. Addie's idea of playing was to dump water onto the carpet and stomp in it, or to insist that her blocks be stacked EXACTLY THE RIGHT WAY. Stuart routinely got into our loose change and scattered coins across the carpet. Both woke up entirely too early every morning, happy to greet the day.

It was an intense time of parenting. But we still managed to keep our romance alive:

From: Sara
To: Darren
Subject: For my husband...


How do I love you?
How can I tell you?

The breadth of my love is as toys,
Spread 'round upon the carpet,
Everpresent.
Thus is my love for you.

The height of my love is as alphabet blocks,
Stacked one upon another,
Unvarying.
Thus is my love for you.

The depth of my love is as water,
Poured out day by day on the floor,
Neverending.
Thus is my love for you.

My love is eager,
As one laughing at dawn.
My love is joyful,
As one dancing upon coins.

As numerous as Cheerios,
Are my grateful thanks that you are mine.

-- SJ

7 Quick Takes, April 15, 2011

Jennifer at Conversion Diary, who hosts 7 Quick Takes, has some pretty funny ones today. Go see them!

1. Palm Sunday is coming. Our pastor describes it as a "schizophrenic service." We start off with a joyous parade waving palm branches, and then the rest of the service is focused on the crucifixion. Prayer would be appreciated, as I'm preaching. Fr. Tim asked me to, saying, "We really need a good, precise and short sermon and I know you can do this." Well, I can do the short, anyway :)

2. For Lent, I gave up fiction reading. I am really looking forward to Easter - I have a list of books all ready to go :) However, it has been good to read outside my standard fantasy/theology mix. I just finished a book about a fascinating man named Ibn Battuta. Ibn Battuta was a Muslim traveler during the 1300s who was born in northwest Africa. He went on hajj to Mecca in his early 20s and didn't come home for almost 30 years. He traveled across north Africa, Syria, Turkey, southern Russia, Arabia, Irag, India, and some into China, and then came home and wrote a book about it. The book about him was interesting, but now I want to find the original and hear from Ibn Battuta himself.

3. Peter Jackson is making "The Hobbit" into a movie. Well, two movies actually. This is good! The video he released yesterday is a great look into the beginning of filming. I can't wait!!

4. The Los Angeles City Council is hosting a public hearing on their daytime curfew next Monday, and I'm going out to testify against it and present the perspective of homeschoolers (two of home we're representing in a lawsuit due to their unlawful arrest under the curfew).

5. A haiku written as a text message from church Tuesday night, waiting to see if anyone would show up for Stations of the Cross:

Looking out at rain
Falling down on pear blossoms.
No one is coming.

6. Daphne likes cheese pizza with no pepperoni. Stuart likes lots of pepperoni. So yesterday for lunch, Sara got a pizza with half cheese and half pepperoni. She handed out the first slice to everyone, but then focused on Phillip. So when it came time for seconds, Daphne grabbed a pepperoni slice and began carefully removing every last vestige of meat.

Sara: Daphne, why don't you just take the cheese piece?! That's why I got it half and half.
Stuart, in a helpful whine: Yeah, Daphne, why did you do that?
Sara: Stuart, you're not one to talk. You're holding a cheese piece.
Stuart: Oh.

7. I have a hot date tonight. Hurray for babysitters! Hurray for friend-of-wife-since-6th-grade who sent money to make it possible!!

--DJ

Random Stuff from Darren

1. I can't wait for the Deathly Hallows! (Click here for trailer) Sara doesn't like them as much as I do, but I've liked all of them so far. I hope Bellatrix features prominently in it; Carter makes her absolutely chillingly, madly evil.

2. I'm going to have a radio interview next Monday and an Internet TV show interview on Thursday. That should be fun.

3. I watched "This Gun for Hire" last night. Sara caught the tail end of it and said, "That kind of movie has been cliched to death. The whole thing is just cliches." Which was a good description of it. It's a 1942 film noir, and it was okay, but nothing special. Veronica Lake was beautiful, and I LOVE the actors' hats and overcoats.

4. My wonderful legal assistant (who is deserting me to go to law school) has been lending me Seasons 1 and 2 of Burn Notice. I loved it! Cool settings, neat explosions, twisty plots - it's all good.

5. A poem that I wrote a few months ago that's been hanging around my desk:
White to green. Bare limbs
Covered, covered limbs become
Bare. Ah. I love Spring.

6. We're going to be doing "My Savior, My God" this Sunday at church. The words for the verses are great, the chorus is mediocre. I found out while doing research on it that the verses were actually written in 1873. No wonder I like it - it's old :) But the new music is far superior to the old tune, which is very boring.

And that's all.

Poems

--DJ

This one was written after returning from the Alaska homeschool conference, which is fun but a very long way from home.

Sara suggested the format, which is syllable-count based. I'm sure there's some technical word for it, but I just think of it as short-growing-shrinking.

Each stanza is one day.

I.
Rise
Early
Read Kindle
Hours upon hours
Admire cold beauty
Dumb slow drivers
Great food, late
TV
Sleep

II.
Arise
Too early
Breakfast - too much
Setup's excitement
Talking, selling, waiting
Sitting, hurting feet
Texting Sara
Watch time slow
Downtime

III.
Pack
Check out
Renewal!
Member! Member!
Long speech in hot room
(Thought this was Alaska)
Telling friends goodbye
Packing suitcase
Missing wife
Flying
Home

Fruit of an Incentive

As part of a work mental wellness initiative, I am working on writing a poem every week for the next few months. I was pretty happy with how this first one turned out. I think it works better read aloud, since it's alliterative.

"Holy Saturday"

Today, the earth stands silent.

Gone the grief of yesterday,
Or rather, say not gone, but paused:
Spent by sadness, women wait;
Friends who faltered breathe deep after weeping:
Weeping will last the night, and joy unlooked-for comes tomorrow,
But today, the earth stands silent.

Not so Hades.
From out its iron gates sound forth
The sound of weapons never before wielded by man,
Weapons strong against strongholds.
Now Man makes mockery of the ancient foe,
Whose scornful challenge, “Who is this king of glory?”
Is cast back in iron teeth: “The Lord, mighty in battle.”
Hell harrowed, sinners saved by sinless Sin.

Bordered by sadness and joy,
Filled with quiet and quiescent triumph,
Today, the earth stands silent.

--DJ

A Rare Post from Darren

I've enjoyed reading Sara's posts (big surprise there, eh?) about church. As Kelly said, I've appreciated her willingness to "look a little un-put-together."

I don't share the dislike of church with Sara. My mom recently described my dad as loving church on “Sundays and Sunday nights and Bible studies and prayer meetings and choir practices and board meetings and deacons' meetings and music nights and praise & prayer services and whatever else is offered 8 nights a week.” That pretty much describes me too.

However, Sara is much more comfortable with the spontaneous working of the Holy Spirit than I am. Far more. I realized several months ago during a conversation with Sara that the images of the Spirit in Scripture – fire, water, wind – are images that I am uncomfortable because of their fluid power. My mom has said many times that she loves the Holy Spirit. I tend to try to avoid Him.

So here’s a short description of my feelings on the matter.

Hymn to the Holy Spirit

I fear Thee, O multi-splendoured Spirit,

For my aspect is Earth.

But Thou art Fire

and Water

and Wind.

All of which dance.

The licking flames, the rushing flood, and the mighty gale are infamously injurious to dirt’s dignity.

Yet dirt alone cannot live.

So breathe life in my hard clay.

Bathe me in Thine ocean’s swells.

Fire me in the kiln of Thy desire.

Above all, teach this clump of dirt to dance.

--DJ

Poetry

I got a workbook for the kids on writing poetry, so decided to give it a shot yesterday. We started with couplets (rhyming two lines). Addie was so inspired, she stapled two pages together and laboriously titled it, "Fifty Poems for the Bedtime Hour" (a plagiarized title). While I was brainstorming "bedtime" words, she was working on the Table of Contents. At least she has ambition, if not a natural knack for meter. Her first poem, where she rhymed my starting line, is:

"It's time to go to bed,
So brush your teeth and wait till morning to be fed."

Today was cinquains, a structured poem with one word, two words, three words four words, one word. I offered suggestions, but let Addie do the thinking. Her best was:

Rain
Cats, dogs
Can't smell it
Pattering on my roof
Hard

Stuart refused to be drawn in. His sole contribution was:

"Lightning
is frightening."

-- SJ

Haiku Art by Stuart

("Haiku by Stu" sounds better, but we've never called him Stu and I don't want to encourage the world to do so)

Stuart has grasped the concept of syllables, even if he does usually call them "symbols." Being the Good Homeschool Mama, I explained how to construct a haiku, and we sat down and wrote these together. Stuart would rattle off a suggestion, we'd count the syllables. He unfortunately was more impressed the more syllables he came up with, but he'd help me reword it so he liked it. Sometimes he got it right all by himself. It was probably accident, but I pretend to think otherwise.

In order to fully grasp the deep and subtle meanings of the first two poems, you've got to be familiar with the computer game "Bookworm Adventure." The last one refers to a community fun day in town.

Haiku #1: Circe
Circe was not nice.
Lex killed Circe with a WHOMPED!
She fell down on dirt.

Haiku #2: Lex
Lex is a good guy.
He spells to defeat bad guys.
He WHOMPS and CRUSHES.

Haiku #3: Friends
Stuart has some friends.
One friend is Prometheus.
He stomps a lot, too. [Stuart added the "too" to make up the fifth syllable.]

Haiku #4: Fun
Fun at Doo-Dah Day
We got to meet Spider-man!
Our cheeks got painted.

-- SJ and SMJ

Sky

Reptilian clouds
Bumpy, warty lines of grey
With pale blue background.

Sometimes the sky is beautiful. Sometimes it just looks strange.

--DJ

Is God a Hippie?

Evidently God
Is in divine ‘Sixties mood -
Tie-dyed cloud above.

Last night on the way home from the Christian bookstore, where Sara and I had drooled over pre-school Bible studies, we saw a small cloud up to the right of the setting sun. The end away from the sun was a brilliant rainbow. It looked like it had been tie-dyed. It also looked like a colorful version of the Christmas cookies that have one end dipped in chocolate. I’d never seen something like that before. -- DJ

Life Is Bitter: A Poem in Haiku

Since our poetry was so well-received, I thought I'd post another that came about during our weekend on the lake. This work is a child's cry of realization of the sting of life.

Life Is Bitter: A Poem in Haiku
Inspired by Addie Jones

I stand on the shore
As they sail away from me.
My tears stream freely.

They would not take me
They said there was no more room.
But Jed got to go.

Ah, life is bitter,
For I wanted to be there,
In the boat with them.

I stand on the shore
As they sail away from me.
I see Jed waving.

Another Early Morning Haiku

Cozy in the bed,
Turning over to snuggle.
Hey, wait, where's husband?

Darren and I will be in trouble if the Rapture occurs too early in the morning. -- SJ

Early Morning Haiku

Cresting the mountain
Rose, yellow, and dusky blue.
Behind me, still dark.

I am not a morning person. Blah to early mornings!

--DJ