Monday,Feb 18, 2008
9:48-9:50, 12:30-12:44, 6:28-6:48
My feelings about my friend’s child:
Sweet Pea Natalie,
How can I love you as if you were my own child?
I have never even met you and yet I just want to embrace you,
Wrap you in my arms and whisper that I adore you.
Here is poem I wrote about the frequent sick nights my son has had. . . .
Late Night, Early Morning
The baby has a fever.
He and I are up for hours in the middle of the night.
He only wants to cuddle in my arms.
Then he falls asleep.
He howls when I put him in his crib.
The hours pass, two, three, four o‘clock.
My eyes are droopy.
My mind stops functioning correctly.
The sun rises.
I start my day exhausted.
There’s not time for being tired.
My husband has to go to work.
I have to take my daughter to school.
I am a zombe.
The baby is fussy. He wants constant attention.
His nap time comes.
He is tired.
Finally, sleep comes his way.
Twenty-eight short minutes later he awakes.
I did not sleep.
I sluggishly make my way to his bedroom.
When is the day going to be over so I can snuggle in comfy bed?
I hear cranky noises outside of his door.
I am so tired.
I peek into his room.
His eyes light up.
He flashes me his giant tic-tac grin.
He utterly adores me, and I him.
My tiredness washes away.
I smile in return.
He continues to follow me with his eyes as I walk to the side of his crib.
He lets out a deep belly chuckle, still ear-to-ear grin.
I pick him up and say, “I am so happy to see you.”
And I mean it.
This might very well be the poem that I have written in which I am the most pleased with. Wow.
I finished the book, Stargirl, today. It was great and I recommend it highly. Although it is a young adult read it is very interesting to read as an adult. One sees it quite differently and can relate differently to the characters. I have come up with some pretty creative activities that I will do with my two students in regards to this book.
My granny B once told me a story that I would like to try to write as a short story. Here is what she said, put in my own words from a conversation I had with her:
“I messed up daddy’s new straw hat. It was expensive and he hadn’t worn it yet. It was hanging on the back of my bedroom door and I accidentally mashed it between the door and the wall. I told my mom and she tried to fix it. She washed and ironed it and put it back, hoping he would not notice but he did. When he brought it to her, she said that she had done it. He was upset. He was cussing and yelling. He set in his mind that if he couldn’t wear it, he would destroy it. He tried and tried, but it would not break. He even tried to stick his foot through the top but it held together. He finely threw it in the fire and we went to Sunday dinner without him wearing any hat at all.”
Misc. thoughts about the story
57F sunny, Easter April 5, 1942, Molly was 8 years old.
The house was fancy with built-in cupboard, which were a luxury at that time.
Sunday dinner without any hat at all. They still had a fine time, though. Granddaddy Glass played the fiddle. Mae Fannie and Mom played the organ. We all sang songs, danced and had a grand time.