Sunday, May 8, 2011

A Mother's Day Poem

To Mommy

I love my mom
She is a bomb

She makes awesome cakes
That I don't know how she bakes

She is the best
She towers over the rest

She goes on walks with me
We like to see what we can see

Red, pink and blue make her smile
It's worth the while.

-Josh MacIntyre, age 9

Thoughts on #1 and #5

When number one was born, his room was perfectly organized and decorated and ready weeks in advance.
When number five was born, he slept in a tiny crib by my bed.

When number one was sleeping, the entire house was perfectly quiet, the ringer was turned off on the phone, and I tiptoed around the apartment.
When number five was sleeping, children ran round the house hollering, washing machines and vacuums ran, and the phone never stopped ringing.

When number one was a baby, the whole household was organized around his schedule, when he slept or ate, or when he need a bath or was playing.
When number five was a baby, he fit into the schedule of a large family, and slept and ate in between dropping kids off at the bus, picking them up after school, and running them to afterschool activities. 

When number one was a baby, everything was sterilized, including him!  If a soother dropped on the floor, it was boiled for two minutes.
When number five was a baby, if his soother dropped on the floor, it was wiped on mom's jeans and popped back in his mouth.

Number one's baby book is completed to the last page, with pictures and up to date entries.
Number five has a baby book, still in it's original packaging.

Number one to number five, with all the ones in between, are deeply loved by their mother.

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