Showing posts with label poem. Show all posts
Showing posts with label poem. Show all posts

Thursday, January 3, 2019

Thank you Fans - Our Most Popular Posts

We love tracking our adventures. And thru nearly a decade of blogging about the fun we have had, we are sharing our most popular blog posts here. A top ten list to start the New Year! 

Along the path we have been on, we are now including our Video Channel, where you can see some of the sillyness live! 

While the banner is brand new, and we have lots of fun videos for you to enjoy - especially about insects, life with kids, and traveling.


Thank you Fans: Our Most Popular Posts

YOUTUBE CHANNEL AMI STUDIOS CHICAGO

Our family has had many adventures through the years. Mom, the @Minstr0Interior had an a-ha moment . . .  Suddenly I See what we will have filled our life with, ADVENTURES! We travel, craft, sing, dance, collect insects and spend loads of time together. Sometimes too much time together. Our kids have recently begun to document their own adventures, and so this channel was born. Enjoy our adventures. Or not. WANT MORE? If there is a blog post accompanying this video we will share it here. Sometimes we will include the ingredients list of the craft or recipe, or the itinerary of our trip. In the meantime click play. 

From our family: 👍 + 🙃 + ❤️ ( Thumbs up, emoji face, hearts! )

See It Live >>> https://www.youtube.com/channel/UC2mGpujQIVgxdfTImFnQuLA

Thank you Fans: Our Most Popular Posts

Monday, August 14, 2017

Death of classmate: A poem about healing

Death of classmate // Healing

No more shooting mom
Listening to the news
Telling my son to play dead
Mom what's that

Basketball games rivalries end in death
Buy a gun for $100 on the corner
Everyone knows where
Sister cry for food
Sister city to play
Sister city a new town
for the death of a child

Pendragon, Pendleton,
shot in a park,
5 blocks from the President's home
Performed at the inaugural
Died at attention.

Gun control won't cut it,
Video games won't cut it,
Mental health registry won't cut it,
Where are the shooters parents,
Where is the raising of a child.

The shootings in Chicago have gone insane. And while this was during the Obama administration, I was deeply affected. We discuss the why's at home. White privilege, poverty, cycles of abuse and the insanity of shootings. What do we tell the children? We talk about these issues openly. And then I deal with my kids saying they are scared when we know we are safe at home. This is not our world, but it hurts my heart.

One day, this will change.

NEW UPDATE :: YOUTUBE CHANNEL INFO ARE YOU SURE ABOUT THAT BLOG


Our family has had many adventures through the years. Mom, the @Minstr0Interior had an a-ha moment . . .  Suddenly I See what we will have filled our life with, ADVENTURES! We travel, craft, sing, dance, collect insects and spend loads of time together. Sometimes too much time together. Our kids have recently begun to document their own adventures, and so this channel was born. Enjoy our adventures. Or not. WANT MORE? If there is a blog post accompanying this video we will share it here. Sometimes we will include the ingredients list of the craft or recipe, or the itinerary of our trip. In the meantime click play. 



From our family: 👍 + 🙃 + ❤️ ( Thumbs up, emoji face, hearts! )



See It Live >>> 


https://www.youtube.com/channel/UC2mGpujQIVgxdfTImFnQuLA

make mistakes, breathe and keep breathing.

Thursday, January 19, 2017

When Fear is Around, a poem

"When fear is around" A Poem 

Story behind the poem:


The inspiration behind the poem. When we observe people around us I always say we are outsiders looking in, inside their box. Imagine the world you live in. It is different then mine. Your community, your office. your house. That is "your box." If I were to look inside your world it would like like me taking the lid off the top of the box and looking inside. I am looking into your box. Inside your world.

When we live in our own box, we see things from our perspective. But when an outsider looks into the box they will see things very differently. When my husband and I chat about life, the kids, or work, his perspective is different then mine. We look into eachothers boxes and sometimes see things differently. And that can be helpful, and eye opening (after the frustration of being told how different I am).

When looking into the box, we see people at their best or worst. But we don't analyze ourselves that way.

Both our Babcia's suffer from some level if anxiety and fear (night time fear of the dark, yet saying they are not afraid. Teasing kids with fear of animals, or losing a chess game...) I mean everyone does have some level of fear, or anxiety at some point in their lives. However as they age their fears are sharpened, like a fine point on a sharpened pencil. I just see WHAT their particular fears is more then they recognize it themselves. For one grandma, sometimes it is medical concerns, and death and dying. For the other its the darkness, nighttime and a fear of someone breaking into her home. I would argue we all have these as fears, at some point. Or concerns. I just see it amplified in them because they talk about THESE particular fears often.

The Poem // WHEN FEAR IS AROUND


Growing,
Stronger,
Every year.

Paranoia,
Anxiety,
Her fear.

Driving,
Walking,
Every day.

The Beach,
The store,
Every way.

Her fear of the dark has swollen thick,
When driving she fears getting hit,
What, when, where is it
The fear is hers and constant.

All. The. Time.
She can't face it.
She feels it,
She never unwinds.

Do you see that truck? Is the alarm on? In case of fire, keep it armed.
At night I hear her as she dreams, muffled noises, silent screams.

By morning we learn she was running away, from the dark, a man, an animal gone astray.

We can't discuss it,
she denies it's there.
The ever constant,
always growing, Fear.

The storm was so loud,
I laid in bed,
The the trees shook,
Branches scraping above my bed.

Did the siren sound? Did the earth shake?
No major alarms, but it still made her heart quake.

It's the smallest thing,
The quietest creek,
When her ears give alert,
And she listens for it to speak.

Fear says hello
In its own way.
Each of us hearing it,
What does it say?

For me it's the creaking in the hall,
Why is there noise when there should be none at all.

For him it's his wife coming to bed,
It's late, its dark, he rested his head.
Suddenly a light, someone entering the room,
He catches his breath as his heart zooms.

For the children it's the darkness, when they lay their heads.
And they snuggle their animals, warm in their beds.
They fall asleep to the sounds of kids songs,
The pounding of their hearts is drowned and gone.

And Great Grandma she wonders,
Will I fall asleep in my bed,
Or will I fall into that wonderland,
And my body lay cold and dead?
Then her heart pounds,
Her face warms, and she quakes
Her mind racing,
She quivers and quakes.
It's happening, this is the moment it's now,....
When fear takes over and all reason bows down.

I wish her peace, I wish her calm,
I wish her patients thru the it all.
Neither silence or sound,
Can help calm her,
When Fear is Around.

NEW UPDATE :: YOUTUBE CHANNEL INFO ARE YOU SURE ABOUT THAT BLOG


Our family has had many adventures through the years. Mom, the @Minstr0Interior had an a-ha moment . . .  Suddenly I See what we will have filled our life with, ADVENTURES! We travel, craft, sing, dance, collect insects and spend loads of time together. Sometimes too much time together. Our kids have recently begun to document their own adventures, and so this channel was born. Enjoy our adventures. Or not. WANT MORE? If there is a blog post accompanying this video we will share it here. Sometimes we will include the ingredients list of the craft or recipe, or the itinerary of our trip. In the meantime click play. 



From our family: 👍 + 🙃 + ❤️ ( Thumbs up, emoji face, hearts! )



See It Live >>> 


https://www.youtube.com/channel/UC2mGpujQIVgxdfTImFnQuLA


Make mistakes, breathe reflect, and turn on a light. Laugh at the dark.

Monday, August 3, 2015

Poem: Husbands Love; "You have given me wings"

Husband's Love

Today you told me you loved me so much,
That you don't even know,
You couldn't place why that was,
But a few ideas you wanted to show:
What a good job I've done with the boys, or maybe tending to you?
As for the house cleaning, not so much,
But we agree it's kept tidy too.

We laugh, often and sometimes hard,
It can even lead to tears,
And if we're feeling somewhat jarred,
other times we share our deepest fears.
But today, you realized what it is, 
that feeling that brings you Close to me,
It's not the kids, house or jokes,
it's just letting you be free! 


The story behind the poem:

I had supported my husband through college as his "editor" on his various papers. This continued into his first and second jobs in administration. Then I supported him when he joined a principal training program and was gone 5 times over the course of a year to visit other school districts nationwide. 

He said one night I had "given him his wings" to be free to pursue his career. And I was happy to help.

by: Areyousureaboutthatblog Author
Not Authorized for Reproduction Without Permission

Make Mistakes. Breath, Reflect. and Laugh.Out.Loud

Poem: Decorating with Things I Find

Yes, my kids fall asleep in the car when we drive back from an activity or errand. So I would let them sleep. They loved it. My grandma would ALWAYS COMPLAIN, how uncomfortable, how miserable for the kids. Move them to their bed.

As a kid who grew up on the road I loved sleeping in the car. I still do. The movement and motion of the road makes a great napping. So I wouldn't transfer the kids, unless I had to. And in time I discovered driving around and letting the kids sleep was not uncomfortable, miserable, or making them unhappy.

When driving around I saw first hand the first world benefit we have, and our neighbors, where having an excess of items and being able to throw good, quality things away.

No photos here... just some thoughts on the trash.


POEM // DECORATING WITH THINGS I FIND

I Listed things I found,
In the neighborhood when driving around.
My kids would nap in the car,
Why should I wake their dreams from afar.

An antique table, who's trim can be fixed in a breeze,
a little glue could allow this table to hold my keys. 

An entire play lot for my kids,
a slide, a hut and tunnel in it.

Kitchen chairs made of solid wood,
found by my uncle in the hood.

Even a pair of jeans once owned,
were thrown out, forgotten, alone.

Dumpster diving is a skill,
one that I do not do well.

However this excess that we have,
throw it out, by a new one instead.

Plastic is cheap, a small price to pay,
for the convenience of instant replacement to stay.

The value of quality, workmanship and expertise,
I feel is lost. But not in my home,
not to be tossed.

Out out out in the cold.
A new couch, a rug, a lamp,
from the home.



NEW UPDATE :: YOUTUBE CHANNEL INFO


Our family has had many adventures through the years. Mom, the @Minstr0Interior had an a-ha moment . . .  Suddenly I See what we will have filled our life with, ADVENTURES! We travel, craft, sing, dance, collect insects and spend loads of time together. Sometimes too much time together. Our kids have recently begun to document their own adventures, and so this channel was born. Enjoy our adventures. Or not. WANT MORE? If there is a blog post accompanying this video we will share it here. Sometimes we will include the ingredients list of the craft or recipe, or the itinerary of our trip. In the meantime click play. 


From our family: 👍 + 🙃 + ❤️ ( Thumbs up, emoji face, hearts! )


See It Live >>> 


https://www.youtube.com/channel/UC2mGpujQIVgxdfTImFnQuLA

Make mistakes, breathe and laugh.out.loud!

Wednesday, November 5, 2014

Happy Halloween Book of Doom, Written by Older 9YO Son

On the day of Halloween, a snowy Friday in Chicago this year, my older son came home from 4th grade with a "Happy Halloween Dictionary / Book of Doom." he wrote it before the end of the day at his school Halloween party. I love that his vocabulary is large, but he's still working on his spelling. Werewolves was spelled "wearewholf," Frankenstein was only missing the 1st "e," and Pumkins without another "p." regardless, it's a great creative little story. It highlights his awareness of the roles of each creature, and the totality of their supposed powers coming true all in one night. I love this kid and his creativity! Happy Halloween. Book of Doom written by Older 9-year old son "Werewolves Jump at night At the moon of fright. Franknstine knocks on your classroom door. In your window bats fly. Pumpkins talk when your back is turned. Ghosts fly in front of your face. Zombies eat you one at a time. Hope you survive this Halloween. From, Older Son" Make mistakes. Breathe, reflect and Laugh.Out.Loud.

Friday, October 31, 2014

The Halloween "Black and White Witch" Strikes Again, Swapping Candy for Toys

Have you heard of a new tradition of the Black and White Witch? After the trick-or-treats are collected, if your house is anything like ours, she is an amazing fun way to solve the excess candy problem. Yes, I know, just EAT the candy... And we do, but as you'll note from these pictures our 3 kids easily collected 10 pounds of candy! 

Our Halloween candy tends to last all year! Seriously ALL YEAR!  And the way that it lasts all year? Well the black-and-white witch takes care of it. She is a relative of the tooth-fairy,  third cousins, once removed. 

Last year she left us this poem on our front stoop explaining how her operation works:

"I am the witch who is Black and White, 
I fill your Halloween with fright. 
After tonight I must fly away, 
and return to scare the children another day. 
But before I leave I will cast a spell, 
which will not make you feel well. 
You will ache, quake and feel yucky inside… 
But there's a way to put all this aside. 
To break my spell you must give me some sweets, 
but only the ones you don't want to eat! 
I need the sugar to keep me alive, 
until next Halloween I'll survive.
And in exchange for the treats you leave, 
I'll give you something you won't believe! 
For every girl and boy,
you will awake to a brand-new toy! 
Break my spell unless you want to feel yucky inside, 
and get me on my broomstick ride. 
And tomorrow morning you will delight, 
with the toy I've left in your sight. 

Love the Black-&-White Witch"

Last years appearance was a tremendous hit. 




An All Hallows Eve Tradition

During a filling spaghetti dinner (leaving less room for post trick or treat candy), we talk about the All Hallows Eve tradition, and why we dress like ghouls and goblins going house to house to collect candy (do you know why?) 

We dressed warm this year under our costumes to a snowy Chicago Halloween. And even tho we only hit 2-blocks for Trick or Treating, we really scored the mother load of candy. 

The boys sorted their candy, and put their absolute favorites in our candy jar (B&W Witch won't take it since she avoids glass jars). Then they leave out their Halloween Candy Buckets with leftovers for the Witch to take. She returns the favor with a toy. 

In 2013 Bey Blades were all the rage! This year, my dad dropped off more toys that he's filtered from my brothers room... these Awesome Dragon Creatures. Each child gets 2, mom added the candy in the dragons mouths for effect :-) (And I have a sneaky suspicion the rest of the dragons will make an appearance at Christmas! The kids will have a whole set.)

As for the candy, that plastic bag is filled with this years take, it's weighing easily 7 pounds ... I took M&M's out for tomorrow mornings pancakes (the kids will be suffering sugar withdrawal and M&M pancakes are a good fix). Mommy took her butterfingers and Hersey's stash, Dad gets Twix and Kit Kats. The candy bag destiny awaits on the top shelf of the pantry and I will use the goods to refill the candy jar throughout the year.

Happy trick or treats this Halloween. I hope the Black and White Witch makes an appearance at your house soon... Even up to a few days after the Hallow's Eve.

Happy Halloween!

Make Mistakes. Breathe, Reflect, and Laugh.Out.Loud

Saturday, October 18, 2014

Poem: Me

Poem: ME

When yacking with the girls over a drink,
Sometimes I tend to think.
Am I a dying breed?
I think so with all my little deeds.

Just because I like to sew, 
cook lunch thru dinner, clean and mow.
Jack of all trades like a handy man,
An "Expert in nothing" proudly I am. 
To Fix a drip and a squeaky floor,
I'll use pliers and sprinkle talc near the door.

Sewing our costumes is not a trick,
Near the dogs collar I remove a tick
Makin' lobster bisque or (oooh) corn chowder,
To slide into my jeans I'll sprinkle baby powder.

Spring time digging, planting, is my joy,
Helping the kids bring out summer toys.
Making fresh penne in Pesto Paste,
Making mulch with vegetable waste.
In the falls collecting seeds, 
Grateful that there are no weeds.
Shopping lists which I don't dread,
Yes, I use my own bags instead!

We enjoy meals with a cloth napkin,
And cloth diapers our babies sat in.
I'm proud of the things that I can do,
And frankly I enjoy my life too.

So instead of sharing my latest tip,
I'll just sit here and take a sip.




The Story Behind the Poem:

When I first gave birth to my Older Son, at the 4 month mark I remember a cousin asked me "What do you do all day?" I laugh now at the thought. Truly running a household, is a full time job and a half (when my employed husband is home he helps out too). Yes I could eat ice cream all day, but the fruit is so much more rewarding when you grew it yourself.

So, at our bi-monthly girls nights I often sit, and listen. I dont share everything I do at home (I haven't even shared this blog). Because they do so much in their daily lives, SAHM stuff is boring... Time consuming... And it's a little sick that I enjoy it.

by: Areyousureaboutthatblog Author
Not Authorized for Reproduction Without Permission

Make Mistakes. Breath, Reflect. and Laugh.Out.Loud

Saturday, March 8, 2014

Poem: 18 Months Old



July, 2010 (my younger son)

Stacking blocks,
So mundane.
Your first crocs,
You've outgrown them again!
Your first steps that you just took,
Your already "signing" book.

This time is precious because it goes so fast,
I know speechless doesn't last,
Soon you'll be talking and going to school,
Growing up fast just isn't cool! 

18 months old

(My Poetry)
2011-05-23
by: Areyousureaboutthatblog Author
Not Authorized for Reproduction Without Permission

Make Mistakes. Breath, Reflect. and Laugh.Out.Loud

Poem: Honey, Your Socks are on the Floor, Again

Honey, honey, you left you sox on the floor, again...
I can believe the hamper lid didn't stay open.

I'm pretty sure I do enough in this house,

More then your ordinary spouse.

Don't take advantage of me like that,

You can do more then wipe your feet on the mat.

Pick up your sox, and put them away,

Cause around the bend is the day,

That I'll start throwing them out,

And you'll just have to do without.


by: Areyousureaboutthatblog Author
Not authorized for reproduction without permission.

Poem: A New Baby, As the Weeks Go By.

A poem, about my new baby. This poem was inspired by the song by the Laurie Berkner Band, "5 days old." In my poem version this is life with a new nursing baby week to week.

Week 1 things are slow you sleep a lot

Week 2 you have started to eat non stop

Week 3 I'm told it's the halfway point

Week 4 remind me what's the point?

Week 5 still constantly eating

Week 6 I wish I knew what you were getting in a feeding

Week 7 still constant nursing

Week 8 at least your sleeping more and I've stopped cursing

Week 9 you lost some weight a bump in the road

Week 10 I'll have to supplement and 

Week 11 you scream at the breast

Week 12 I'm getting more rest

Week 13 I have a nipple infection

Week 14 at least you get only my nutrition




2012-09-07 009

By: Areyousureaboutthatblog author
Reproduction Not Allowed Without Permission

This is a photo of my baby girl nursing to sleepy and my young son just behind her.

Poem: Making the Best of it

You have to make the best of it,
You have to make the most of it. 
You can't complain about it for years,
That just brings more tears.
Some days are mundane,
Other days are plain.
The children will grow,
The lawn he'll mow.
It's a peaceful life,
Without much strife.
If you make the best of it.
If you make the most of it.


The Story Behind the Poem

One day I was sitting contemplating my career change. How different it is. How challenging in Good ways and in ways that made me look at myself as a person. When you decide to become a stay a home mom, you might not realize EXACTLY what your getting into. No ones gonna tell you good job, no bonus, no promotion. Coming from a corporate structure with a clear "reward for your efforts" strategy to, well, self motivation - - - is very very very hard. But when you arrive. . . It feel oh so great!

2013-07-16 135  

I do know that constantly reading and staying on top of new and evolving information is important to help keep your sanity too. Read about those ideas here.

by: Areyousureaboutthatblog Author
Not Authorized for Reproduction Without Permission

Make Mistakes. Breath, Reflect. and Laugh.Out.Loud

Poem: The Cycle

The Story Behind the Poem:

Abuse and neglect carry over generations, it becomes a "parenting style."  How could a child raised in such an environment: ... know how to raise her own children? Break the cycle? Lift herself out of such hopelessness and tragedy for a beautiful life? 

My husband worked as an administrator in the inner city schools for several years. The stories he told me inspired this poem. Many many scary stories. All the more horrifying BECAUSE they were TRUE. Working in the ghetto, gives you perspective on issues you cannot even begin to understand, unless you've been there. All of the stories collided in my mind as if lived thru the eyes of a little girl. 

I wrote this poem in 2008. However, years later another accidental ride through the inner city reminded me of this time in my life, a Visit to the Westside of Chicago through photos. 



Westside of Chicago by areyousureaboutthatblog

The Cycle

Growin' old, age 3, didn't get beat,
Gettin McD's and somethi' sweet.
'Cause My mama gave me $5 today,
Gonna sit now on a porch 'n play.

Mama came home, she didn't say hi,
Sat next to her watchin' the bruise heal on her eye.
Watchin' TV, sesame street, 
Elmo the monster is cute, he has Red feet.

Starting school, I didn't know why?
Grandnana said education Is mine.
Walked in, my belly aches,
Wishin' for some hotcakes.

Sitting in the office again, I was yellin' at my friend.
A mama came 'n, her boy was 8. 
Signin' him up for school a little late.
He touched a pencil 'n the desk, 
When she looked at him her eyes popped out of her head!
He put his hand down real fast,
He looked at her know'n this peace wouldn't last.
She said he was dumb, she didn't know what to do, 
so she decided to send him to skoo'.

Graduat'n today, mama was late,
My diploma shows I did great.
High schools ah'ight, boys get'n in so many a fight.
My boyfriend asked me if I'm gonna have my baby tonight.


by: Areyousureaboutthatblog Author
Not Authorized for Reproduction Without Permission
Make Mistakes. Breathe, Reflect. and Laugh.Out.Loud

Poem: Making Mulch

Making Mulch

City living,
Requires More creative thinking.
A compost pile is easy to start,
And all it takes is a part,
In your yard where you can,
Make the food to Feed your garden.

Find a place that's outta the way,
But easily accessible on a snowy day. 
Making mulch can be a year round task,
Think of the reward your commitment won't be crass.

First, use a chicken wire net,
Then, shape a circle, that's the easiest bet.
No digging is required, 
Maybe a small staketo keep higher.

Then remember to fold the top in,
Otherwise you'll getta new frien'.
This big guy will be your doom,
Since he'll eat your gold, in the tummy of the raccoon.

by: Areyousureaboutthatblog Author
Not Authorized for Reproduction Without Permission

Make Mistakes. Breath, Reflect. and Laugh.Out.Loud

Pumping is Hard

Pumping is Hard
2009

Pumping, Pumping, God this sucks.
My breast feel like rocks.

Hook up Like I'm some kind of cow,
But my milk is so precious cause now,
Is the last time I'll be making any 
For my baby "the grand finale."

So since it's so important to me,
And giving you food that keeps you healthy.

I'll stay right here and keep on pumping, pumping, pumping.

By: Areyousureaboutthatblog author
may not be reproduced without permission.

The Story behind the poem:

I successfully nursed all three of my children. I read once:
 if your baby gets even a few drops, you have nursed successfully.
 if your baby gets even one breast feeding a day, you have nursed successfully.
 if your baby latches on, you have nursed successfully.
 if your baby gets a partial breast feeding, you have nursed successfully.


2012-08-19 

(My daughter would always tuck her feet near my knees as she nursed to sleep All.The.Time. She is two years old  now and still does this when shes sleeping in our bed!) 

For a gung ho mom like me this was a lot to swallow. Not going all 100% - new definitions can give sanity. I had hardship during nursing my older son. But I still reflect on the moments I did nurse. When I was successful. And HOW MUCH I LEARNED in the process. In my post on Breastfeeding tips, I listed all the learnings and little details that helped me during what can be such a challenging time.

Pumping is one of the worst things ever.  Its so unnatural. However, many moms can work and provide nourishment, the "liquid gold," for their baby... and that's tremendous success.

After I wrote this while pumping. I stopped. I decided I would only nurse my daughter, as a stay at home mom this was possible. And I wouldn't do anything to "increase my milk supply" because my daughter would drive that process. She would nurse more frequently or earlier when she needed more food. And when I made that decision, some of my sanity came back.


Make Mistakes. Breath, Reflect. and Laugh.Out.Loud

 

Poem: I Spy Games

I-spy poems we made up while commuting.


I spy a building taller then the trees, 
the birds land on top of it and do as they please.
Do you see there's a stick all the way on top. 
It looks like the handle of a mop. 
(a skyscraper antenna downtown)

I spy something brown 
that sits upon ur head. 
This one has something green
on top of it instead. 
This one is short and straight, 
I know you have it and I do too,  
we see it early and late.
I found it, can you?
(Your morning hair colic) 

I spy something brown sticking out of the ground
Sometimes it's a little white, and I keep it in my sight - leafless trees

I spy a passing blue sign
It is leaving us behind
It is blue red and white
I cannot keep it in my sight - highway signs

I spy something flying by
It's way up in the sky
It's brown and white
Concentrating on their flight - Birds

This original poem was from November 2010, while nursing my younger son.

I spy something. 
Warm and wet, 
it's in the morning that u get.
It tastes yummy, just divine,
But it doesn't taste like mommies wine.

If you are reading this post, please post a comment below on what you liked - or didn't  - about this read. Does the topic interest you and you want to know more? Submit a question and I am happy to tackle it.

by: Areyousureaboutthatblog Author
Not Authorized for Reproduction Without Permission

Make Mistakes. Breath, Reflect. and Laugh.Out.Loud

Poem: Coffee Press

French Press

Oh coffee press how I've missed you soooo,
your cousin was here but he had to go.
He fell on his glASS, cracked and smAShed. 
So now that you have come to live with me, 
I think I'll make some Iced Tea.

The story behind the poem:

I make my morning java in a French Press. I like the strong bitter taste of coffee, and so much flavor is retained when compared to coffee maker brew.

Well the day came when my press was cracked and damaged as I washed it out. It took my ages to replace it. I was so trilled at the sight if a new press, when my kids asked why I was buying a new one? I said: "because his cousin cracked."

by: Areyousureaboutthatblog Author
Not Authorized for Reproduction Without Permission

Make Mistakes. Breath, Reflect. and Laugh.Out.Loud

Poem: Turn into a Rock?

A Quick story For My Kids

The witch named Jo lived in the forest,
She liked to make her place it bright for days or she would cast a spell on the trees to make it dark. 
She didn't bother anyone because she lived so deep in the forest. 

So when you go and pick berries you don't even see the witch.
She's busy being alone. 
She changes frogs into logs or bats into cats, to finish a project around her home or to have a new friend to roam.

Sometimes when she is tired of flying on her broom she would change a reindeer into a bicycle. And go off track bike to ride over rocks and sticks. 

Older son asked: 
Does she turn the rock into a wolf and then he eats her? 

The Story Behind the Poem

We were sitting at the kitchen table and my son said: "Mom, tell us a story." We had just been talking about how my mom lives alone, if she's lonely, and how she keeps busy. That conversation inspired this tale.

If you are reading this post, please post a comment below on what you liked - or didn't  - about this read. Does the topic interest you and you want to know more? Submit a question and I am happy to tackle it.

by: Areyousureaboutthatblog Author
Not Authorized for Reproduction Without Permission

Make Mistakes. Breath, Reflect. and Laugh.Out.Loud

Wednesday, February 26, 2014

Poem: my kids won't know what this is

Things my children don't know "what is that"

A telephone with a cord,
In the wall we had an ironing board.
A cassette tape with headphones,
Or a record player with round flat albums.
In those toll booths a person sat,
it's where cars paid coins at.
You had to get up to change the channel
An encyclopedia, is that some animal?
Line 10, writing computer code so it would print,
Touching the screen was to remove lint.
Cta was paid with cash,
And only a car had a dash.

If you are reading this post, please post a comment below on what you liked - or didn't  - about this read. Does the topic interest you and you want to know more? Submit a question and I am happy to tackle it.

by: Areyousureaboutthatblog Author
Not Authorized for Reproduction Without Permission

Make Mistakes. Breath, Reflect. and Laugh.Out.Loud


Tuesday, February 25, 2014

Poem: Dad's Working Late

Dad's working late

Thank you dad for working late, 
So mom and I can have a date.
You will find us fast asleep,
With the books we've read knee deep.

Don't be mad, You must understand,
That you will hav to lend a hand,
And move me back to my own bed,
So you will have a place to lay your head.

The story Behind the Poem

We love reading books at night to our kids. And when my husband first started his Principalship he worked ridiculous long hours. So often, he'd come home and find me cuddled up with he kids, and a stack of books on the bed and floor that we'd read before bed. 

by: Areyousureaboutthatblog Author
Not Authorized for Reproduction Without Permission

Make Mistakes. Breath, Reflect. and Laugh.Out.Loud



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