Some of you may recall a post I put up a few months ago about my sad, sad office door. We lovingly dubbed it the Doodle Door and I gave the kids, and anyone who happened to stop by, a sharpie and free rein.
The results have been amazing. It’s true what someone said, “You’ll let people draw all over this and then you’ll NEVER strip and repaint it. It will be too precious.”
That’s a very good word for it, precious. *gollum*gollum*
No more writing about it. Here are the pictures so you can enjoy it yourself.
***NOTE: All wild scribbling by Little George.
Super Happy Fun School is actively working on spelling.
It has been a crappy, crappy month. Which sucks (yes, I’m using all the mommy swears today) because it’s our big birthday month. Several of us have birthdays in February, plus we have Valentine’s day and all those other fun, lesser holidays. Anyway, we usually party our brains out, but instead we’ve been puking our guts out for two weeks straight plus fevers and sinus infections. It’s like I’m living in a dystopian novel or something. Anyway, it’s reminded me of this poem I wrote a few years ago. My, how nothing changes… I love my job, no matter how gross. Mike Rowe has nothing on me.
A Mother’s Valentine
I do not love you with candy hearts
Or waxy chocolates from the dollar store.
I do not love you with flowers that wilt
Or toys that break by lunchtime.
I do not love you with frothy cards
Full of glitter and inane declarations written by some other hand.
Rather, I love you with bacon sizzling in the dark morning hours before the birds.
I love you with a soft blanket tucked around your shoulders after you drift away.
I love you with bags full of library books and bags under my eyes,
With lectures on strangers and street ball,
With broccoli and cabbage and peaches and spinach
and dirt under my nails from our three season organic garden.
I love you with long walks in the park and stories about childhood without video games.
I love you with homemade cookies.
I love you with piano lessons.
I love you with a foggy, sleep deprived brain.
I love you with red leaky eyes and a heavy heart when you are hurting.
I love you with exclamations and swelling emails to your grandparents when you are triumphant.
So very, very, very many photographs.
I love you with blossoming fears and fully rooted dreams.
I love you with food on my floor and barf on my shirt.
I love you with marker decorating the new couch.
I love you with Tide, Clorox, baking soda and vinegar.
I love you with toothpaste and tear-free shampoo.
I love you with gluten free vanilla special ordered from Madagascar.
I love you with the latest Pixar movie and popcorn and a blanket on the floor. Likewise,
I love you with time out and grounding until you turn 21.
I love you with the keys to the car,
my best lipstick,
the necklace your daddy gave me,
and my credit card.
I love you with pride and humility and every night I love you on my knees,
pouring out my soul to Our Father who made us,
grateful to be your mother,
pleading for your safety,
longing for your comprehension,
but knowing it will only come
when you are a parent too.