Beyond The Purple Sky

There are few things as heartbreaking as when your little one has a nightmare. How, oh how, do you explain to them it wasn't real? Personally, I'm still trying to make sense of dreams myself! Try explaining to a small fry that there really is no monster when they JUST SAW IT!! And when they are really, really little, they aren't even able to verbalize what their fear IS. Comforting them can be so difficult, and all you want to do is make them feel safe and protected.

One night, in the wee hours, Blake had a particularly scary nightmare. He was around four years old. I ran to his room, his teary eyes as big as golf balls, arms flailing. I wrapped him in his favorite Scooby Doo blanket and whisked him down to the rocking chair in the living room so as not to disturb his sisters. I turned on a soft light, rocking and comforting him ... listening as he explained to the best of his ability all about the nasty boogy man who "twied and get" him. Dang that boogy man!! Even though I knew he didn't exist, I still found myself wanting to kick his butt! ;) Fortunately, in the long run, nothing a little cookie and lot's of kisses wouldn't make all better. As he fell asleep in my arms, we rocked back and forth together in the chair, and I wrote him this:

Beyond The Purple Sky

Once upon a pleasant dream

my flying horse and I,

traveled to a magic place

beyond the purple sky.

We met the most peculiar friends

that I have ever seen,

and had a picnic on a lawn

of orange, instead of green.

We dined on sweet ripe apples

which were colored shades of blue,

and listened to the singing

of a yellow kangaroo.

We played a game of softball

with a group of antelope,

and joined in with the turtles

as they skipped a licorice rope.

From now on when I go to sleep

instead of dreams that scare,

I'm gonna take my flying horse

and travel back to there!

When I would go to place him back in his bed, hours later, he opened his eyes and looked at me just as I was sneaking out of his room. "Well, hiya Blakie!", I said quietly, as though I just happened to be checking on him. "What 'cha doing awake sweet pea?" .... "Well...I doh no mama," he said, with both hands raised up, in a perplexed motion. "I jus open my eyes and it wokeded me up!" .... And then he giggled...and fell back to sleep.

Summer Bug

The family that lived across the street were raising their two grandchildren. One was closest to Tiffany's age, and the other an adorable little chunk of a monster named Anthony. He idolized Heidi and Blake. When he was about 18 months old, I woke one morning and went downstairs to make coffee. Through the front window, I would see him, wet diaper sagging to his knees, an absolute mop of black tossled hair on his head, and nothing more... nothing more that is, except two huge butcher knifes he had undoubtedly swiped from the kitchen with no one being the wiser, before making his was out the front door and to the lawn. At first I couldn't believe my eyes. I moved in closer for a look see. Surely, they were play knifes?? Halloween props perhaps?? But NO!! And no adults in sight! Anthony stood like a Ninja, before jumping forward, swinging the knives up and down, round and round, kicking one foot out and then the other, as he attacked some invisible warrior, or dragon, or who knows what else! WHAT THE...? I went flying out the front door and across the street in my nightgown (ummmmmm...I can't promise I looked both ways....my bad). "Hey there, Anthony!", I said, trying not to scare him too much. "What 'cha doin' there little Samurai?" I moved closer... "I pay'ing!! Me stwong!!" Uhhhhhhh...."Let me see what ya' got there little strong man!" Closer, closer.... He lept and turned all in one motion, running to the other side of the lawn, turning back towards me in a proper Ninja stance, and making all the appropriate noises..."Whoosh, wooooooo, swiiiiish, ohhhhhh, ahhhhh, shooooosh, yieeeeeeeee, heeeeeeeyawwwww..." Knives held high. Ah, Jeez... I made my move, grabbing the knives in one hand, and lifting him under my other arm. I carried him to the front door and rang the bell with my elbow. "Good morning!", I said to his Grandma, when she finally answered the door. "I believe this little Ninja might belong to you?"

That Anthony, he was a handful! He also would become almost a constant fixture at our house. We loved him.... even when he would show up at the crack of dawn to wake the family and ask if "Heini" and "Bake" could play...even when he gave the kids head lice (although, I loved him a little bit less then).

Inevitably, however, would come the time one summer, when all three of my little wranglers would get sick. It was a flu to end all flu's. Not only that, they were blessed with a nastly little condition known as "Pink Eye"... I think some of you now what I'm talkin' about. I was changing sheets, emptying vomit pails, cleaning the floor, administering medicines, checking temperatures, warm cloth washing eyes so they could see, changing beds, trying to keep up with the laundry, making whatever I could get them each to eat...and doing it all all over again, and again. I was covered head to toe in vomit and diarrhea, for days on end. And in between it all, day after day, hour after hour...would come little Anthony. Knock, knock, knock...ding-dong, ding-dong...knock, knock, knock... One evening, during this good time had by all... I would pen this, in honor of our little Ninja, who just would not go away...

Summer Bug

Sorry, but the kids can't play.

They'll be out another day.

When their germs have gone away

you'll be welcome in to play.

No young friend, they still can't play,

same as earlier today.

For the eighteenth time I'll say

they're all inside and sick today.

Say whatever you've to say...

No, you can't come in "halfway".

They'll be out when they can play.

Sorry Hon, but you can't stay.

Yes, I promised yesterday

if their fevers went away!

Same old story, different day,

they're still sick, so GO AWAY!

Like a glimpse of de-ja-vu

something told me it was you!

Health check number fifty-two...

Nothing's changed and nothing's new!

Catch a hint and get a clue!

I've 'bout had enough of YOU!

Read my lips and get it through,

ALL THE KIDS HAVE GOT THE FLU!!!

God love that little bugger... I mean, somebody had to!!! ;)

A Little Giant Step

There are so many first times when you're raising your children.  Some touch your heart in the most profound way.  There's the first smile, the first giggle, their first taste of peas, and ice cream.  Then there's this one...one that I can remember like it was yesterday.  My little Heidi was as precious a little girl as you could possibly imagine.  Pale skin, with a little button nose, rosy cheeks, and blond streaked hair that reached past her bum.  A loving snuggle bug with eyes bluer than the sky.  "Mama!  Mama!", she would call to me upstairs.  "Yes, Heidi?"  "Can I please cross the street to play?  I can do it by myself?  I will look both ways!"  Wow!  I wonder how many times I said "Look both ways before you cross!", in my lifetime...?  "O.K. Honey", I had said, "But be careful!"  She wouldn't know I was watching her, peaking through the curtains of my upstairs bedroom window.  She approached the street, hands on hips, standing tall at attention like the big girl she was.  She looked cautiously, first to the left, then the right, before proceeding to march quickly to the neighbors side of the street.  I would write this only moments afterward...

A Little Giant Step

I watched my daughter cross the street,

her long blond hair a sway...

She glances quickly up the hill,

and then the other way.

Momentous the occasion,

 for the both of us today...

As it's the first time on her own,

she's crossed the street to play!

I wouldn't know until that moment how much this milestone would effect me.  I grabbed a piece of paper and sat on my bed to write this.  The tears would swell in my eyes, and fall so uncontrollably down my cheeks, I would hardly be able to see the paper.       

Baby Sister

Tiffany is my eldest daughter. Three and a half years old when the twins were born.. Wise beyond her years. Wise in ways that defy explaination. Barely pregnant with the twins I was, when she announced I was having boy and girl twins. Something rarely heard of in those days, I explained to her that twins were not something she should count on. Let alone a brother and sister. She would roll her eyes around and around. So put out by my naive, dumb mama attitude. Sure enough, she would come to foresee something even the doctors could not do in those days. Seven months later would come Heidi and Blake. But how was I to know? She was such the princess! How would she handle a new baby? One, let alone two! Assuming I would have a new baby daughter, I wrote her this:

Baby Sister

When Mommy went to make me lunch,

and noone else could hear,

I crept to my new sisters room

so we could get things clear!

Now, I can put my jammies on

and once I tied my shoe,

and I can sleep right through the night

and not wake up like you!

I can count to ten real fast,

and I can sing and dance,

and I wear big girl panties

'cause I never pee my pants!

Mommy paints my fingernails,

but yours are way to small!

And I can hop and skip and jump

and you can't even crawl!

I have my own green toothbrush

'cause I have strong teeth to chew,

and I can eat McDonalds

'stead of formula like you!

I can help our Mommy shop

and ride the pony there.

You can't even wear barrettes,

unless you grow some hair!

Before I got to tell her

that I'd never share my toys,

she waived her tiny hand at me

and made a silly noise!

There's so much I must teach her,

tell me what else could I do?...

I told her she could stick around

till she was one or two!

My little Tiffy would turn out to be anything but jealous. She would be in complete love, with nothing but admiration for her new brother and sister. She would reach out with her little hands the day she met them, her left hand in the blue bassinet, and her right hand in the pink one...and she would cry, introducing herself, and assuring them she would take care of them for always and forever...

Danny Deviate

My little Heidi has a twin brother named Blake. Such a handful that little bugger! A smile that would light the sun. An energy that would challenge the hyper. A joy to our family. He brought laughter that resonated throughout the house.. Sunrise to sunset. He is our little joy boy! But on this one day, he had ignored the rules. RULE: When walking home, you DO NOT take shortcuts!! Point "A" directly to point "B", my little scooter!! Yet he would take the long way home. Up the hills and back down through the vacant lot. "I walked my friend home", he would say, with innocent eyes... school clothes covered with mud...lunch pail and jacket missing..hair all a mess... Me, half wanting to hug him up, half wanting to swat his cute little ass... Overall, just sooo happy he was safe, and at home. Hence, this would be the poem I wrote to read that bedtime:

Danny Deviate

Daring Donna Daisy

and her dolly Debra Drew,

invited Danny Deviate

to tea at half past two.

Danny took a detour

that he never took before,

and didn't get to Donna's

'till at least a half past four.

As he approached her doorstep

what he found was just a note..

He opened it and read outloud

the words his young friend wrote:

You dawdled Danny Deviate,

and now you're way to late!

I'd made your favorite cookies

but by three they'd all been ate!

A disappointed Danny

wished he's come at half past two...

And when he left to walk back home

he took the way he knew!

We all discussed what this meant at bedtime. The moral seemed to make it's mark. Although, it would come back to haunt me time to time, when I came home late from work...

Kitty "Duties"

My then husband was not as keen on pets as I was. I had been raised with a houseful, and felt they were a part of making a house a home. They did not just add to our family...to me, they were family. He was pretty patient, however, cats were something he found to be a "non negotiable"... So oneday, I brought one home as a gift to our daughter. I mean, it was her birthday! I adopted it at the fleamarket, and hid it in her closet in a tiny basket, lined with baby blankets. "Hurry Heidi", I said. "I hear something in your closet!" And so there she would come to find the most pathetic, scrappy, little black kitten you have ever seen in your life. She was ecstatic! He was pissed! Wouldn't talk to me for days. " It doesn't have anywhere to s#%*!", he would complain. But he couldn't really bring himself to make her get rid of it. Threats followed. "It better have a litter box!" he said one evening after work. He had put his foot down. "That damn cat better find somewhere to do it's "duties" in!" His words to God's ears... And so it would go, and this poem would come to life...

Kitty Duties

Remember Dad, you told us

that the kitten couldn't stay,

unless it had a litter box

to "duty" in today?

We love you for your kindness,

and we've found the perfect place...

Our kitty likes to "duty"

in your open leather case!

As memory recalls, it wasn't the best of nights. But "Cleopatra" eventually would become a family member, loved by all... well, almost all. ;)