Destiny

Dear Children, 


When I was little my daddy assured me that when I grew up I would turn into a boy. That all little girls grew up to be boys and all little boys turned into girls. Now, with a nostalgic twinkle and gentle smile, he tells of my response. 

 I wailed.

 "When I grow up I want to be a mamma!"


I have always wanted to be a mamma. To have a house full of kids, running and laughing and playing is my idea of bliss. The joy and open mouthed wonder a two year old has at the first sight of a ladybug makes me feel a resurgence of life in my own heart. Watching the lightbulb flicker and then burst into brilliance above a child's head when they figure out that they are READING! Really, truly, absolutely READING for the first time makes my heart swell and out bubbles blissful laughter. Hearing two siblings, who have been mortal enemies for years, now quietly visiting and gently playing have me quietly wiping thankful tears.


This is what I have always longed for.


The long nights of post surgery births, the painful pull of stitches, the bumps of excited brothers looking at the new baby brought joy to my spirit. Here was a new life; full of wonder and love and delight to share.


Endless dirty bottles, always smelling of spit up, blown out diapers; put in the proper place of context were just a momentary hardship. 


Temper tantrums, lies, spilled milk; were the training ground for the future battles I would face.


Personalities, temperaments, learning styles; all unique, never duplicated in other siblings made me learn to adapt and be flexible, stretching me in ways I never expected.


Research, racking my brain and stretching my resources, searching for the answer to what was wrong in hearts and minds has been duly rewarded with progress and change. That filled me with hope. Lessons learned through the hardest of times carry me on still today.


You children have shaped me. Changed me. Filled me up and wrung me out. You make me laugh. Weep. Scream. You challenge my mind. You stretch my heart. 


And I wouldn't change it all for anything.


Love forever, 
Mom

The Family Court

Dear Plaintiffs:

It has recently come to my attention that I have been accused of crimes against you, my two younger sisters. Your complaints have been include in this official* court document.

*official, as  this is officially my blog and I can pretty much say whatever I want...

I have been accused of laughing in delight when people think that I am the younger of the sisters. My response may have been immature but was not meant to be malicious in any way. I don't care what you told mom, "neener neener" is not technically a mean word.

It is my opinion that the statute of limitations has passed for the following list of your accusations;

ripping off ears of special stuffed rabbits, slamming doors in faces (or quickly sliding it shut, depending on what era you are referring to), ignoring requests to play, tattling, not showing you my super cool stuff, general teasing, and being too cool to even look at you. 

If it pleases the court, I ask that all charges of face making, tongue protruding, and forty crow giving be stricken from the record.

 In addition I would ask that my record be forever expunged of the charges of my using clever and witty words to "torment" said siblings. I ask the prosecuting parties to supply actual proof that I meant harm when I allegedly hid the plaintiff's eyeglasses in the cupboard with the drinking glasses and, to quote the plaintiff's petition in Wren v. Lark, "teased her, saying that she could find them where glasses are supposed to be". 

I also ask for consideration in the case of Robyn v. Lark, where I allegedly called her dog a canine and her cow a bovine, in a "singsongy" voice, implying that it was a bad thing. I call into question her interpretation of those events. I will argue that I was merely attempting to teach her the proper nomenclature of said pets. 

But for my final argument I would like to remind the court of Blood v. Water. That case has set the precedent for all future cases. Blood won that short court battle and forever stilled the argument that siblings may be convicted for alleged "crimes" against siblings and other family members. I believe that this case firmly follows in the precedent set forth by Blood v. Water as all alleged pranks, mischievousness, and teasing fall under the "no harm no foul clause".

 Or in the case of Robyn and Wren v. Lark, the 

"no harm no fowl clause". 

With mostly sincere sincerity and truly profoundly profound apologies,

The Defendant (aka Lark)

Insert Eye Roll Here

Dear Mom,

Now that I am a mom of my own, I can understand why you told us certain things.

Watch for cars as you ride your bike down the street. 

Obvious.

Wash your hands before dinner.

 Of course.

Wait until your father gets home. 

Been there, said that.

You taught us so many things; 

a love of reading, learning, (for some of us) a love of the great outdoors, to love Jesus, to be witty, to rope, to laugh, to love family.

But there are a few things I still don't understand.

1. Nothing bad happens if I lift the lid while the rice is cooking. For years I was sure it would mean the imminent demise of the world as we know it. 

NOTHING HAPPENS.

2. Saying the word "fart" is acceptable in polite (ish) society. I obey when told to respect my elders and I don't want to be eaten by bears (remember when you told us that story?!). 

Because I fear for my very life, I will not publish your replacement word for that bodily function. I still remember the day I realized that 

NO ONE,

 not one other family, used your word. Probably the first time I realized I was 

weird. 

(No worries, Mom, it certainly wasn't the last time and you were not the sole reason for that state of my being. Dad helped, too.)

3. Calling someone a jerk was not allowed, but calling them a "muscle spasm" was?

4. Seriously cookies DO need the amount of sugar called for in the recipe. Yes, they do.

Whole wheat does not belong in cake.

 As much as you want to fool yourself, there was no fooling us. 

We were just desperate. So we ate them.

5. The verdict is still out on whether or not I will go to hell for dancing and playing cards. Guess we'll see whose right on that one later. 

See ya in heaven - wanna play Texas Hold 'Em there?

6. So far no one has died of typhoid from my messy bedroom. Twenty years later and it pretty much looks the same. Sorry about that.

I always thought that when I grew up I would finally understand all that you taught us. I'm all grown up. When does the Great Enlightenment finally come?

Until then I'll be perfecting my eye roll,

Lark

P.S. I used my creative license in taking or ignoring your corrections on the first draft. Whatcha gonna do about it? Spank me?

Book Gestapo

Dear Banned Book List, 


You have on your list some of our very favorite books. The kids and I have shared chapters from Huckleberry Finn, James and the Giant Peach, My Friend Flicka, and even Little Red Riding Hood.
 I was surprised to find some of my favorite books, ones I consider classics and "must reads" like To Kill a Mockingbird. And others that we have read in lit class for our schooling. Lord of the Flies, Silas Marner, and imagine my surprise to find even the Dictionary listed!


I was wondering, could we switch some of these out for a new candidate? You see, my middle son has found a new love of reading Calvin and Hobbes books. At first I didn't see any problem. At least he's wants to read, right? Begging me for a few more minutes each night seemed like a good thing. 


But, Book List, these books are dangerous.... 


They are causing a metamorphous in my little boy. It started with little phrases. I asked him to do a chore and he told me he wasn't feeling enthusiastic about that chore and he shouldn't have to do anything he didn't feel enthusiastic about. 

Classic Calvin smart mouth symptoms. 

Now my boy prays for snow so that he can make morbid snowman art in the front yard. 

By Bill Watterson

But I fear the change is almost complete. You see, now they are starting to not only sound alike and act alike but even LOOK alike.

                                

                                          Calvin

Not Calvin

Please, for the sake of my  children. Ban Calvin now. Before it's too late.

A concerned mother, 

Lark

Nostalgia

Dear Nostalgia,
I am always surprised at where you pop up. Last night was a complete side swipe of my emotions. And you are to thank for it. There I was, hanging out at Arctic Circle with my little kids, watching them play on the indoor playground. I was minding my own business. I was not festering about my oldest child's upcoming 14th birthday. I was not internally lamenting the passage of years. I was simply hanging with the littles, killing time.

And you snuck up on me. Like a cougar lying in wait for its prey. And me? I was the juicy ribeye.

You, Nostalgia, snuck in behind a cute little family with an adorable little 3 year old boy. He wasn't the spitting image of my boy-man, but.... He was wearing a little bomber jacket just like the one I had for my son at that age. And when this adorable little child turned around to tell his daddy, "Watch me! Daddy, watch me!" as he climbed up the playground like a "big" boy, I about lost it. Instantly you completely possessed me, and I flashed back to when my little boy-man was that size and would say, "Watch me, Mamma, watch me!" with excitement in his little lispy voice.

Nostalgia, I blame you for my near breakdown at Arctic Circle. It took all of my self control to not go over to those complete strangers and shout for them to treasure that moment. That moment that had just happened. Because in a flash that boy would be a boy-man and would no longer talk in a sweet little voice, but in a crackling-finding his way to being a man kind of voice. And they would miss it, that moment, and it would be gone in the passage of time and pursuit of the next milestone. And they would wish it back.

So thanks, Nostalgia, for making me fight the urge to be a crazy woman at the local burger joint. Next time could you just schedule an appointment?

Wishing for another sweet little boy moment,
Lark

Hubby O'Mine

Dear Husband,
I realize that your new iPhone is the cat's pajamas, the best thing since sliced bread. I understand that is all that and a bag of chip's too. You have loaded a bunch of apps. You have game apps, a Zippo lighter app and Finger Drums. Choosing to have the Atomic Fart app wasn't really my choice, but whatevs. 


However, I have just one thing to say to you.... Unless you can find a Wife App to replace me - you better put that thing down and pay me some attention. 


Your loving REAL LIFE WIFE, 
Lark