the things kids write

I was the luckiest little girl in the world. My parents were amazing. One of my favorite things about my awesome parents was their creative parenting style - especially when it came to punishments. The most common infraction in our house (5 of their 6 children were girls) was cat fighting. Sometimes they would make my sister and I balance together on a tiny popcorn tin for 15 minutes (this usually ended in laughter). Other times they would separate us and make us write poems containing 5 nice things (or reasons we love our sister) before we could come out. I have a very specific memory of being stuck in our Finley drive bathroom writing a poem for Dawn. This particular exercise planted a seed in me - a need to express myself on paper when I am emotional. When I was a teenager, I was very emotionally charged - dramatic is almost an understatement. I would write my mother notes when I was mad or felt I was suffering from some injustice. One time I wrote out this entire verse from one of my favorite hymns: "Who am I to judge another, when I walk imperfectly..."

I secretly think my mom enjoyed the letters I gave her. She always said that although I was trouble, I was still very fun and enjoyable - I think it was because I left her gems like this:
I left this on her bed one day. My mom caught me and some friends being stupid 13 year-olds. This is so mean. I have such a sharp tongue. I am glad my mom knew I still loved her. I am glad she kept this so I could see and remember what a drama queen I was at 13. I am glad she was able to laugh at this - not in a cruel way, but in a sweet motherly way that understood that I was just a stupid teenager doing stupid teenager things.

Writing has since become my therapy; after writing my emotions in a song, poem or letter, I gain new perspective, and emerge with a new ability to cope or understand. I don't write hate letters anymore. Joe would claim that I write hate songs now, but I also write love songs, and I don't keep the really mean ones. ;) I am glad my parents were able to find the humor in my teenage, over-emotional, snake-tongued self.

My mother was a saint. I am not.

I know I am in for a wild ride with my children. Here is a sampling of some of their most recent writings:

Aaron:
The other day, rather than finishing his math homework, Aaron decided to protest. He didn't yell or stamp his feet - he simply turned over the worksheet and wrote me this note:
Oh my...

Charity:
She is dramatic like her mother. Sometimes, time-outs don't help her calm down. This did:
I wonder if my kids will be like me...
I am so excited to see the things they will write! ;)