Not an excuse

Life has been stressful
Life has been busy
Some family drama,
Relative in a tizzy.

Road trip from hell,
Through rain, night and snow,
Exhausted my spirit,
Made me feel low.

Sorting through my
Deceased relative's junk.
Has left me depressed
Trapped in a funk.

Purging my house,
Throwing out clutter,
Cleaning and sorting,
With the help of my mother.

All the above saps
My poetic motivation.
Stressed out and run down,
With no concentration.

I pray for serenity,
Exercise assists,
One thing at a time,
I cross off my lists.

Now I can sleep,Since I sat down and wrote,
Some time to myself,
I can devote.

Before the Chaos

All the boys are upstairs
Snuggled in their beds,
Perhaps dreams of truck and cars,
Swirling in their heads.
I'm downstairs, all alone.
With a coffee, brewed intense.
Sun-dappled curtains are my view.
I'm savouring the silence.

The Third Weds of Every Month Stinks.

Husband late meeting
Single parenting bedtime
Phew! Both are asleep.

My Simple Wish

My wish is not for a castle,
Perched on cliffs above the sea,
Or for a vine wrapped cottage,
Oh so quaint and twee.
I do not need a mansion,
Be it grand and palatial,
Or a remote country estate,
With fields so green and spacial.
I do not wish for hoards of gold,
Or diamonds, sparkling bright,
Navy sapphires, or black onyx
That gleams as dark as night.
I do not need gleaming opals,
Or rubies, deep cerise.
All I want is the kids to can it,
So I can poop in peace.

Excuses.

March 8th would have been my Dad's 61st birthday.  I wanted to write something, but my baby got the stomach flu.  Today, he alternately slept or was clingy, while my 2.5 year old was hyper and tantrumy, apparently feeling a little neglected as I snuggled his sick brother.  So all I have is this sorry excuse for a haiku:

Thursday, March the eighth
Dad would have been sixty-one
A very sad day.

I will endeavor to write something better tomorrow.

Tantrums Today.

Some days I want wine,
Some days I want beer,
Some days champagne,
A glass lifted in cheer.

Some days I want Bailey's
Or Kahlua in milk,
Or a nice Cuban rum
Or something of that ilk.

I love a tequila,
Añejo and gold
A sunrise, a margarita,
Or a shot if I'm bold.

A nice Irish whiskey
Could spike up my java,
And burn on the way down,
Like delicious lava.

But I've responsibilities,
This I can not refute.
Not to mention a tolerance,
That's extra minute.

Once the kids are in bed,
I can partake, see,
A half-glass of wine,
Will intoxicate me.

Bittersweet

As I watch my child
Explore his world,
On legs strong and steady,
My heart aches,
He grows so quick,
Faster than I'm ready.
His eyes are bright,
His hands dexterous,
His grin is quite the beam,
My helpless baby,
From newborn days,
Seems an illusion or a dream.
I love to see
My children grow
They are so bright and clever,
And yet still,
I softly mourn
As my babes are gone forever.

Cheerios and Fear

I went to spin this morning with my SIL.  My husband was nice enough to watch not only our kids, but SIL's kids as well.  I received a text right as class was starting: "The house smells of Cheerios and fear."  It made me laugh, and inspired this poem.

The house smells of Cheerios and fear,
As five young children now are here.
My husband was left alone,
With these five offspring in our home.
Nephew, nephew, sons and niece,
Looks like there will be no peace.
Five and one and two and three,
Just nine months for one that's wee.
Mom and Auntie have gone spinning,
Sweating, working, puffing, grinning.
Spin was great, my legs did burn,
As I made my pedals turn.
Afterwards, we made a stop,
At the local coffee shop.
Arriving home, the kids were fine,
There hadn't been excess of whine,
And more important: Dan was okay
He had handled fine the fray.
I know that he was apprehensive,
And his morning was intensive,
But while he may have found it stressful,
We will call the day successful!

Valentine's Ode

Yeah, it's cheesy. 

Of Valentine's, I am not a fan,
But my husband is a romantic man.
He buys me treats, gifts for the boys,
Little chocolates or tiny toys.
He cooks me food, a delicious dish,
Doesn't care if I wear pants with fish.
Puts up with my morning crank,
Before my coffee's made and drank.
When I feel fat, he says I'm pretty
He sometimes thinks my jokes are witty.
When I have angry old man face,
He helps it out with an embrace.
He's also a terrific father,
Our sons are not to him a bother,
Instead, they give him great delight,
(Maybe slightly less in the dark of night)
Every day, I feel so blessed.
(Though from this poem, you may have guessed)
I am lucky to have found this man,
Happy Valentine's Day to my Dan.

Not my best effort.

Today I wanted to write something silly,
About some kind of food, maybe tacos with chile,
My bright yellow grapefruit, my chocolate cranberries,
Or delicious and creamy tubs of Ben and Jerry's.

Instead, this morning, I had quite a start,
A small incident that frightened my heart,
My wee little baby, of only months nine,
(and, don't worry!  He really is fine!)
While I was folding my big laundry jumble,
He found some stairs, and took quite a tumble.
We have a half bath, down stairs numbered four,
The bathroom has a sliding pocket-type door.

We have a gate on the stairs at the top,
Baby falls it's designed to stop.
My husband was downstairs, you can guess why,
And it seems that the gate was slightly awry,
It was shaken by a boy who is two,
When it was open, he promptly went through.
I heard a "Hi Bud!" and quickly looked over,
To see a wee babe try to follow his brother.
As he crawled through the gate, his hand landed on air,
And end-over-end he fell down the stairs.

I yelled a bad word, and leapt to my wee guy,
Who was rather startled, and starting to cry.
I managed to calm him, but my heart was racing,
He was already happy, while I was him embracing.
I talked to my older, and I tried to convey,
That he wasn't in trouble, and Bubs was okay,
But the gate needed to be closed, I spoke to his frown,
So that his little brother wouldn't fall down.

My baby is fine, and he soon was playing,
I am sure my hair has a lot more greying.
So my poem today is not about food,
And the rhyming is not very good.
Hopefully, tomorrow, I can be more fun,
And now this terrible poem here is done.

This was supposed to be funnier.

This started out as a goofy poem about the last day of "vacation".  (I put vacation in quotes as traveling with two small children is not a vacation.)  It turned out rather over-dramatic and melancholy.  But, I made a deal with myself to publish what I write daily, no matter how crummy...so TA DA!

Last full day in BC,
Tomorrow I will go
To Alberta, where I live,
And its icy frozen snow.

My heart is torn in two, it seems,
One half here abides.
Parents, lake and mountains,
Wishes here we could reside.

When I arrive, by plane or car,
I feel it in my bones.
My spirit and the land connect,
I know that I am home.

But instead, I've built a life
1000 kilometres away
I married an Alberta boy,
And there he'd like to stay.

I have a house and family there,
My boys have lots of kin.
I've made my home, and embraced the life,
I know that I fit in.

I love the life I have conceived,
My friends and neighbourhood.
I am blessed in so many ways,
My life there is good.

And yet...as my plane leaves the ground
My heart will heavy weigh.
I know that my bones will ache.
I know my soul will yearn to stay.

How 2011 Sucked.

This one is long, and is my first draft.  I have not proof-read or edited, so there may be errors.  It was hard enough to write.  There may be a final draft in the future, or this may be the only purge.  All these things actually happened to me in 2011.  I did leave out the 3 other instances of the stomach flu, one when I was 40 weeks pregnant, just my 18 month old got it (try changing crib sheets while that pregnant), and one episode in Nov. and one in Dec.  
Seriously, this year bit.

I don't want to sound
Rude, mean or crass,
But two thousand and eleven,
Sucked major ass.

37 weeks pregnant,
Too far along to fly,
I get a phone call
That my Grandpa might die.

April 20th was one good day,
Filled with lots of joy,
I finally gave birth
To a healthy, happy boy.

April 28th,
My sister calls and picks a fight,
She wants to come see Grandpa
And is trying to book a flight.

That evening, the news comes.
Grandpa is no more.
He has passed away
At the age of ninety-four.

The service was held in May,
On the day twenty-two,
The day before I flew down,
My older son got the flu.

I left a barfing 18-month old
At home with his dad
And flew with my one month old
While feeling rather sad.

The service was beautiful,
With relatives to see,
But as I got home exhausted,
The flu also struck me!

My husband was also sick,
And my sister came to stay,
She was to fly back to England,
On the next Friday.

Instead, drama and chaos!
Rather than returning,
To her husband of 8 short months,
Her marriage she was spurning.

We moved her out of our small house,
She moved in with an ex.
We thought we had a breather now,
Oh but what comes next?

June 24th, I am home
And at naptime hear a thumping,
From the basement, but just think
The cats are maybe bumping.

My husband comes home from work,
I take older son outside,
I come back in and he has to tell me,
That my one cat has died.

Bailey was only 13,
His death was quite a blow,
We do not know why he died,
And will probably never know.

My baby boys are wonderful,
And they brings me cheer,
They are my little rays of light,
In this crapfest of a year. 

Oh but wait, there's more!
The year is only halfway through.
And as you will soon see,
The sorrows did accrue.

The year before, an ultrasound,
During my pregnancy,
Discovered a dermoid cyst
On my right ovary.

The cyst was 7 cm,
And I opted to wait,
Until my baby had been born
Before my surgery date. 

They tried to book my surgery,
For the 18th of July,
But my baby was too little,
So that wasn't going to fly.

I was scared of the procedure,
Never had surgery abdominal,
And I was afraid the pain and recovery,
Would be quite abominable.

My new date was set
For October twenty-one.
I cannot say the experience,
Was really super fun.

I made it through the surgery,
Had a good recovery.
So I took the boys to see my parents,
In lovely BC.

The last full day, a Wednesday,
November twenty-three,
7:50 AM, a phone call
And it's my husband for me?

I ask him why he's calling
I joke with him "Who died?"
And when he gives the answer,
Something broke inside.

The answer was my father,
His age was sixty years,
And I began grieving,
Shedding lots of tears.

Sorrow and confusion,
It also was apparent,
There was anger over him cheating my boys
Out of a grandparent.

Many days of darkness,
But I began to fight,
I had to be here for my kids,
My shining beams of light.

So, 2011,
Thank you for my son.
He is wonderous and precious,
But I am glad you're done.

Kiss my ass, you stupid year.
I'm happy you are through.
A better year will be this one.
Two thousand, ten plus two.

Fire

Yesterday, I witnessed a fire.  It is not something I feel like writing a happy, rhyming poem about, so instead I will tell the story.

I got the boys to the table for lunch, and went to use the washroom.  When I came out, I noticed what looked like fog out my back windows.  That seemed weird to me, since it has previously been a fairly nice day out.  I went to look out my back door for a closer look, and realised it was smoke.

How close the fire was to my house, about 100m.

My house has a back alley, and behind that is a creek with a walking path.  On the other side of the path is a townhouse complex, of duplexes and fourplexes.  The smoke was coming from one of the duplex units, and I could see flames by the bottom of the house.

I called 911, and asked for fire.  She asked where it was, and I named my town.  She named the street, and I confirmed, and she said they were already on their way, but thank you for calling.  We hung up, and I watched the fire.  Fire engines arrived.

Smoke obscuring the fire

I took some pictures and video, and sent my husband a BBM with a picture and the message "One of the townhouses behind us is on fire"  Because I didn't punctuate it, or add any emoticons, he thought I was being awfully casual.

The smell was horrid.  When I first went outside to take pictures, the roar of the fire was amazing.  I had no idea it would be so loud.  It is also impossible to describe - like a sucking roar sound.

In between watching the fire, I was also trying to get lunch into two little boys.  My two-year-old kept wanting to watch with me, and my 8-month-old was mad because we kept "deserting" him in his chair to watch the fire.

I could see the firefighters spraying from the front of the house, and a ladder truck with a bucket set up on the back of the house.  I kept trying to get pictures that showed the flames on the roof, and then I would feel horrible.  A family's home was being detroyed, and I was trying to get better shots of it?

The side is destroyed and the roof is in flames.

The firefighters had things under control in about an hour, and I could see the house was reduced to a shell.  The roof is almost completely gone.

Roof still smouldering

News reports indicate no one was home, and there were no injuries.  Thank goodness.

The remains

 

I took this standing on my back deck.  At the end you can hear me making a noise as I inhaled smoke.  I had to go inside at that point to avoid it. My house smelled like campfire all afternoon.

I hope these people are able to get back on their feet quickly.  I am glad no one was home or hurt.


I have been counting my blessings, which are many.