Posts filed under ‘Letters to My Kids’
Happy Mother’s Day!
Happy Mother’s Day!
* Love your family and your children, they are a gift from God.
* Remember your ancestors and those who walked before you, their prayers, work and love is the foundation for our lives.
* Thank God, our Heavenly Father, for we are His workmanship, made in His image. Our very lives, this world and everything in it is a manifestation of His great love.
Happy Mother’s Day to my children, I know we can’t be together but I love you very much, and pray that God will keep bring us together again. On that wonderful day we will be dancing, singing and getting merry like Christmas.
My children, I love you. I thank God for you everyday.
And to Grandma Dee, you have always been like a guardian angel in my life… My son is named after you. Everytime I hear the Blind Boys of Alabame sing “Mother Pray”, I think of you. You are deeply loved, rest in peace.
In Our Hearts, 2010.
“Mother Pray”
American Spiritual
How sweet and happy seem those days of which I dream
Memories I recall now and then
And with a rapture sweet my weary heart would beat
If I could hear my mother pray again
If I could only hear my mother pray again
If I could hear her tender voice as then
How happy I would be
It would mean so much to me
If I could hear my mother pray again
Around the old homeplace her cherishing smiling face
Was always bringing comfort joy and cheer
And when she used to sing to her eternal King
It was the sound I loved to hear
If I could only hear my mother pray again
If I could hear her tender voice as then
How happy I would be
It would mean so much to me
If I could hear my mother pray again
If I could hear my mother pray again
If I could hear my mother pray again
The 51st State: Vomit (Cute Kid Story)
Cute Kid Story:
My daughter is doing her school homework and looking at a map. She says to me, “Mommy look there is a state called Vomit!”
I look at the map, and see she is pointing at Vermont.
Gotta love kids!
In Our Hearts, 2010
LOLA AND THE SWEET POTATO PIE (A Villanelle)
When early morning cooking begins, Lola’s on the prowl
Across a cold floor is the click-clack of four spotted feet
Sniff, sniff…Lola’s tummy begins to growl
Morsel dropped on the floor, a sticky trail Lola will follow
Turkey, pie, stuffing and other tasty treat….
When early morning cooking begins, Lola’s on the prowl
Begging for just one bite, Lola will howl
Yummm… Thanksgiving dinner is almost complete
Sniff, sniff…Lola’s tummy begins to growl
Drool forms at her fuzzy jowl
The sweet potato pie never looked more sweet
When early morning cooking begins, Lola’s on the prowl
Lola jumps on the counter, Mommy’s face is crumpled in a scowl
Slurp slurp, Lola lunges for pie and meat
Sniff, sniff…Lola’s tummy begins to growl
The moon rose in the dark sky, in a lonely tree sits an owl
We are all hungry, there is not a bite left to eat
When early morning cooking begins, Lola’s on the prowl
Sniff, sniff…Lola’s tummy begins to growl
In Our Hearts, © 2009
Happy Thanksgiving from Our Family to Yours!
This is based on a favorite family story, when our Dalmatian, Lola, ate the sweet potato pie that I baked for Thanksgiving. I spent hours baking the pie, and sweetened it with chai only to have it completely destroyed when Lola jumped on the counter, both paws around the pie, and slurped it all up!!!
Curled Up with a Family Story:A Review of “Momma. Where Are You From?” by Marie Bradby
Title: “Momma, Where Are You From?”
Genre: Children’s (Ages 5-12), Afro-American Fiction
Author: Marie Bradby
Illustrator: Chris K. Soentpiet
Publisher: Orchard Books, New York: New York. 2000.
“We can travel roads in my memory…”
I absolutely love “Momma, Where Are You From?”. This book gives life and color to Black history, its rich traditions in American life and beckons the reader to remember their own stories…and pass them down.
“Momma. Where Are You From?” is not read like a book—it quickly envelopes you until you forget the pages beneath your fingers, and feel like you are curled up on “Momma’s” lap, hearing the family stories.
Momma’s stories circle the events of her life—growing up in a small town, shelling beans for dinner, facing discrimination during the Jim Crow era, and finally sitting on the porch with her daughter, sharing memories. “Momma, Where Are Your From?” is particularilly powerful in that it gives the message that our stories are worth telling, and that our children will cherish and grow from our memories.
Combined with the stories, the illustrations are beautiful, no detail is missed; each picture in itself imparts a story. There is history within these pictures—the segregated schoolhouse, the children doing domestic labor to help make ends meet, the family gathering to listen to music and share a meal. These are stories we can all relate to—the wondering “Where are you from?” and how the answer inevitably connects the past to the paths of our own lives.
I highly recommend “Momma, Where Are You From?” It is a dignified retelling of Black history and also a vivid portrayal of the struggles, joys and faces of family.
In Our Hearts, 2009.
LINKS:
Marie Bradby’s Site: http://www.mariebradby.com/
Chirs Soentpiet: “Momma, Where Are You From?” Include Activities to do with your children when reading this book.
http://www.soentpiet.com/mama.htm
The Lively Circus: A Day in the Life of a Single Mom
“God can jumpstart any battery!”—Pastor Moore
As a single mom, I have learned that an ordinary day can quickly become a lively circus.
I begin the morning tripping over Nora’s toys; my son D.P.’s shirt is growing moldy on the bathroom floor… Cheetah Girls are bumpin’ in the CD player. As I reach for my cup of coffee on the counter I unexpectedly slip across the kitchen floor. A shimmering pink surface of Wonder Bubbles was invisible until I am ice-skating across ceramic tile! My children are laughing at my wild antics, arms and legs flailing. Both children are pouring Wonder Bubbles into a toy with a built-in fan that was made to shoot plastic balls into the air. My kitchen is boogie wonderland, with bubbles flying in all directions.
I sigh, add maple syrup to my coffee. Raooow!My children are squaring off at the table. My daughter is bouncing in her chair, squealing, “Jelly face! Jelly face!” D.P. crosses his arms over his chest, glaring at his little sister. He ate a croissant with blackberry jam that is now smeared on both sides of his face like sideburns. I do my best to regain my composure, while holding my sides, “Honey, you have jam all over your face—go look in the mirror. You really are a jelly face. And I’m a jelly belly all full of these rolls!” Tension is released as quickly as it comes, in peals of laughter. My son runs to the mirror to inspect his new look. He “shaves” blackberry sideburns with one finger, running it across his face then licking it clean. Just as I am about to relax, I glance at the clock—we have to move if we want to be on time for church!
Coffee half gone, better top it off. I ask D.P. to hand me the syrup and next thing I know he is dumping the bottle in my cup! My coffee has turned to sticky maple sludge. I breathe a sigh of relief when both kids are finally out the door. As I am locking the door, Nora is running down the hall, waddling like a duck. She has decided to my sandals, obviously too big for her small feet, proudly asking her beloved big brother, “Am I cool?” With each step she is loudly flopping against the pavement. Not even halfway down the block, we see our bus pass by.
I grit my teeth…then look across the street at my neighbor’s beautiful yard. Pastel flowers greet my eye from afar. Thick bushes in radiant shades of emerald shine in the sun. Marigolds gather beneath the bushes, lining a cobbled path. My children and I stop over to say “hi”. The beautiful Himalyan cat with ice blue eyes purrs at our feet then rolls on the sidewalk, begging to have his back scratched. The children are fond of the cat and dash to the ground, ready to indulge. When we leave, both children resemble the Abomidible Snowman of the Himalayas, shaggy with cat hair and neat church clothes now rumpled. They couldn’t be happier, racing down the sidewalk towards the bus.
My children and I arrive at church and are greeted with hugs. When Pastor Moore begins to sing, my son is excited to play the “shaker” he made in school—two Styrofoam plates decorated with banners made of crepe paper. Inside the plates is dry rice. My daughter accompanies him, shaking a penguin shaped tambourine. Pastor’s bellowing voice fills the chapel, “…You’ve got to move, But when the good Lord gets ready, you’ve got to move…” It takes but a moment for my daughter to dash from the pew, to the front of the chapel. Once reaching the front, she begins to dance. Pastor, an imposing man standing well over 6 feet tall, with hands the size of bear paws, gently takes hers small hands in his. Together they dance. My daughter stands barely the height of Pastor’s knees but excitement keeps her steps in time. My son raises his shaker, cheering loudly. This is a memory I will always cherish.
As a single mom, I have learned that an ordinary day can quickly become a lively circus. I have learned how to be the juggling bear—balancing work, children and long bus rides. The ringmaster keeping everything in order. The clown indulging my children in stories or play. And my favorite—the magician, awaiting a surprise.
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Children, I thank God everyday that he blessed me to be your “Mommy”. I love you from the top of your head to the tips of your toes… (you finish the rest)…
xoxoxo Mommy xoxoxo
In Our Hearts, ⓒ 2008.
The Wacky Villian: A Silly Story
“In Our Hearts” was created a to not only preserve family history but to also create a platform for individual family members to share their lives, and what is important to them. This way family members can learn more about each other, and we can create a lasting memorial to be enjoyed now and by future generations. My son, D.P. wrote this story as a contribution to the blog.
“The Wacky Villian”
Mr. Wackypants the Burglar has just gotten out of jail after robbing a bank, he made off with $20,000–all in rolls of pennies. Mr. Wackypants was caught after using the bus as a getaway. It took 10 minutes to dump all those pennies in the meter. A really smart boy named DP figured out something was wrong and alerted the driver to the strange passenger who wore a polka dot clown suit with a black mask across his eyes. The driver pushed the emergency button near his seat, calling for help. Mr. Wackypants tried to run away. DP jumped over the seat, then grabbed Mr. Wackypant’s leg and bit him as hard as he could. Mr, Wackypants screamed so loud that he alerted Underdog, who has a nose for helping people.
When Underdog saw the bank robber, and the little boy who was trying to stop him, he sprang into action. Underdog punched Mr. Wackypants, knocking out several teeth as well as all the polka dots on his clown suit. Mr. Wackypants fell to the the ground in a daze. Not soon after the police came, and threw him in jail.
After spending 12 years in jail, Mr. Wackypants vowed he would never get caught again. He would rob another bank–this time by climbing on the outside of the building, and sneaking through a window rather than taking a chance of being caught during a hold-up (where a very smart 7 year old boy may try to stop him). Mr, Wackypants waited, very excited, until the darkest of night to pull off the heist. He crept towards the bank building, with super glue on a special gloves so he would be able to crawl up very high. Mr. Wackypants pries open a window and creeps into the bank. He finds a broomstick to defend himself with. He heads towards the vault, hoping he is well disguised in his polka dot clown suit. Wackypants nears the vault and then realizes he doesn’t have the code, and can’t get it! So he hits the vault with broomstick…over and over and over again. Nothing happens. Mr. Wackypants hits harder, this time sounding an alarm. Before he can get away, a super hero dog named Underdog flies through the open window and pounces on Mr. Wackypants. Underdog lifts his leg and pees on Mr. Wackypants, trapping him inside a stinky web. Mr. Wackypants slips on the puddle of pee, unable to get away. Using his super radio, Underdog signals the police who nab Mr. Wackypants–again!
Mr.Wackypants is now in jail, dreaming of escape but so long as Underdog is here justice will be done.
THE END
by D. Poet and Mommy , 6/9/2008
©2008
More about Underdog on Disney:
https://movies.disney.com/underdog
Wackypants in Jail
The Honey Web
By My Daughter (age 4) and Mommy, 12/27/2007
Once upon a time a bear was being mean to a unicorn. The bear was trying to eat her (unicorn). The unicorn is a pet to a beautiful true princess. The true princess wanted to save her unicorn so she poured honey on a spider web. The bear was hungry for some honey, and ran to the spider web. He fell on the spider web and then he got stuck.
He says, “Please let me out! Cuz I’m gonna be nice!”
True princess said, “I can’t let you out because you being mean.”
So the true princess threw the bear into the sky, where he is to this day, still caught in the honey web. Only at night can you see the bear, when the golden web glimmers in the dark. True princess and the unicorn are so happy to be free that they go eat ice cream. The end.
In Our Hearts, ©2007
Halloween Memories – The Dance Contest (2007)
Hello Friends and Family,
I hope everyone had a safe and fun Halloween.
To me, it is now strange to go trick-or-treating and see these houses, all lit up, with jack-o-lanterns and decorations, and excited parents gushing over the costumes of kids knocking on the door. That was once my life too…before I became homeless. The Halloween decorations were one of many things I lost after I fled an abusive relationship, and lost all of my possessions, in a matter of minutes in order to seek safety for myself and my children. My family was couch surfing, sleeping in our van, and staying in shelters for several months. There was no one to help and no place to go.I desperately searched the phone books, randomly calling phone numbers seeking a place to go…and that way found a transitional housing program that we were accepted into. Transitional housing means that you will get a temporary place to stay, and support from an advocate, while you seek permanent housing.
Now, as I stand on the doorstep, watching my daughter yell “Trick or Treat!” in an excited voice, the feeling of having nowhere to go, and not belonging to anywhere is so strong. I see the warm glow of lights emanating from within these homes, but relate more to when the door closes, the darkness, the footsteps into the unknown. That is homeless. The state of once having a home, once belonging in the warm and then being forced into the darkness, the cold.
This night, Nora and I went to 5 Halloween events, a community dinner and trick-or-treating. Nora dressed up as a “true princess” and wore one of my dresses. The dress is antique white and lacy with a full skirt, on Nora it looks like a wedding gown. I have fond memories of that dress because I wore it the time I visited family in Birmingham. I love old dresses and costume jewelry; playing “princess” with Nora and dressing up is so fun!
The best part of the night was when Nora entered the dance contest at the local community center. There were several kids in the contest, all dancing to loud Hip-Hop music. Nora kicked off her purple, high heels to join in. DP gave the shoes to Nora for her birthday because they look like Cinderella’s glass slippers. The vote was decided by applause and no one really knew Nora, so she didn’t get any cheer besides my wild antics. Nora did ballet leaps. She even down on the floor, and spun in a circle break dance style. When the judging got came down to two kids, Nora was not even considered.
Then Nora put all her focus into the music, she was not about to be voted out! She danced in figure eight circles around both kids–walk it out! She twirled to the floor and back up again. Her feet were kicking in the air like throwing stars. Her hands were so graceful, dipping and swaying. She had this smile on her face of confidence. The DJ could not help but to notice Nora–the other kids stopped dancing to watch (and they were older!). The room broke out in applause. Nora received the most applause then won the contest. She was awarded a squeaky flower toy–and my heart.
I hope you are all enjoying your holidays. Sending love and prayers to all ❤
In Our Hearts, © 2007.
Update: My family was. eventually able to seure permanent housing…but that is another story…
Thank-you for reading “In Our Hearts”. I look forward to sharing more stories, not only my own, but others from the Fort, Ford and related branches of family as well. If you would like to contribute, please leave a comment (your info will be kept confidential) and I will contact you with more information.
Public Domain Picture: https://wallpaperplay.com/
A Dreamer’s Journey (Photography)
Job 33:4, “The Spirit of the God made me and the breath of the Almighty has given me life.”
The footprint in this picture was made after Nora was born ()-:)
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In Our Hearts: A Family Tribute & Scrapbook 