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Forgive me a little bragging about my mother’s day presents.

They may not look like much, but as with people, what’s inside holds the most importance.

 

Let’s open the book first.  I read once that Jackie Kennedy had her children hand-copy and illustrate a poem every year for her birthday.  These she kept in a scrapbook.  I’ve never been a big Jackie fan—her affected whisper suggests manipulative tendencies—-but she did shine in tragedy and motherhood.  Fortunately it’s only her character in the latter state that I’ve had cause to imitate, so nine years ago I asked my children to start a poetry book for me.

 

Some years the book sits dormant.  Then one of them will remember the project and I’ll get the lovely surprise I did last Sunday.  Here’s a page from this year:

When I asked Lizzie why she chose this poem, she said she loves “crazy Ruth Stone.” But I suspect she also loves the word “orifices.”

 

Sometimes the kids write an original poem.  (My son has found cause to rhyme “great mother” and “Dad’s lover.”)  Here’s the first part of an original poem written in the book this Mother’s Day:

Yes, you read that right.  “She waddled and pushed.”  Might be good on my tombstone.

 

The rest of the poem is too personal to include here.  But I will mention (bragging again) that the structure is not only intricate, it’s color-coded too.

 

The Twinings tea box rattled when shaken.  I couldn’t imagine what was inside.  Really I couldn’t, could never, because here’s the contents:

 

Aren’t they wonderful?  Now I have to come up with a creative plan to use them.  If you have any ideas, or if you want one, let me know.

 

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