Stop

Stop

By: Mary Westberg

Nov 30, 2011

Crowded stores , last minute shopping

Things to make and go and do

Shipping, decorating, wrapping

Baking cookies , just a few.

People say to stop and smell

The roses when they are in bloom

Yet forget to stop and smell the

Pine tree in their living room.

We get  wrapped up in the noise

Of Jingle bells and Santa’s call

We forget to listen to the

One who’s birth began it all.

Take a minute, take an hour

Close your eyes and breathe it in.

Feel the stillness of the season

Let the peacefulness begin.

Comparing

As a mom, sometimes it's hard not to compare with other moms and their families, at least for me it is. I see other kids who have more of the latest and greatest than my kids do and I feel bad. As a parent you want to be able to provide your children with all that they desire. You want them to be happy and fit in with their friends. You want so much for them that even on an unlimited salary, it's almost impossible. So, I've decided to list the things that I do provide for them and it made me feel a whole lot better.

1. They have a home to go to to escape all the craziness of the world.

2. They have loving parents who are there for them to listen and guide them.

3. They have sufficient food, shelter and clothes to wear.

4. They are blessed with the gospel in their lives to guide them through tough times.

5. They have each other. Even though they drive themselves crazy sometimes, they also enjoy playing and fooling around and will always have the best of friends in their sisters and brother.

6. They are generally happy most of the time. Yeah, they might fight and argue occasionally, but they do not have major life problems to deal with such as having abusive or neglectful parents.

7. They are all very smart and independent.

8. They all have an awesome sense of humor which helps out, especially in tough times.

During this time of Thanksgiving I would be remiss if I did not express my gratitude for having been blessed with such awesome children and the things that I AM able to provide for them.

Wallow

I used to wallow in self-pity,

wallow sink and drown.

From where I sat, there couldn't be

a sadder life around.

No one I knew was punished,

made to suffer just like me.

I often played the role of tortured

victim to a tee.

Then, suddenly, one day I stood

and washed off all the mud

of misery and no esteem.

It was nothing but crud.

I realized I was the one

who made my life so sad.

I could no longer blame it on

experience I'd had.

I let the misery flow down,

then walked out of my pen.

I vowed that I would never let

it weigh me down again.

My life did not get easier,

in fact it's now more full.

Though, full, I see with open eyes

my life is beautiful.

Sesame Street and Teenage Boys

Sesame Street and Teenage Boys

By: Mary Westberg

November16, 2011

Elmo singing ABCs

Cries of ," Mom, he now hates me!"

Adding numbers, singing songs

Teaching them that hitting's wrong.

Changing diapers, checking grades

Cleaning up the messes made.

Could be Cheerios or mud,

Marker on the wall or blood.

Having sit downs with my son

communicating one on one.

Things he says widen my eyes.

I give advice I hope is wise.

It's so bizzare being a mom

to ages of fourteen to one.

Diversity is my forte'

I'd not have it another away.



Pretty

Last night at my writer's group I attempted to write a story. It wasn't a fiction story or anything, just a story of something that happened to me when I was five. I got all good comments on it, but it just didn't feel right to me. I'm not good at writing stories. I'm not good at describing scenes and smells and all that. I don't know how to make things pretty with words like some people do. I guess I got envyous and wanted to try. But my experience reminded of an episode of ,"Two Broke Grils" A waitress made homemade cupcakes and someone told her that they were not pretty enough. So she worked for hours, as I did, trying to make one pretty. She finally did it, but also realized that she doesn't "do" pretty. She likes her cupcakes the way they are. I don't do pretty either. I write poetry and comment on life's messes, which are usually anything but pretty.

I will now share with you the story I wrote, with all the "pretty" parts taken out....

When I was five years old I didn't know how to tie my shoes. My mom had tried teaching me, but we both got impatient with the process. One day, in kindergarten, I was sitting, trying to listent to my teacher tell a story, but I kept getting distracted. It was a boring story. I noticed my shoe was untied.

At home, when I needed my shoe tied I put my shoe on my mom's knee and she tied it. So that's just what I did. I put my dirty tennis shoe on my teacher's clean, white pants knee so she could tie my shoe. She screamed and yelled at me. I got so embarrased from her screaming and everyone laughing that I ran and hid under a table.

That's it. No frill. Just the facts, ma'am.