At the beginning of the school year, Dad told us all to write a poem which we would present to the family the following day after dinner. Well, I forgot to and quickly wrote down a few rhyming lines as Bannon, Abby, and Sophie presented their toiled over poems. Anyway, Mom found the poem in the back of her notebook today, so thought i'd share :)
The House.
The house on the hill is quite alone
far from any civilization
with pealing white paint under overgrown vines
it's hue a lonely tone.
But the house is quite happy
for it is filled with old memories
of the children who played in its walls.
Thursday, November 17, 2011
Monday, November 7, 2011
Copy and Paste
So I realize this may not be the best way to start off a blog, however, I recently completed my personal narrative, or as other high school seniors refer : The College Essay. There are still a few mistakes, but nevertheless I am proud I finally finished the essay I have been dreading the past few months. So anyway here you go :)
Muddy sneakers, Sesame Street, overfull laundry baskets, and an old green Suburban called “Maximus,” with Dr. Seuss books and gum wrappers stuffed between its seats. All attributed to my family. Being the oldest of a rambunctious crowd of eight kids can be pretty crazy. Luckily I have my own room, but I can certainly sympathize with the little old lady who lived in that shoe. Days are filled with little brother pranks, telling Bella she can’t wear her Cinderella dress to Wal-Mart, and of course never ending games of ‘Follow the Leader.’ Nevertheless, although my life is filled with noise and siblings with endless energy, I wouldn’t want it any other way. Except that there was one time I did. When Mom and Dad told me number eight was on the way. “Why?” I snapped. I didn’t want another sibling. Six were enough! I pictured another kid running around the restaurant, another temper tantrum in public, and fewer presents labeled “Hannah” under the Christmas tree. Furthermore, the looks I got from people when they heard we were a family of nine were obvious enough; I could only imagine their faces when they heard yet another one was on the way. I was being selfish of course, but I just didn’t see the point of another sibling.
The months went on. Bags of baby clothes appeared and names were tossed around the dinner table. Mom wore her maternity pants, and we all took turns tying her shoelaces. I grew to tolerate this approaching intrusion and my responses became less frosty when people asked if I was excited. In fact, frequently, I would quickly glance over my shoulder to see the ultrasound pictures pinned on the fridge. Finally, on a snowy day in March we got a call from the hospital.
Grady Cooper Moore had just entered our lives.
To my surprise, when I heard the words “new baby brother” I couldn’t have been more excited. All the remnants of my cold countenance deteriorated instantly, and all I wanted to do was hold my baby brother. His big blue eyes, tiny little fingers, and velvety skin melted my heart. How could I have not wanted him?
Grady is nearly two now, growing too fast in my opinion. His face gets covered with spaghetti sauce, his head resembles a bobblehead figure, and he has the biggest dimpled smile I have ever seen. I can’t imagine never having him in my life.
Even though having a big family is always crazy, I realize my time with them is rapidly coming to an end. Soon there will be one less plate set at the dinner table, and a vacant seat in “Maximas.” There will be one missing pair of muddy sneakers on the patio… my muddy sneakers. But I also know that wherever I am in life my family will always be there. And luckily, now Grady’s smile will appear amongst the eight other grins to greet me when I come home.
Muddy sneakers, Sesame Street, overfull laundry baskets, and an old green Suburban called “Maximus,” with Dr. Seuss books and gum wrappers stuffed between its seats. All attributed to my family. Being the oldest of a rambunctious crowd of eight kids can be pretty crazy. Luckily I have my own room, but I can certainly sympathize with the little old lady who lived in that shoe. Days are filled with little brother pranks, telling Bella she can’t wear her Cinderella dress to Wal-Mart, and of course never ending games of ‘Follow the Leader.’ Nevertheless, although my life is filled with noise and siblings with endless energy, I wouldn’t want it any other way. Except that there was one time I did. When Mom and Dad told me number eight was on the way. “Why?” I snapped. I didn’t want another sibling. Six were enough! I pictured another kid running around the restaurant, another temper tantrum in public, and fewer presents labeled “Hannah” under the Christmas tree. Furthermore, the looks I got from people when they heard we were a family of nine were obvious enough; I could only imagine their faces when they heard yet another one was on the way. I was being selfish of course, but I just didn’t see the point of another sibling.
The months went on. Bags of baby clothes appeared and names were tossed around the dinner table. Mom wore her maternity pants, and we all took turns tying her shoelaces. I grew to tolerate this approaching intrusion and my responses became less frosty when people asked if I was excited. In fact, frequently, I would quickly glance over my shoulder to see the ultrasound pictures pinned on the fridge. Finally, on a snowy day in March we got a call from the hospital.
Grady Cooper Moore had just entered our lives.
To my surprise, when I heard the words “new baby brother” I couldn’t have been more excited. All the remnants of my cold countenance deteriorated instantly, and all I wanted to do was hold my baby brother. His big blue eyes, tiny little fingers, and velvety skin melted my heart. How could I have not wanted him?
Grady is nearly two now, growing too fast in my opinion. His face gets covered with spaghetti sauce, his head resembles a bobblehead figure, and he has the biggest dimpled smile I have ever seen. I can’t imagine never having him in my life.
Even though having a big family is always crazy, I realize my time with them is rapidly coming to an end. Soon there will be one less plate set at the dinner table, and a vacant seat in “Maximas.” There will be one missing pair of muddy sneakers on the patio… my muddy sneakers. But I also know that wherever I am in life my family will always be there. And luckily, now Grady’s smile will appear amongst the eight other grins to greet me when I come home.
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