Ginger Morning Star Bettis

My sister had a baby

Little Ginger Morning Star Bettis was born on November 24, 2007 at 7:30 am in Bellingham, WA. She weighed in at 8 lbs, 11 oz, and was 19 inches long. I am told she has red hair, just like her eight year old sister, Willow. I will post a picture when I see one.

My little helicopters

After bath-time, I always snuggle up the boys in their towels and call them my little "helicopters". (It used to be caterpillar -see an earlier post on that one). Well, Mark wanted to be my "liddle airplane, Mama!" Then it was Lucas' turn. Not to be outdone by his brother, he announced he was my "liddle airport, Mama!" Airport? He kept grinning. So then I had to make those imaginary planes land on him..the tickling kind. Now, after every bath, I have two little airports!

Sleepy lunch

This is my Mark, tired out after a busy morning.

It’s nice to have honest children. We’ve always tried to not punish them for telling the truth. Something about, “Did you hit your brother?” If they say Yes, and receive punishment, then aren’t we teaching them to say “No.”, in effect, teaching them that to lie keeps them out of trouble?
So, here’s the story. Mark and Luke are upstairs, playing nicely, and I am downstairs. Nothing ever happens unless you attempt to answer the phone. Especially if it’s someone you’ve never met before. The screaming started almost as soon as I said “Hello.”
Then I heard the fwoop, fwoop, of a little bottom coming down the stairs and the crying gaining momentum. I could tell it was a hurt cry, so I ended the call and opened the stair door. Mark was three steps from the bottom, crying, blood running down his cheek. Luke was close behind, uninjured. I whisked Mark to the bathroom, and cleaned and applied pressure, wondering about stitches. The crying subsided and I asked what happened. Mark wails out, “Brother hit me with car!” Luke, who is sitting on the stool watching everything, echoes, “I hit his cheek with car.” Mark wails out again, “He say sorry!” and Luke again echoes, “I say sorry.” This makes me smile. “Did you forgive brother?” “I forgive Luke,” he says. “He forgive me,” says the echo. I emphasize that we don’t hit. “yes, mom,” they both respond. Bleeding has slowed, bandaids have been applied, Tylenol given, prayers prayed, kisses and hugs, and all is well. “I go play now?” asks Mark. “Play now?” says the echo. “Yes, “ and off they go. Resilent little critters, and thankfully, honest.

While trying to console Mark over his cookie breaking in half. I joyfully pointed out he now had TWO cookies. As I poured a cup of coffee, I heard, 6..7..8..9.. 10 cookies! Sure enough, he had 10 cookie bits! Six of which were no longer on the table.

Sleepyheads

These are my almost three year old twin boys! Exhausted after going to the library, they crashed on the drive home. I carried them in from the van and laid them on the couch. They are now toe-to-toe. They are growing older and getting longer. I can't believe they take up the whole couch already! My babies are boys!

Poetry

I love to read poetry. It gives language a succinctness that leads directly to the crux of the issue being discussed and hence, states the point. It does this concisely while avoiding the trappings of wordiness I find myself plagued with occasionally. J


The Prayer for Being Edited by Karen Burton Mains

Lord,
Edit me.
Correct me when my words are faulty.
Revise my thoughts.
Polish the rough passages of my being.

Submit me to a review panel who can judge
My strengths and weaknesses.
Correct the internal rhythm
So that the outward meter will be whole.
I want to be a work of art, Lord, a classic of some kind.

Give me form,
Fill me with the beauty of yourself.
Help those who read my life to see
That you are the workman;
I am the workmanship;
And out of me you are creating a work of art.
Amen.