Messages to Mommy

I grew up having lots of pen pals. I loved writing letters to old friends (moved alot as a kid), people that we met on vacation (I could befriend anyone), former camp mates (Especially For Youth at BYU), or just plain strangers (other kids met in AOL chat rooms). However, my favorite all time pen pal was my sister, who was one year older than me- not to be confused with the one three years older who wrote me once (shame shame shame.)

Most people don't even like their sisters, let alone write them. But, most people live with their sisters, too. I, however, was a foster kid, and me and my sisters had been separated from each other since I was nine years old - not in different homes in the same city either- think me in Florida and them in Oregon, Texas, or Virginia. So, when you can only see your sisters for two weeks, every two years...you must write (no such thing as cell phones then and long distance bills were very expensive).

So, when my seven year old daughter, Gwendolynn, could pick anyone she wanted to be pen pals with- It was adorable that she choose me. For the last four weeks she writes me a letter in a notebook, then waits for me to read it and respond. Then, she secretly writes back. Though half of what she writes I can't make out, because she is still developing her writing and spelling skills, I adore her weekly messages to mommy.

Idea for Book Three

As soon as we get home from school each day, Gwendolynn and Madeline start flinging dead trees at me- and there must be at least thirty dead trees in each of their backpacks. “Sign this.” Fling. “Read this.” Fling. “Look at this.” Fling. I ask for a neat, orderly pile every day, but before you know it, the kitchen counters and the kitchen tiles- where many of the papers have flittered to- are littered in a mix of both girls’ papers. I am left sitting on the kitchen floor, drowning in confetti of dead trees as my darling girls have moved on to the cartoon channel.

This Thursday was no different. After spending ten minutes (still in my dress and heels sitting on the kitchen floor) sorting between the “trash” pile and the “sign” piles, I sign the planners and the conduct folders. Anything that does not look like a required signature goes in the trash pile.

After I make Rice Pilaf and chicken, we say the prayer and eat dinner together at the table- hubby  has wandered in when I was cooking.

After dinner, the girls and I are hanging out in the playroom together. Madeline is asking me about the student council form and if I signed it. I have no clue what she is talking about. Madeline disappears and returns with a form that she has fished out of the trash. I vaguely recall the form- ok so I do not recall it all- but here she is dusting pilaf off it.

Madeline, nine, informs me that she wants to run for student council. I am thinking why, when I remember that I was in student council for third through sixth grade, as well. She is very excited to show me a crumbled piece of paper (poor trees) with her speech on it. It basically says that she promises to show up, said four different ways in four different sentences. “Do you want me to help you with your speech?” I ask, because you know mommy’s do not have any of thing else to do (cough). Actually, I took one look at the paper and thought- she is differently going to lose if she uses that speech. So, I ask her a bunch of leading questions to help her create her OWN speech. All the while, I am cringing at the idea of having to make cupcakes for her campaign. Jason informs us that Obama – which is a joke in the family- has banned parents from bringing cupcakes to schools. “Darn, you will just have to win on your smile,” I tell her. Then, she smiles real big revealing her extremely crooked teeth and says with a bit of princess vanity (no clue where she gets that), “Awesome. I have the cutest smile!”

Well, if she makes the Student Council, this very well might be….(wait for it)…Book Three, Sisters of Sugar Land, Vote for Katelyn.