poeming on the day after he turned eight


eight

oh my sweet eight year old
we've had some rough patches
(some this week with all this messiness)
(and birthdays can be too much, too much)
rough patches can hurt a lot, both of us
but the love we share sees us through
(the snuggles, the laughs, the shared views)
(the silly stories we read together, with accents)
(the pride we take in learning new things)
and i will always be the proudest mama bear

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We're in full on clean-the-house mode. It started as getting ready for my MIL and her partner's visit, but of course turned into more, because rearranging and decluttering (and deep cleaning) is its own reward.

So instead of writing tomorrow, I will schedule a post from my archives.

And return Monday with photos.

Have a great weekend.