When the going gets tough, the tough write poetry

I've been trying to nightwean the baby. The thinking is, he's almost a year old and should be able to last the night without nursing 47 times. I tend to be a bit less than pleasant when I've been woken up multiple times all night long for a year solid. But since I'm not a cry-it-out mom, I've been trying for something more gentle. I think it will work eventually, but let's just say I didn't know it was possible to be more tired than I already was.

We commenced our adventures in homeschooling this morning with poetry. Abby and Ashlynn were supposed to be reading and then writing their own poetry. So they started reading their poems, outloud. Each trying to out do the other when it came to loudness. It was then that I declared that they were to read all poems to themselves. Then the writing commenced. They were grouchy, I was grouchy and sleep deprived. I was wondering if I could send them to public school just for a day or two.  So then, I texted a friend, complaining, venting. Bless her, she wrote me back in rhyme. And so for most of the rest of the day, our messages were in couplet form. Credits to Morgan in red.

Grammar, poetry, sentences, you stink.
Working on English is a waste of ink.

My sister, my brothers, they're driving me crazy.
I wish I could just watch TV and be lazy.

Haiku isn't hard.
Sometimes it doesn't make sense.
Refrigerator.

Pulling out wipes is lots of fun.
This making of messes is never done.

Speaking in rhymes is ever so amusing.
Except for my girls, it is confusing.

Tell them it's easy and really a gas!
They just have to focus, they'll get it, en masse!

Now the time has come for me to shower.
When I am done, I shall smell like a flower.

Showers lovely.
They keep me from being fugly.
(I think this one was my favorite of the whole day!)

The word "fugly" gets you extra credit.
I laughed really hard when I read it.

Ian and Max are both super snotty.
They wipe boogers on me so I can feel like a hottie.

Why must they always wipe it on Mom?
A tiny little booger bomb?
(I never said it was going to be uplifting poetry!)


And then we switched to limmericks:

There once was a mom who was tired,
Because all her kids were so wired.
She tied them up tight,
And turned out the light,
And said "If you don't go to sleep, you're all fired."

Lest you think that today was all about bad texted poetry, we did actually something. This is Ashlynn's masterpiece of the poetry unit so far, written while studying Shel Silverstein and hyperbole.

Isn't she cute? She had a piano recital tonight and was amazing! Musical and a writer! I'll keep this one...

Stinky Boy

by Ashlynn Smith

There once was a boy who would not take a bath.

He hated using soap as much as doing math.

He smelled like stinky fries and rotten eggs.

He had beetles crawling up and down his legs.

He never changed his clothes and it made his skin turn black.

He nearly gave his mom a great big heart attack.

But one stormy day he got caught out in the rain.

It washed the boy all clean, and he didn't even complain.

So there you have it. Stacy, Morgan, and Ashlynn. Poet Laureates. We're excited about our upcoming book tour.