My Mom, by Number 4.

We have these black, hanging wall folder-things from Pottery Barn in our mudroom.

Every day after school the kids empty their backpacks and put all their papers in them for me to look at.

I finally looked at the papers they brought home and put in those folders in the last few days of school this morning.

Our situation has me stressed, I didn’t sleep much last night, and I woke up with a raging headache and I was just spontaneously bursting into crying fits.

I wanted the day to be over before it even started.

But then I found this:



It was Number 4’s writing journal from school.

I randomly opened it up.

And this is the page I opened to:

my mom


Again, I was crying.

But now it was for a different reason.

I kept reading.


my mom3




That Number 4.

Maybe she is a little bit of a chip off the old block…

Making me laugh and cry all at the same time.

I don’t know.

Between her and that cardinal, I think I might just make it through this.

2nd PLACE SUCKS!  I need your votes!


I’ll keep writing, you keep voting!


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