Him: I have no idea what I’m doing
Me: Welcome to life.
Him: I was in a cave and now I’m not.
Me: Welcome to life. Just go and hug a hen, it often helps.
Him: I wish I could navigate by Crocodile
Me: Don’t we all?
Him: Mum, why are you talking nonsense?
Copyright © 2015 Kim Whysall-Hammond
Re-blogged from 2015. This conversation really happened— and going to speak to or hug one of our hens is a proven family remedy for most of lifes burdens.
Crunching down the shingle
Drinking the sea breeze
Listening to your chatter
As you throw pebbles into the sea
Heat is no longer the enemy
Its relaxing powers repaired
Breathing salt essence
In gloriously cool sea air
Brothers gently bickering
Who threw the greatest distance
Your deep voices lift in humour
And how we love to listen
Chilling on the shingle
Hanging out with the family
Talking about almost nothing
Companionably
Copyright © 2017 Kim Whysall-Hammond
…we went to the beach with our sons to escape the heat, and I broke out in rhyme once more….
A mother to her son
When I look at you, I need to look further up
Each time I come home from work you seem to have changed
My eyes devour you
I hug and hold you to discover your changing frame
Copyright © 2015 Kim Whysall-Hammond
…re-blogged from 2015….and yes, hes even taller now and still growing. These days I have to tiptoe to kiss his cheek.
The teenage years
All bets are off in the teenage years
You still share your child’s hopes and fears
But they are a child no more –Can you hear that slammed door?
It’s a bumpy ride–Sometimes Jekyll, sometimes Hyde
You love them to bits, you can’t stand them any more
And there again is that slamming door
You glimpse a young woman, you glimpse a young man –Try to catch them if you can
Sometimes it seems they’re a toddler again –Needing to share some of the pain
Do you remember when this was you?
Now you know what your parents went through……
Copyright © 2015 Kim Whysall-Hammond
Re-blogged from 2015….
Boys
Long legged boys
Filling my sofa
Controllers in hand
Deep laughs mingle with shrill cries
As Black Ops rolls
Every weekend they come to call
Filling my sofa
Littering shoes in my hall
Then are gone in a flash as dinners beckon
And the sofa is empty
Copyright © 2017 Kim Whysall-Hammond
