Green Hat Day for Lark

Sunday  March 19, 1995                Lark is 2 1/2

Lark, I just took some pictures of you wearing a green hat with a flower.

Here is a pronunciation guide:

wa-wash   =   washcloth

wap          =   lap

hungie       =   hungry (while grabbing throat)

yook         =   look

fra-fry       =   french fry

kickers     =   stickers (which you had applied to the page and then colored over in blue, yellow, and pink).

Lark Takes Charge...

January 6, 2001                Lark is 8 years old and this is my last entry in the new journal she received at Christmas.

Dear Lark,

You just told me that you want to write in this journal.  You told me this is YOUR journal.  You told me your writing is getting better.

I understand from what you said that you prefer I don't write in here to you.

So I won't anymore.            Love, Mom

Lark filled the next four pages with entries.  She wrote in green and purple and blue and red ink.  Every sentence had a new color.  The next-to-last entry in the journal was made by her twelve-year-old sister, Trina.  Trina wrote...

Hey! Why did you tell mom not to write in here?  Oh well.  I'll say what you told me I could say: everyone pay attention.  It's Saturday the 9th of February 2002, so that means it's 2-9-2002.  Okay.  You have it back now, Trina. 

On October 7, 2002   Lark (age 9 now) made her last entry.

I had a asemebele. 

Perhaps someday she'll pick this journal up again and make entries in it for a child of her own.

Pay Attention

I gave Lark a journal the Christmas she was 8 years old.  This entry was made a week latter.

January 1st, 2001

Dear Lark,

Last night you didn't feel well.  In fact, I stayed up all night cleaning up after you.  I was so glad I had your room clean so you could make it to the bathroom faster.

You loved visiting your cousin Bill on Saturday and seeing your Uncle Bill be baptised Friday night.

You gave Bill a tip on home-schooling.  You told hime to "pay attention."

You helped undecorate the Christmas tree today.  You also starred in a play with your sisters (performed for Dad and I).  It was "Goldilocks and the Three Bears."  We got your performance on video.

Long Division Troubles

Tuesday January 7, 2003                 Lark is 10 years old.

Dear Lark,

Your newer journal must be downstairs so I am writing you here.  You are in the 4th grade now.  You love your teacher, Mr. Judd, and you love learning.  You called me at work this evening.  You were frustrated because you were stumped by your "long division" homework.  You had 20 problems to do and you had done only one. 

I offered to pay you a nickel for each problem you had done by the time I came home.  You refused.  You asked me if I had been tempted to use a calculator when I was your age.  I said we didn't have calculators when I was your age.

You were helping take care of Julia and she wanted to watch a movie.  Daddy was asleep and so was Jasmine (as she was sick today).  Trina was babysitting and Margret was at the library with me.

Confidence and Competence at age Five...

Sunday, August 2, 1998                 Lark is 5 (nearly 6) years old.  Trina is 8 years old.

Dear Lark,

Today you gave a talk in Primary.  You and Trina wrote it and drew pictures for it while I was at work at the library.  I wrote the last page for you so it would fit the theme "the scriptures help me to know the importance of keeping covenants."  You memorized the talk and delivered it confidently.  Your teacher, Br. Steele, told me that in class you are perfect--just the right mix of participating but also behaving.

...and to an older, more grown-up Lark I make a sincere apology that I let your entire 4th year and nearly your entire 5th year slip by without making any entries for you in this journal.  I peeked ahead and found I made only two more entries in this journal.  The rest is filled with scribbles and drawings you made at who-knows-what age.  At some point you began filling every line on the page with scribbles and I know you were thinking that you were recording your thoughts and experiences.  However, they are in the language of childhood and there is no rosetta stone to help us translate them.  I love you.

On October 8, 2002 (four years later -- Lark being 10 years old now)

Dear Lark,   You read through this journal this evening while I was at work.  Now I've read through it (after tucking you in at 10:30 p.m.).  We are both so glad we kept what moments of your young years that have been written here.    Love, Mom

Life lessons from a Three-year-old

Wednesday    August 28, 1996                 Lark is 3 years old (nearly 4!)

Dear Lark,

You are nearly 4 years old!  On Monday you came to work with me at the Springville Library.  We are moving everything out of the way so the walls and ceilings can be painted and so new carpet can be laid.  Daddy came too to volunteer his help. 

You played with the toys in my new office.  You found a little baggie with circles cut out of red, yellow, and green felt.  You lined them up on the floor and then walked along them toe-heel-toe-heel while counting.  Then you found a toy rake and pretended they were leaves to rake up. 

You figured out how to pronounce the word "garbage" today.  You told me your toy Barney told you how to say it.  While you were playing you told me to "pretend I am your Mom."

G'pa Williams came to our house on Sunday for dinner.  He accidently knocked over his glass and spilled his juice and broke his glass.  You told him that when you spill your drink you are supposed to say, "I'm having a bad day."  When we all laughed you said, "Well, it's true."

Lilark

Sunday July 14, 1996              Lark is 3 years old.

This notation in Lark's journal was made by her dad.  (Do all men write in all caps?)

As I went upstairs to help you change clothes after Jasmine, Margret, Trina and you had played flower fairies with the dress-ups, you sat on the floor to play and I tried a narration of the Miss Muppet rhyme.

"Little Miss Lark sat in the dark eating a milky way.
Along came a spider..."

As I walked my hand up to you, you slapped my hand and said, "I killed it".
I finished the rhyme with "right away".

Love, Dad

Your mom's journal entry to you on this same day follows...

Dear Lark,

You and your sisters played "Flower Fairies" with the dress-ups this afternoon.  You were the "Lilark Fairy" (lilacs).  Your favorite color is purple so that was a very appropriat choice for you.

Love, Mom

Lark's Alphabet

Friday, May 24, 1996             Lark is 3 years and 9 months old

f      is for fackers (crackers)

y      is for yike (bike), yap (lap), yiving room (living room), and yegs (legs)

j      is for jarbur (garbage)

g      is for gog (dog) and gool (school)

i       is for ing (eating)

k      is for kurkey (turkey--as it appears when you take the lid off a new tub of soft margarine)

l       is for lolo (yellow)

Keeping Journals for Your Children...

Sunday November 19, 1995                Lark is 3 years and 2 1/2 months old

Dear Lark,

When you saw me writing in your sisters' journals you brought me yours and told me to write in it. 

As you can see-- (by all the scribbles and markings in it) you love "writing" in it yourself.

Love, Mom

On the back of this page (I only write on one side on the page because in some of my journals which I kept before I was married the ink bled through) in my mom's handwriting (your g'ma) is written...

Noone goes in
Noone goes out
Someone to wish on a star'

I was wondering if she was writing what you told her to write.  The entry is undated.  The next dated entry is May 24, 1996 (which will be tomorrow's post).  As you can see, six months elapsed from the entry I made on this day (today's post).  The next post after the one in May is the bottom half of the same page made in July 1996 by your dad. 

Even very infrequent entries are better than no entries.  These little snippets of your life are so precious to us.  Had we known how quickly you were growing up we would have been more diligent.

Very Brave

Wednesday, August 30, 1995                Two days before Lark's 3rd birthday...

Dear Lark,

You have been sick for four days now.  You've had a fever, runny stool, vomiting, sleeping a lot, low energy.  You are very brave about it and hardly complain.  You hardly eat or drink and I am worried about you.

Love, Mom

Feep

Wednesday   August 9, 1995              Lark is 2 years old (nearly 3)

Lark,

You were the first girl awake.  When I walked into your room you said "Good morning."  Then you said, "Trina feep." (meaning Trina is still asleep).

You were the only one to go with me to the doctor.  You were great company and snuggled onto my lap reassuringly.

I call you my "Angel Child".

Love, Mom

Pink Plastic Tool

August 5, 1995                  Lark is 2 (nearly 3) years old

Lark,

You were keeping me company (sort of) while I was getting ready for work.  You were playing with a little pink plastic pretend hairblower.  I was thinking how adorable and feminine you were.  Then I heard you referring to the blowdryer as a gun.

(Considering you have no brothers and your dad has no guns and we never talk about guns and we don't watch violent films, this came as quite a surprise!)

A Pink Balloon & Big Shoes

July 26, 1995                  Lark is 2 years old (nearly 3)

Dear Lark,

I am being late for work because I want to write in yours and Trina's journals.  I would have last night but you were both still awake.  So....

I am thinking of an evening in late June.  Your big sisters (except Trina) were spending the week at the Mitchells.  Trina was off somewhere playing or napping. 

You had a long pink balloon we had purchased that afternoon.  You were wearing a pair of Trina's shoes.  You wanted to be watched.  So I sat on the step and watched as you made your way past Don's house and then the next house and then around the corner.  You disappeared from sight as you passed the giant blue spruce on the corner.  Then you appeared again, looking to see if I was watching.  Then you turned and returned to me.  You repeated this little march numerous times, frequently checking to see if I was watching.  You were so proud of the pink balloon, of wearing Trina's shoes, of venturing off alone, and so happy for my undivided attention to your courage, your adventure, your maturity.

My heart swelled.  I felt so in love with you.  You filled me with happiness and completeness.  You with your blond curls, your overlarge shoes, your pink balloon nearly as large as you, your pride in yourself, your joy bubbling forth in giggles.

Then a rose thorn burst your balloon.  You were devastated.  You came to me and I wrapped you in a lap embrace.

After awhile you rallied and got on with your life.