The Abundant Life

Just realized that it has been 4 months since either of us has posted to this blog. It was just a very busy time. Actually, now that it's over and done with, I'd have to say that the whole year was actually a very hard one, one of the hardest in recent memory. It was a year of transition - a very frustrating and prolonged search for a house (that ended up very well), transitions in relationships as many of our friends have moved on to different relational circles, and major changes in work. I think the house hunt and the work challenges made things hard, but experiencing such major shifts in our safety net of community made it all the harder.

The most common thing Ian and I would say to each other throughout the entire year was that we needed a change in our lifestyle. Sleep-deprivation and stress were becoming a bit too familiar and our kids were absorbing some of our stress and acting out in school. The Christmas vacation was therefore a welcome time of rest.

Both Ian and I have had traditions of journaling. Each of us also have a practice of reflecting on the past year during the Christmas break and establishing some goals or a theme for the upcoming year. Toward the end of last year, we started talking about upcoming goals and found that many were similar. That set a direction for my thoughts on a theme.

It was an experience in Atlanta that gave me a mini-revelation on what our theme should be. We decided to attend Ian's parents' church for Christmas Eve service. I grew up in a traditional church setting and, much as I love the cultural relevance of Mosaic's Sunday gatherings, I have moments when I miss the comfort I sometimes feel in an established church. The church we went to on Christmas eve is REALLY traditional - stained glass window, wooden pews, a pulpit up front...even a pipe organ. It felt great to walk in to the smell of clean carpet and coffee and see people dressed in their Sunday best. We dropped our kids off in child care facilities equipped with age-appropriate furniture and picked up candles on our way in to our seats in the balcony of the sanctuary. I was already encouraged by the environment by this time and grew even more excited to see an orchestra set up on the stage. We launched into a number of familiar Christmas hymns, accompanied by talented singers and great orchestral arrangements. I was moving into a reverent mood, certain that the evening would prepare me for an encounter with God.

Then the pastor spoke. He talked about the people who missed the first Christmas and drew some parallels between them and people nowadays who miss Christmas (and Christ). It was a very good message with good reminders about the distractions that can pull me away from God. But something didn't resonate with me. He kept talking about how the reward of becoming a Christian was that we would get to be with God in eternity. I know that's true, but I think there's more to life than waiting until after we die to experience the richness of God. So right there in this beautiful setting with everything designed to focus us on the Christmas message, I had a different passage pop into my mind. It was from John 10

The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy; I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full.

or

The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy; I came that they may have life, and have it abundantly.

I quickly found my way to the passage in my Bible to confirm that I remembered it correctly. It burned itself in my mind until I could talk to Ian later that night. He agreed that the idea of the abundant life captured what he also wanted to pursue and so decided to adopt a shared theme for our family for 2011 of "The Abundant Life". We're not quite sure what that means, but we know that God wants us to live better than we have this past year and that we as a family need to be pursing that life here on this earth and not just wait until we're dead to experience abundance. So even though that wasn't quite the message the pastor had, I am so thankful that everything we experienced that night set us up for what we were actually supposed to gain.

So I've been meaning to blog about our theme for the past few weeks. I want to get this thought out there into cyberspace so that the handful of people who read us could hold us accountable to our goal of abundant living. But I just never got around to it.

But something happened tonight to inspire me to blog. We went to church tonight. Our pastor, Erwin McManus, has launched a message series called Narrative. Our church is going through a period of transition and Erwin wanted to start out the beginning of the year by starting over again, sharing his story and the passages that shaped him. And tonight he chose to speak on the same passage, John 10. And the same idea - that this life is supposed to be different when we choose to follow Jesus. It is not guaranteed to be pain-free, but can be shaped by the intimate connection that God offers.

So I am very excited about this year. Ian and I are going to make changes in the way we approach work, exercise, diet, child-rearing, rest, sleep....and whatever else we need to do to experience the abundant life that Jesus wants to offer us. Anyone else with us?

Clarice

Happy New Year 2011

Say goodbye to 2010. It was a great year for the L.A. Eyres. We hope to blog more this year.

Here's our family picture taken by our favorite photographer Emily Allen of Solace Arts.

Our family theme this year is Abundant Life according to Jesus' words in John 10:10b, "I came that they may have life, and have it abundantly." God is good! All the time!

On Being Creative

I got to be a panelist at a Symposium on Creativity sponsored by my church. I was up there with a film and tv composer, a man who creates large art works in public spaces, and a lawyer who helps the poor access legal services. I got to explain how dentistry is creative...how we apply art to science and science to art...how our work is rooted in an understanding of the amazing creative work of the Creator. It was a blast...and I got to meet two of the dancers from Dancing With the Stars (one of whom complemented me on my creativity).

On Being "Advanced"

This past Tuesday, pickup time from the daycare was less crazy than usual. So I thought I would take the opportunity to catch up with one of Jackson's teachers.

"How was my boy today?" I asked.

"He had a good day," she replied. Then she perked up a bit. "This morning during circle time, Jackson read the book he brought in to the other children. He read the whole thing."

"Wow!" I exclaimed. "You know, I have noticed him sitting with Kiran and other kids reading to them. But he's reading whole books now?"

Then we launched into a conversation about how we should get him tested since he's so advanced. But I won't write about that lest it be thought that I am bragging about my brilliant son. Just to be clear. Ian and I take no credit. We just think that it's successful outbreeding.

It's rather surprising that he has progressed so quickly. As a two year old, his version of the "ABC" song went "ABABABA, ABABABA, ABABABA, ABABABA, ABABABA, ABABABA." It was tonally correct, but he wasn't at all interested in learning the proper sequence of letters. He shied away from all activities involving writing utensils and paint. By two and a half, he could recognize about 20 car symbols, but only 5 or 6 letters. All of a sudden at three and a half, he started recognizing more letters (and started taking an interest in starfall.com, recommended by my cousin Melanie). And before he turned four he started recognizing some words. Now, a bit after turning four, he reads children's books with fairly good accuracy. The fun thing is that he doesn't read in the monotone manner typical of early readers, but actually reads with inflection. And he really seems to love reading and writing.

At dinner that night, I summarized the conversation with Jackson's teacher for Ian. After affirming Jackson, Ian asked him, "Do any of your other friends know how to read a whole book out loud?"

"No," he replied smugly. "Just me. And the teachers."

Ian beamed.

"Wait a minute," I said, thinking of the five year olds in the class. "What about Julia?"

"Oh," he returned. "Yeah, Julia. She can read. Just Julia and me and the teachers".

"Not even Stella?" Another five year old.

"Oh, yeah. Stella and Julia and me and the teachers."

"How about some of the other bigger kids? LIke Max and Jensen?"

"Oh. (pause) Yeah. A lot of the friends can read a whole book. And the teachers too. The teachers can read a whole book."

I'm rather glad he has become so confident in his success in the area of reading. He has been delayed with potty training and gets a lot of "consequences" and "teacher's choices" at daycare because he has issues with impulse control. Before he discovered his area of strength, he just seemed very edgy. But gaining some mastery over reading has seemed to give him a new sense of accomplishment. He seems more comfortable in his own skin. Certainly less easily frustrated.

So yesterday, Ian picked up the kids. He said the head teacher stopped him and also recommended getting testing for Jackson. So now that's two suggestions by two individuals. To be quite honest, I'm a bit reluctant to go there. You know the scene in Spiderman when Ben Parker is dying and tells Peter, "With great power comes great responsibility"? I'm having these moments when I realize that not only am I responsible for the health and safety and moral development of my kids, but I'm also responsible to help them steward their gifts. Sometimes ignorance is bliss. If I don't know what his potential is, I am less responsible. Does that sound right?

Then there's the issue of how Jackson might steward his own gifts. I have this silly little thing I tell people when they ask me what he is like. I like to joke that he'll probably be dictator of a small country....and that I hope it's a tropical country so I can enjoy my visits with him. He's such a strong-minded kid. So the possibility of a really bright, strong-minded kid worries me. What will happen if his moral compass sends him the wrong direction?

I suppose there's not much I can do other than do my best to raise him to look to the humility of Jesus as an example of how to use controlled power to benefit others rather than self.

Ian and I have our work cut out for us. But I think we genuinely look forward to seeing how this all turns out.

Kiran's Babies

I just spent 30 minutes trying to sooth my crying toddler. We had completed all of our usual nighttime activities without a hitch. Visit the potty, take a bath, put on pajamas, family devotions, mommy time, daddy time, and lights out. But she could not be consoled. She wanted her babies.

This is Baby Colleen.

Most people think it's funny when I tell them that Kiran's first doll, a gift from Grandmum and Granda, is named Colleen. We didn't pick that name. We actually chose the name for her second doll, Baby Gigi, which was a gift from Aunt Elisabeth and Uncle Scott. This is what Baby Gigi used to look like when she was new.

Baby Gigi was named first. Poor Baby Colleen was nameless and ignored for the longest time while Baby Gigi languished in the storage pile under Kiran's crib. I guess Kiran just wasn't ready for dolls the entire time Baby Colleen sat in the corner of her crib. But one day around six months ago, Kiran discovered Baby Gigi's box. She brought it to me with a gleeful look and demanded, "ahpen it". As soon as Baby Gigi was released, Kiran gave her a big hug and said, "mah baby". Since she had finally chosen to bond with a lovey, we figured it had to be personalized. We chose the name Gigi because that was what Kiran was calling herself at the time. She was substituting g's for k's, calling herself Gigi instead of Kiki. Once Baby Gigi became special to her, Baby Colleen got included in the lovefest. Oh yeah. How did she get the name Colleen? A few weeks after Baby Gigi was named, I asked Kiran if her other doll had a name. "Yeah!" she exclaimed. When I asked her the name, she said something that sounded like "Kelleen!". Kelly? "No, Kelleen!". Kaitlyn (her cousin)? "No, Kelleen!" Keilah (another cousin)? "KEL-LEEN!". Then it dawned on me. She was telling me the name of one of her teachers in the daycare. So Baby Colleen joined the family.

It's been fun to watch her care for her babies. Sometimes she'll sit one of them in Jackson's chair at the dining table.

"Baby Gigi. Eating." She'll tell us. "Kiki. Happy."


She loves her babies enough to give them her favorite seat to watch TV (which, of course, happens on extremely rare occasions - the TV watching, not the sacrificial service).

"Baby. TV. Cold. Binket."


And she'll check on her baby occasionally.

"Ah-kay, baby? Ah-kay? Happy? TV?"


Ian and I get a kick out of it.

Except on nights like tonight. When Baby Gigi is at school waiting for Kiki for her daytime nap and Baby Colleen is lost, last seen stuffed into a shoebox by a rambunctious, imaginative older brother. And little mommy is despondent that she doesn't have a baby to hug to sleep.

Fortunately, the big brother understands her plight and will bring her alternate animals to try out and sing songs to try to make her happy once it's clear that big mommy's attempts aren't working.

Itsy Bitsy Spider

Kiran sings. Check out the hand motions that go with the song.

How Old Are You, Kiran? Part 2

Revisiting the same question two months later

Perspective on Life

One of my favorite patients came in for a dental appointment today. I'm guessing it's probably not politically correct to have favorite patients, but I do...just like I proudly have a favorite son and a favorite daughter.

This patient is such a joy to treat. She is almost always smiling and pleasant. Her eyes have a certain peace and light radiating from them. She hugs me when she comes in for her appointments and makes sure to say "thank you" and "goodbye" when she's finished with whatever procedure is going on.

Today, when I went to the waiting room to tell her it was her turn to come back to the treatment area, she clapped and jumped up and down. I asked her if she was excited about coming in for her appointment; she nodded her head vigorously then literally ran back into the operatory. She's nine years old....and she has the mind of a four year old.

She also has mild cerebral palsy, which is manifested in an obvious weakness and lack of coordination of one half of her body. She can't perform all of her daily functions too well so she gets help with brushing her teeth and flossing every night.

Her family is brilliant. Both parents are professors and very accomplished in their fields. She has an older sister who is smart as a whip. I often ponder the kinds of hopes and dreams her parents must have had for her.

I asked what happened. It was part of my normal routine of gathering a medical history. Her mother told me that it all happened during pregnancy. It was a completely normal pregnancy and the baby was pronounced perfectly healthy throughout. Then in the eighth month, for whatever reason, the baby had a stroke. I don't think it's very common. I don't remember how the mom said the doctors figured it out. At any rate, the doctors induced labor and she was born a little early, probably adding insult to injury.

So by some fluke, this chid, who was expected to be perfectly normal....is not. And there was nothing anyone could do about it.

And so I remember this kid sometime when I need a perspective on life. We have so little control over life and this whole process of bringing new lives into this world. We might have prenatal screens and genetic tests and try to make decisions about the value of an unborn life. But we can't predict every little glitch that might occur in life. And it can happen in an instant. A flash, a fluke, and suddenly life isn't what we expected.

I'm sure it's sometimes rough on her family. I once remarked on how happy the child always seemed and her dad slowly said, "well....not always". But there's a real special tenderness the whole family has for this kid. She seems to bring out a goodness in them. So I file that away too. Things happen for a reason. Who am I to try to control that?

So I am reminded again today to remember how precious life and health really are. And even if my little one is starting to get into thirty minute unconsolable crying tantrums as she approaches two years of age, and even if my big boy has regular poo poo accidents and moments of rude defiance, I want to choose gratitude. They're full of life and they're healthy. And there was nothing that I could do to guarantee that.

UPDATED:
I guess God's trying to tell me something. At church today, Pastor Erwin spoke on Ecclesiastes 11:1-6. Verse 5 says:

5 As you do not know the path of the wind,
or how the body is formed in a mother's womb,
so you cannot understand the work of God,
the Maker of all things.

No, we don't have control over much of life, but we just need to faithfully invest in the things we know to be right and good and eventually we'll reap a return, in a manner known only to the good and gracious God.

Home, Sweet, Home

We're in escrow!! After one year of searching, 11 offers (4 times as first backup), and many, many Sundays of open houses, we are moving forward. We feel like this house has been gifted to us. We didn't actually pursue this one. Instead, the listing agent on our 9th offer called us up. We were first backup on that particular home. Both he and the owner really liked us and wanted us to have the home, but there was a better offer. But the agent remembered us and suggested to the owners to offer us the chance to make an offer on this home before it was even listed.

Cute little house built in the 1940's in a family-friendly neighborhood walking distance to both Winchell's donut house and Trader Joe's. Three bedrooms and two baths.

It has its drawbacks. Primarily...it's located here...


...right next to the freeway. It also lacks a garage and a formal dining room, but we can afford it and it's in the boundaries of a great elementary school. So we are thankful and hoping that we can secure a good loan and move forward with no hitches.

Here it is:

Front of the house:


Backyard view from the patio:


Storage shed in backyard:


Studio Office (future home of EyreFilms):


Thank you for journeying with us so far!

Family Portrait

By Jackson, age 4 years 2 months

How old are you, Kiran?

She insists that she's two and a half. Does she even know the difference between one and two?



Clarice

New Toy

Uncle Randy and Auntie Amy gave Jackson a new dream toy for his birthday. He's been enjoying it.



Clarice

Kiran Translation Guide

Kiran is starting to talk more and more as her primary mode on communication. It's nice to not have to interpret her cries. Unfortunately, we now have to interpret her sounds. Here's a handy guide to what on earth she's trying to say.

mo = more
ah done = all done
moke = milk
wa wa = water
ahsahsah = applesauce
nanny = banana
arage = orange
bad = bread
bad = bed
buddah = pillow
bitten = blanket
doddy = doggy
mao mao = cat
wog = frog
dars = star
moan = moon
eeyoh = ear
eye = eye
mouse = mouth
no = nose
dose = toes
beya buda = belly button
foogung = finger
peesh = please
tee too = thank you
(silence) = sorry
NOOOOOO = sorry
Jah Jah = Jackson
Chee Chee = Kiki

Clarice

Such Silence

We've been silent on this blog for a while. Lots of stuff going on. Plenty of drafts of blog posts in our heads, but we've had trouble committing to place finger to keyboard. But we know that there are a handful of folks, mainly our relatives, who would like news about our family....actually, our kids, so we'll try to post at least once a month this year.

Clarice

Halloween 09

Nuff said


Clarice

Grocery Shopping

We're trying to figure out how to get Kiran to bed early because she often seems so tired. So, one day I offered to take Jackson to Ralph's at 8pm so Kiran could have a quiet evening. Jackson enjoyed helping me choose veggies, fruits and ice-cream using commands from his perch in the shopping cart. Then he typically followed a choice by an opinionated; "I think I'm going to really, really enjoy that. Mmm."

At the check out line he admired the rows and rows of candy, assuming that they all contained yummy choclate. Then he blurted; "When I grow up I'm going to be 28 and then I can have some candy, right Daddy?" I laughed; "Sure, when you turn 28, you can come down here and have some candy. You can have one of each if you want." He said; "I think I'm going to really, really like the candy."

I hope he doesn't grow up until he's 28, although I say that now when he's three and cute.

Ian

Just Being Near Each Other

Last Friday I witnessed a teeny tiny event that warmed my mother-heart. We were at the passport office. Incidentally, we were there for 2.5 hours, which seemed like an unreasonably long time considering the fact that we actually had an appointment that took us one week to make, in a convoluted process involving a phone call with a million phone menus that resulted in an inconvenient noon appointment time, cutting into work hours and especially small children's nap times, causing fussiness galore in an environment that allowed no cell phones or computer usage to entertain said small children. But that's another story.

Anyway, Jackson spent the better part of our waiting time running in circles in the waiting area. The tiles on the floor were mostly black with white tiles set into diamond patterns. Some older, also impatient, children started the "don't step on the black tiles or you'll die because it's hot lava" game (which I distinctly remember from my own childhood). Jackson was trying to keep up with them, getting burnt by hot lava many, many times. Kiran couldn't keep up with them at all, so she stood in the middle of the hot lava, watching them circle around her.

At some point, Jackson must of gotten tired of being told that his feet were on fire. He walked over to a wall and sat on the floor, using the wall as a back rest. He stared rather vacantly off to the side. Kiran immediately toddled over and sat exactly three feet from him, gazing around in the opposite direction. With absolutely no acknowledgement of her presence, Jackson pulled away from the wall and narrowed the distance to one foot, leaving a little bit of personal space for both of them. Kiran gave a little glance behind her to where Jackson had relocated, lumbered to her hands and feet and backed her little diaper-clad hiney into his shoulder, guiding it down his torso to a very clumsy sitting position right next to him. He looked at her briefly, then put one arm around her shoulder and proceeded to bite the nails on his other hand.

We have so much drama in our lives sometimes, trying to demonstrate love to both children. One of my big fears is that my kids will not have a loving relationship with each other. But they really seem to enjoy just being near each other. No matter how many times he knocks her off her feet or pushes her or kisses her with his teeth, she still seeks him out. No matter how many times she steals away his limelight for something so simple as walking or steals his toys or gets the ideal daycare dropoff/pickup time, he still seeks her out.

It's a beautiful thing that starts most mornings. When he awakes, he usually plays independently until we go in their room to begin the morning process. Quite invariably, he ends up right next to her crib. And this morning, we were awakened by the sound of her calling him. "Dacksee. Dacksee." He heeded her call. When I asked him why he was sitting next to her crib, he said, "because she called me. She pointed at me and said 'Jackson', so I came over."

It makes me happy. It makes me worry less about their future without Ian and myself. Because if they like just being near each other now, I can hope they'll still look to each other when the inevitable occurs and we leave our responsibilities as their caretakers. They'll have each other.

Clarice

On Doubt

I had a very interesting experience nearly two months ago that I can't quite shake from my memory. I was on jury duty. Not just sitting in the jury assembly room, which is how I've served in the past. I was actually one of the 12 jurors on a criminal case. I can't give any of the details of the case. But I can say that I think it is incredible that we have, in this country, a system that respects its citizens enough to put one individual's guilt or innocence in the judgment of his/her peers. Sure, the system ain't perfect, but what it communicates about the founders' value for its citizenry is phenomenal.

It was a truly fascinating experience for the first 3 days. Jury selection, the presentation of evidence, witness testimony... Then we got to jury deliberations. We started out 7 to 5 on the verdict. By the end of the first hour of deliberations, we were at 8 to 2 with 2 undecided, leaning toward the majority. We took the weekend off and one of the undecideds, namely me, converted to the majority after being alone with my thoughts. By Monday morning, another undecided had converted to the majority and the process of deliberating made me more and more certain that the majority had the right decision. But the holdouts weren't persuaded. We were getting frustrated by mid-morning so we told the judge that we couldn't come to a decision and wanted to know what was next. He sent us back into deliberations, suggesting that we hadn't deliberated enough. So we went back in and kept working at it until lunchtime. Right after our lunch break, another undecided switched to the majority opinion and began confidently trying to persuade the holdout.

And this is where it got frustrating. "I have doubts", juror #11 indicated. The majority affirmed #11's doubts. "It's okay to have doubts, but are they reasonable?" we pleaded. "What about this? And this? And this?" #11 asked. We countered each argument with logic and with emotion, with metaphors and personal life examples. But he was stuck. But worst of all was his attitude about it. There was a certain lack of humility. He mocked the attorneys...the witnesses...even us. He was rude -interrupting us, shouting over us, chiding us for our conclusions about the evidence. He said he wasn't the type to jump to hasty conclusions, suggesting that the remaining 11 of us had. Ultimately, he was adamant that he didn't, and even couldn't, believe the testimonies given as evidence. His reason for disbelief - he didn't think he had the ability to see what the witnesses saw, therefore the witnesses couldn't possibly have seen it, despite the entirely different occupational training the witnesses had. Nothing could convince him that the witnesses had demonstrated their trustworthiness nor could be taken at their word. So he stood his ground. He looked at the rest of us and concluded, "maybe you guys are willing to look at this as a game, but I can't ruin someone's life based on something I can't believe." That kind of hurt, because the rest of us were also aware of the implications of our decision.

So we rang the bailiff, who led us back into the courtroom to deliver our verdict. Hung jury. 11 to 1. I mourned the loss of citizen time, taxpayer money, and the simple fact that one person's doubt could hijack what I thought was justice. The judge thanked us for our service and released us, saying that both attorneys would be available afterward to answer any questions.

We filed out into the hallway. Eleven of us huddled together. It was an intense experience and we just needed to debrief and mourn together. I personally wasn't planning to talk to either of the attorneys, but the Assistant District Attorney who was prosecuting the case saw us all there and came over. She thanked us in a very congenial and understanding way. We all beat around the bush a bit, then somebody had the boldness to ask her a direct question about the case. Of course, I can't divulge more, but I can say that what she told us clarified everything entirely. There were hints throughout the trial of the conclusion she revealed to us, but because she was bound by the laws of the court, she couldn't reveal those facts in court. And Juror #11? He very clearly saw us gathered around the Assistant DA. I waved him over, being one of the few people he was willing to talk to, but he just waved a goodbye, stepped into the elevator, and was gone.

I guess the reason that I can't shake this event is because there are hints of the eternal here. First, I was so impressed that the significant figures in this experience played by the rules. They could have broken the rules of the court to align the decision of the jury with what they knew to be true. But they didn't. And I think the Creator has been gracious enough to do the same. He could break His own rules to give us everything we need to cast aside all doubt and just believe. But He doesn't. I really don't think we can handle the whole truth. But I think there are hints of truth strewn throughout our life experience. We just have to learn to interpret them. And we have to trust that the other people we journey with in this life are also interpreting their hints appropriately so that the aggregate gives us a bigger picture of the backstory to be revealed. And I think we need humility. Because without humility, doubt becomes an insurmountable hurdle to accessing truth.

Clarice

Learning To Read

Jackson has been working on his reading skills. He knows all the upper case letters, almost all of the lower case letter, and most of the sounds that the letters make. So we've been helping him out. When he points to words and asks us what the words say, we try to help him sound things out.

Last week as we were driving home, Jackson decided to read his beloved "Cars & Trucks" book, given to him by his Aunt E. He started out by calling out the letters he recognized. I heard him say "J-A-C-K. Mommy, only fwee more letter and it's my name!" I thought that was rather clever and glanced back at the book to verify his declaration. Sure enough...


I was rather impressed that...a) he knew how to spell his own name and b) he could on to determine that there were 3 letters missing to spell his name.

Excited to see part of his name in one of his favorite books, he tried reading some more. I heard him excitedly sound out "pah, ih, kah, uh, pah. Pickup! Mommy, this says pickup!" So I glanced back again to verify.


Close.

Clarice

An Ode to Aunt Sandra

We have a friend who hosts very innovative birthday gatherings. Last year, she hosted a "mustache party" in which all attendees were encouraged to either grow mustaches (if chromosomally capable) or wear a fake mustache, which she kindly affixed to her invitations.

This year, she decided to host a poetry reading party to which invitees were encouraged to bring poorly written poetry for public reading. So in honor of Aunt Sandra's birthday, Jackson helped me write a poem. I'll let you judge whether is counts as being poorly written. And I'll let you decide which portions Jackson wrote and which I can take credit for.

Happy Birthday, Auntie Sandra
I hope you had a lot of pandra
And pancakes
And blueberries
And strawberries
And raspberries
I hope you had a special day
And did some baking by the bay
I did some baking on top of this tow truck
And, uh, I love you pochuck!

Not quite iambic pentameter, but at least it rhymed.

Clarice