Happy 80th to My Mother!

 My mom celebrated her 80th birthday this week! We had a surprise family party for her at my brother's house on Monday as part of our Labor Day celebration. 

Some of her children and grandchildren wrote poems in her honor. My father's poem was a song to the tune of the Jeeves and Wooster theme music. His performance was quite entertaining. 

My sister also put together a Jeopardy game of questions about my mother. Since my mother has some entertaining idiosyncrasies, these questions were pretty amusing. For example, one question was "Mom's name for the so-called family member that is actually a grocery store." Answer:  Who is Uncle Harmon's?

I also held a luncheon for her on her actual birthday with some of her friends in the neighborhood. I served grilled chicken, rice pilaf, tomato salad, spinach and berry salad, green beans from my garden, lemon bars, some sliced peaches, and zucchini muffins. This is the best time of year for food from my garden. I think everyone enjoyed themselves.

Here are the poems that we wrote.

There was a cute mother named Susan

Who looked at her kids' plates in confusion

When food went to waste,

She acted in haste,

And cured that bad habit's intrusion!

— Tyler Hansen

There once was a little gardener named Grandma

Whose mighty crops brought her acclaim and awe

But the best thing she grew

Was a sizable crew

Whose branches reach further than she saw.

Happy birthday Mom! I'm so grateful to have you as my mom.

— Liesl and Austin Hammer

Mother and Son

The seconds of breath taken as the seventh of eleven,

Do not balance the seconds of love given to her many babes.

The minutes of frivolous laughter throughout a carefree childhood,

Would not match the minutes of worry around safety and

direction.

The hours of weeding a bed of dry, cracked soil,

Are much less than the hours of teaching a head of stubborn,

independent youth.

The days of slumber in a soft bed neath the creaky kitchen floor,

Pale neath the days of patiently correcting a wandering, brash boy.

The weeks of trudging through perceived tedium at church,

Are a mote compared to the weeks of gospel-enlightened parental

counsel.

The months of spiritual growth amongst the people of Poland,

Far fewer than the months of perpetual care and feeding within

the humble home.

The years of mortality spent away from my childhood beacon,

Are nothing against time immemorial with my beloved mother in

the eternities.

— Kent Hansen

There was a young lady named Suzie

Who tickled the ivories like a doozy

She played with great flair

And such savoir faire

With her beaus she could afford to be choosy.

Now Suze nabbed a chap we'll call Gary

They raised a family out on the prairie

Said fam multiplied

Let God be their guide

They're glad the two opted to marry!

— Bruce Hansen

To the tune of the Jeeves and Wooster introductory music:

Su-san is my favorite girl

She’s my diamond, emerald, pearl

She’s my hon-stance

I’m her bun-stance

She makes my flag of life unfurl.

Courting her was one mad, crazy swirl

Like trying to catch a zigging-zagging squirrel

One time she dissed me,

But when she kissed me

She made all my hair uncurl!

Now she’s eighty

And what a lady!

Yes, Susan Hansen’s still my favorite girl.

— Gary Hansen

Ten thousand toasts, a thousand roasts.

Rides and guests and late night hosts.

Camping trips, mending rips

Hugs and smiles and witty quips.

Assigning jobs, unruly mobs

arm-twisting of messy slobs

Lessons and practices, accompaniment,

Organ, piano, even the cornet.

Church service, friends of scouting,

Service everywhere, nothing doubting.

Help and encouragement, hopeful prayers

Worry and hope, unmeasured tears

Grateful hearts remember now

the faith and faithfulness you endowed.

Thank you for being our mom!

— Paula and Scott Bergeson

To the tune of  "Little Brother Vegetable"

"Major wastage!"; she'll declare

When food's left behind,

Tiny Dad's head microscopic

Teasing, ever kind.

Put away your sack of grocrets!

In a tone of steel,

Murphyl! is the word she'll say

If something's off the wheel!

How's the food? We'll ask her, and

"adequate" she'll say,

Leftovers from days gone by,

Still perfectly good!

Oh, crumb! is what she'll utter

Just like a mom should.

Watch it, buster! from the car,

Shouted at the rest,

Eighty years of love like this—

Grandma is the best!

— Brian Hansen

At the church, she spoke with grace and might,

Gary felt a spark; oh, what a sight!
With strength of testimony, wisdom unfurled,
He pictured Susan, a gem in this world.
A mother so caring, her heart pure and bright,
Eleven small blessings, her joy and delight.
Chicken and biscuits filled tables each night,
Her nicknames and jingles soaring in flight.
Piano notes lingered from rooms filled with love,
Holidays gathered like stars up above.
Family institute awards stacked in joyful display,
Scriptures, prayers, and job charts on a grateful buffet.
Game nights were magic—it’s there he could see,
Traditions like threads weaving memories free.
Hot dogs for many shared under the sun,
Austrian dishes for Dad when day’s work was done.
Funny letters at Christmas spread cheer far and wide,
Homemade donuts that brought childhood inside.
Through sledding and skating ‘neath blankets of white,
She lived an abundance—oh what pure delight!
For Gary envisioned through the talk finely spun:
A partner in life—their journey begun.

— Michelle Hansen

Grandma’s House

Over the roads to the cul-de-sac,
To Grandma’s house we go
We’ve waited for hours for Mom to take us
For Grandma’s fresh-baked dough
We’ll play in the yard for an hour or two,
And watch the garden grow
We’ll sit on the porch with homemade ice cream
While she plays on her piano
It’s here that we learn to serve the Lord
And together we laugh and love
It seems that these moments at Grandma’s house
Bring us closer to Heaven above

— Clyn Hansen

A Walk with Grandma

A little girl
just got two new little sisters.
Hooray!
Grandma comes to visit.
Grandma made new doll dresses.
Who needs dolls
when you have baby sisters?
Baby sisters so small
they fit into your doll clothes.
The little girl goes on a walk with Grandma.
Walking down the street,
Grandma names every flower.
“That’s a Dahlia”
“That’s a Zinnia”  
“Those are cosmos” 
The little girl thinks,
I didn’t know people could know
the name of all the flowers in the world.
Now she’s grown
and she’s trying to learn
the names of the flowers.
And when she knows one,
she thinks of Grandma.

— Maria Hansen

Happy birthday, Mom! We're lucky to have you in our lives.