Happy Mother's Day

Wet Oatmeal Kisses

One of these days you'll explode
And shout to all the kids,
"Why don't you just grow up
And act your age!"
And they will…

Or, "You guys get outside
And find something to do –
Without hurting each other
And don't slam the door!"
And they don't.

You'll straighten their bedrooms
Until it's all neat and tidy,
Toys displayed on the shelf,
Hangers in the closet,
Animals caged.
You'll yell, "Now I want it to stay this way!"
And it will…

You will prepare a perfect dinner,
With a salad that hasn't
Had all the olives picked out,
And a cake with no finger traces in the icing,
And you'll say, "Now this is a meal for company."
And you will eat it alone…

You'll yell, "I want complete privacy on the phone.
No screaming. Do you hear me?"
And no one will answer.

No more plastic tablecloths stained
No more dandelion bouquets.
No more iron-on patches.
No more wet, knotted shoelaces,
Muddy boots or
Rubber bands for ponytails.

Imagine…. a lipstick with a point,
No babysitters for New Years Eve,
Washing clothes only once a week,
No PTA meetings or silly school plays
Where your child is a tree,
No car pools,
Blaring stereos or
Forgotten lunch money.

No more Christmas presents
Made of library paste and toothpicks,
No wet oatmeal kisses,
No more tooth fairy,
No more giggles in the dark,
Scraped knees to kiss,
Or sticky fingers to clean.

Only a voice asking, "Why don't you grow up?"

And the silence echoes: "I did"

Erma Bombeck
(February 21, 1927 – April 22, 1996)

With more thanks to AF Mom Deb, who seems to have a knack for awesome posts that I want to share with people.