Happy Mother's Day

Happy Mother's Day to all you moms out there. I'm missing my precious Mom today and have already flipped through some pictures, remembering fun times we spent together, conversations we shared (especially in those last days), all while I'm also thinking of how the best is yet to come! And how she's praying me Home even now. I love you, Mom!

Erma Bombeck possessed such fabulous wit and insight, and one of my favorite writings of hers is Why Don't You Grow Up? I kept it close at hand while my kids were growing up, and read it often. Bombeck's words helped give me perspective as a mother. They still do.

Why Don't You Grow Up

By Erma Bombeck

One of these days you’ll shout, “Why don’t you kids grow up and act your age?”

And they will.

Or “You guys get outside and find yourselves something to do. And don’t slam that door!” 

And they will.

You’ll straighten up the boy’s bedroom, all neat and tidy, stickers discarded, bedspreads tucked neat and smooth, toys on the shelves. Hangers in the closet. Animals in their places. And you’ll say out loud, “Now I want it to stay that way."

And it will.

You’ll prepare a perfect dinner with a salad that hasn't been picked to death and a cake with no finger traces in the icing and you’ll say, “Now there’s a meal for company.” 
And you’ll eat it alone.

You’ll say, “I want privacy on the phone, no pantomiming going on behind me. No demolition crews. Silence! Do you hear?”
And you’ll have it.

No more plastic tablecloths stained with spaghetti sauce. No more bedspreads to protect the sofa from damp bottoms. No more gates to stumble over at the top of the stairs. No more anxious nights under a vaporizer tent. No more sand on the sheets or Popeye movies in the bathroom. No more iron on patches or wet knotted shoestrings, or rubber bands for ponytails.

Imagine. A lipstick with a point on it.

No baby sitter for New Year’s Eve. And washing only once a week. Having your teeth cleaned without a baby on your lap. No PTA meetings. No car pools. No blaring radios. No one washing her hair at eleven o’clock at night. Having your own roll of Scotch tape.

Think about it. No more Christmas presents out of toothpicks and library paste. No more sloppy oatmeal kisses. No more tooth fairy. No giggles in the dark. No knees to heal. No responsibility. 

Only a voice crying, "Why don’t you grow up?"

And the silence echoing, “I did.”

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Now off to enjoy my own Mother's Day, and praying (for you moms) that you do yours too!