Mar

5

Share a Story #1

Posted by jesstrump

March 5, 2007 |

messy-face.jpgI want to open Mommy Babble up to other mothers, grandmothers, fathers, grandfathers, aunts, uncles, or anyone else who loves children to be able to share their thoughts.  If you have written a poem or song or have been inspired by an author who has written about children or parenting, share it with me.  It could be my next post!  Today’s excerpt was submitted by Fran Long a mother of 3 and grandmother of 5.  She wants to encourage all mothers of young children to enjoy each stage of parenting.

No More Oatmeal Kisses-  written Jan.29 1969 by Erma Bombeck  revised by me in 2007

  A young mother writes:  ” I know you’ve written before about the empty-nest syndrome, that lonely period after the children are grown and gone. Right now I’m up to my eyeballs in laundry and muddy boots.  The baby is teething: the boys are fighting.  My husband just called and said to eat without him, and I fell off my diet. Lay it on me again, will you?”

  Ok.    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 the door!”  And they won’t.

  You’ll straighten up the boy’s bedroom neat and tidy: video games put away, comforters all smooth, toys displayed on the shelves.  Hangers in the closet.  Animals caged. And you’ll say out loud, “Now I want it to stay this 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 complete privacy on the phone.  No dancing around. No demolition crews.  Silence!  Do you hear?”  And you’ll have it.

  No more plastic tablecloths stained with spaghetti.  No more sippy cups found behind the sofa. No more gates to stumble over at the top of the stairs  No more playpens to arrange a room around.

  No more anxious nights hoping the sheets will stay dry.  No more magnets on the refrigerator with the latest drawing from school.  No more wet knotted shoestrings by the front door.

  Imagine.  A chapstick with no fingerprints in it. .  Not having to arrange for a baby-sitter for New Year’s Eve.  Washing only once a week.  Seeing a steak that isn’t ground.  Having your teeth cleaned without a baby on your lap.

  No PTA meetings.  No car pool.  No loud CD’s.  No one washing her hair at 11 o’clock at night.  Having your own roll of Scotch tape. 

  Think about it.  No more Christmas presents from the dollar store .  No more sloppy oatmeal kisses.  No more tooth fairy.  No giggles  in the dark.  No knees to kiss and make better. 

  Only a voice crying, “Why don’t you grow up?” and the sience echoing , ” I did.”


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