Wet Oatmeal Kisses
The baby is teething;The children are crying.Your husband just called and said "Eat dinner without me.
"One of these days you'll explode and shout to the kids,"Why don't you grow up and act your age?"And they will.
Or "You guys get outside and find yourself something to do,"and "don't slam the door!"And they don't.
You'll straighten their bedrooms 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'll yell, "I want complete privacy on the phone — no screaming! Do you hear me?"And no one will answer.
No more plastic tablecloths with stains of spaghetti.No more dandelion bouquets.No more iron-on patches.No more wet knotted shoelaces,muddy boots, or rubberbands for ponytails.
Imagine a lipstick with a point!
No babysitter for New Year's 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 wash.
Only a voice asking — "Why don't you grow up?"
And a silent echo — "I did."
— Author Unknown
This broke my heart...My wish, for all young mothers out there, is to Really read this poem with... their hearts. That would make me...happy.
