Monday, May 14, 2007

Small Blessings, and Not

Yesterday was Mother's Day. I was planning to post a couple of poems, one that I wrote about being a mother, and another that I wrote about my own mother. But the day got busy and there was franticness and a whole-house aura of gloom-and-doom about the kitchen floor (which has been torn up, and, lucky family! It's all torn up in front of the sink and we can't walk on it now, so washing dishes and running the dishwasher are both inadvisable), and then we got tangled up in the return of Tyke from a sleepover, baseball practice and two baseball games (one of which was an impromptu playdate). All that was followed by trips to the hardware store and Radio Shack for necessary boy-project supplies.

To put it mildly, the day didn't go so well for this mom. I was hoping for some quiet.


On Saturday, when asked what I wanted to do, I announced my Sunday plans: 1) I was not chauffeuring anyone anywhere; 2) I was not attending any events; 3) I was not cleaning anything; 4) I was not doing any favors; 5) I was not doing any dishes; 6) when I came down after sleeping in in the morning I wanted all the washed dishes put away; 7) I was neither cooking nor preparing anything for myself; #8 I wanted to hear the laundry going all day, but none of it would be done by me.

#s 1 and 2 fell apart right away. I chauffeured, and attended a baseball game, and chauffeured again.

#3? I got so disgusted with the kitchen counter that I cleaned it. And I made the bed because its dishevelment gave me the creeps.

Given my decree, #4 fell under the auspices of #s 1, 2 and 3.

#5 was interpreted by the Testosterone League (who outnumber me by three) as, "Neither are we, of course, so that means we'll just do what we always do, leave them there and wait until it's not Mother's Day or your birthday anymore and you'll wind up having to do them anyway."

#6 came at the price that while I wanted to sleep in, I couldn't because they made so much noise putting the dishes (which I had washed) away. Oh, and the birds were making such a racket, and the window was open and the traffic was loud, and despite the "shade" being down the room was a beacon of light, and then the frigging phone rang just to finish it all off for me, and of course no one else answered even though they were up and knew I was still in bed.

#7 Since I wasn't cooking, they foraged for themselves, and I didn't get anything to eat.

#8 didn't happen because either they weren't home or they were doing something else.

So I'll save the planned poetry post for later. Because of yesterday, I have a lot more poetry to write about being a mother, so it's gonna take a while.

Forget breakfast in bed. Unheard of in this domicile. Did someone even think of making a cup of coffee? I had to make it myself, just like every other day of the year. A gift? Don't be silly. At some point while I was sitting on the sofa, a muffled whisper came from the computer corner where #1 Son was IM-ing. "Ha--- m------ d-- M--." What? Did he say something?

I did, however, upon descending the stairs, find a hastily made printer-paper card on the landing. Tyke does not like to draw, as will soon become apparent. In looking at the card, you might think he is in kindergarten. But he's actually rapidly heading toward middle school. If I didn't love him and the card so much, and if he didn't have so many other more promising skills, I'd think it was just sad. I suspected that his father had forced him to do it at the last minute under extreme duress. And, for a kid who always scores 100% on his spelling and punctuation for school, it's downright pathetic.

But many years of neglect by my offspring have left me sniffing for the slightest crumbs of love, so I'll post the crumbs here.

I thought it interesting that he depicted himself as a baby in a high chair saying "Momma." It's true that we both look back on that and remember it being a very happy time. He still occasionally asks me if I remember when we used to have our daily cuddle time before toddling down to the school to get big brother from kindergarten.

Funny, too, that my shoes are so big. I'm wearing Earth shoes lately.

Inside (in his spelling): "You make the best food in the world! Thank you for giving me the cloths on my back and the food in my stumach. You are great!" Picture interpreted: knife to left of plate. Steaming plate. Fork. Even though that is not the order in which he sets the table. Shorts. Tee shirt. Sorry attempt at shoes with laces; at first I thought they were flies. They're kind of Charlie-Brownlike.

"You let me do lots of things like have my friends over ahd help sign me up for baseball. Thanks for that mom!" WHYBL stands for our baseball league. When asked who the "Yo" person was, Tyke replied, "I don't know. It's just some dude."


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