~I heard the cutest little voice yell very loudly ‘Shut up you jack—!’ and turned around to see an adorable little 3 year old glaring at his squalling baby sister.  Once upon a time I would have frowned at the mother (who was already wearing a mortified look on her beet red face) but today I know kids are going to say what kids are going to say when it is most embarrassing for the parents. While it is possible that Mom does cuss in front of the children, it’s just not fair to assume that her child learned his vocabulary from her.  I never said ‘Die you b—–d’ in front of young Zack yet he still screamed it in his best Conan impression shortly after we moved to Colorado and some of our new neighbors came to visit.  That was not the first time I wore that mortified look on my beet red face, nor was it to be the last.  I can’t wait for Zack to marry and have children so I can introduce my grand babies to Conan the Barbarian movies.  My son needs a little color in his face.

Everything I know worth knowing, I learned either as a child or from a child.

Lessons in Life, Dreams: Don’t give up on your dreams. Set them aside and try again later. If you can’t skip a rock on a pond in the summer, try in the winter when the pond is frozen over.

Rocky has always been ‘out skipped’ by her siblings, but the other day we actually lost count of the number of times her rock skipped (bounced) on the icy pond. It had to have been some kind of record!

Dear Santa,

Listen up Mister, I’ve been a mother for 25 years and I am putting my foot down once and for all.  I am tired of YOU getting ALL the credit for MY hard work!

You don’t spend the entire year making toys in your toy shop for good boys and girls, Mattel and Hasbro do, and then I have to hazard the crazed hoards of other parents in search of the perfect toy for Little Jimmy and Little Suzy, I fore go meals of substance and settle for bologne sandwiches in the months leading up to Christmas so I can afford these toys which YOU DO NOT provide for free.  I stay up until 3am Christmas morning wrapping said toys and fall into bed only to be awaken a short hour later by my excited children exclaiming ‘Santa was here, Santa was here!’

Never again!  This year all of the tags on the brightly and meticulously wrapped presents will bear my name.  Mom.  There will be nothing under the tree suggesting that you had any part in the gift giving.  Your days of glory are over Bucko, so put this in your pipe and smoke it!

Sincerely, Mom~

ps: Merry Christmas!

“mrrrrrrrrrp”
 
Through the fog of sleep I become aware of the vibrating purr of my cell phone which I keep tucked under my pillow, a habit left over from when my son was serving in Iraq. Blurry eyes struggle to focus on the tiny screen. The digital clock reads 6:04 am. A little envelope and phone icon indicates that I have a text message.
 
1-800-Oompa1: Hey Mom

I try to remember how to spell ‘hey’, and numb fingers trip over the miniature keypad. Through crossed eyes I miss the [send] button and click on [delete] instead. I cuss and my husband snorts in his sleep beside me. Did he just say ‘quarter’, which is what we charge each other for swearing.

1-800-Oompa1: R U awake?

1-800-MOM: No, I’m texting in my sleep.

1-800-Oompa1: What’s 4 breakfast?

1-800-MOM: Fingernails, boogers and spit.

1-800-Oompa1: Can I have lunch $

1-800-MOM: No, eat left-over breakfast.

At times technology has it’s merits, but not at 6:04 am, and certainly not for breakfast and lunch money. I spend way too much money on multiple cell phones on the family plan so I can keep track of my little private army of dna… and the culprit for their existence… their father! I rarely have to call them, but I can almost guarantee that when I do need to contact them via the cell phone, they will not answer.

Except at 6:04 am, when the breakfast menu is in question.

“mrrrrrrrrrp”

1-800-Oompa2: Psst.

1-800-MOM: snoring!

1-800-Oompa2: lol. You should give me a ride 2 school.

1-800-MOM: No,I should stay in bed and sleep in.

1-800-Oompa2: I’ll make you a cup of coffee, you can have the last of the hazelnut creamer.

1-800-MOM: Start the car, I’ll be right out.

Yeah, technology sucks at 6:04 am. Especially when I didn’t get home from work and into bed until 12:35 am! The moment Micro-Soft comes up with a mobile, electronic Mom I’m signing up for one, I don’t care what it costs if it means that I can actually get more than 5 hours of sleep at night.

“mrrrrrrrrrp”

(1 hour later)

“mrrrrrrrrrp” 

1-800-Oompa3: Mommy, you owe me some ice cream.

“Mom, if you never, never, EVER make me wash the dishes EVER again, I promise I will do everything else twice as much, twice as fast and twice as good!”

That was my 15 year old daughter Rocky, who really hates to wash the dishes, but it could have been me 35 years ago.  At 15 I had determined that I was too young for dish pan hands so I avoided the sink as much as possible.  For that matter I avoided the vacuum and the washing machine as well.  I was more of a ‘mess maker’ than a ‘cleaner upper’ so I can relate with my daughter.

Except that I know: twice as much of nothing is nothing; twice as fast as not at all is never; and twice as good as bad is still bad. 

Like I said, it could have been me. 

So what did I do about Rocky?  I did what my Mama did for me… I washed the dang dishes myself  just so we’d have clean plates to eat off of.

Grrrr!  I hate washing dishes!  I remember naively thinking that with so many children, once they started doing chores I’d NEVER, EVER have to wash dirty dishes again!  Yeah, well, that NEVER, EVER happened.  I still have to wash dishes every day.

I should have stuck with having pets instead of children.  I guess I missed that lesson from Mama.  Or maybe she just never shared it with me.  You know the old saying:  “Grandchildren are parents’ revenge…”