Ode to Mom – 2008
[Yes, this is a little late; sue me.]
She’s not the “fairest in the land”,
Nor is she the smartest,
But she’s my Mom.
She’s not the fastest runner,
Nor is she bestest cook,
But she’s my Mom.
She’ll never win the spelling bee,
Nor the Nobel Prize,
But she’s my Mom.
She’s no Joan of Arc,
Nor a Madame Curie,
But she’s my Mom.
Her home won’t win any decorating prizes, but it has character in spades.
Her food will only occasionally be found in actual published books, but it comforts the soul.
Her photos won’t be in fancy magazines and her paintings won’t likely be coming to a gallery near you, but that doesn’t mean those of us who have received them as gifts don’t cherish them.
And if if comes to quoting Pink Panther movies (“Does your dog bite?”),
Or if you need a tasty dish,
Or if a true friend is someone you desperately need,
Or if a water-fight is called for (“Is it 80° outside?!”),
Or if you just want to go for a drive … late at night … and listen to old-time scary radio shows,
Or if you’re craving a wee bit of rhubarb and a swing on the swings-of-lawn,
Or if you honestly, truly need you picture taken (“just one more … no really, this is the last one … oh for Pete’s sake, would you just hold still?!”),
Or if you need an anthropological excursion,
Or someone to calm your pre-Prom jitters,
Or if you need someone to read a bed-time story,
Or to tell you that the Boogey-man won’t get you … probably,
Or need someone to wait up for you to make sure that you make it home safe (when coming home late at night) and are not lying somewhere in a ditch,
Well then, my Mom is just the ticket.
She has been my friend, my confidant, my adviser. Yup, she’s my mom and I wouldn’t trade her for yours for nothin’.
“Don’t use you teeth as tools.”
“If you keep that up, your face’ll freeze that way.” (moms are required to say this regularly to their offspring)
(After a summer of all us kids continually asking “what if” questions at a rate approaching thirty an hour)
“AAGH! No more ‘What-if…?’ questions! I MEAN IT!”
“… but what if we find a dead man in the freezer?”
“Uhg, it’s enough to hark a dog.” (we’re still not sure what this means.)
“Vacuum other half of piano” (on my chore list one summer’s day)
“I will support your decision, but I want my grand-babies raised with Christ as the center of their lives.”
“Oh bird!”
“I thought you were dean in a ditch somewhere.” (said at least weekly during my teen years)
“Oh no, you’re turning into one of those.” (when I started growing a pony tail)
“What you need is closure.”
“Did you brush your teeth?”
“Do you want a ‘Hurtz Donut’?” (said to a seven year old as he came up to the bright, cheery kitchen from the dark, spooky, spider-ridden basement in our hundred year old house)
“AAAAAGHGH!!” (don’t ask; it involved a Put-Put(tm) drill)
“Would you please stop sneaking?!” (I can’t help it if I have a light tread)
“Not in the house!“
“What did you say?!” (followed by much back-pedaling)
Oh! And how could anyone forget
“Show teeth!”
I love you, Mom. Thanks for putting up with me and raising me as well as, and with as much love as you did.
t.
May 15th, 2008 at 23.46 -0600
I’m SO glad you didn’t get closure!
Here’s some you forgot:
It’s enough to frost your bottom.
If I have to come down there…–or up there.
It’s “dead” in a ditch. And I’m still worrying about it.
I’ve figured out what church you and Wes belong to. Her Lady of the Sunday Mattress.
And you decision was a good one. You and The Soap Queen are raising the children with Christ as the center of their lives. They will all grow up strong and good, son. Thank you for being the kind of dad I knew you could be.
And I’m sorry about the Hurtz donut. Again. But…it was funny, wasn’t it?
And I love you, with all my little peaked heart,
Mom
May 16th, 2008 at 9.24 -0600
Ha! I’d forgotten about “the church” … but as I remember it, it was “Her Lady of the First Pillow.” And as we all know, there’s nothing wrong with my memory. {knocks on wood}
Oh, excuse me, there’s someone at the door.
{wanders off, humming “Give, Said the Little String”}