5.11.2008
Wet Oatmeal Kisses - Being a Mom of three under 5
This photo is of that actual vacation....
When I was 25 years old I became the mother of three. My daughter had just turned 5 the day before I went into labor with my third child. My son was 3. The baby was a newborn. We drove on our annual family vacation to South Carolina with a cooler of food in the back of the minivan, about $400 in our pocket and uh, about $400 of that was for the hotel bill. Needless to say money was tight but it always had been so that was nothing new.While window shopping at one of the tourist shops I found a copy of this print for sale on a rack. $14.95.
It literally and honestly brought tears to my eyes. I stood in the busy tourist shop with tears running down my face because at the time, this prose captured what was going on in my life and the feelings I had about it. It found me at just the right time in my life. I wanted to buy the piece of cardboard with this prose on it so very badly!
I debated long and hard. So long actually that my husband took the three children out of the store and waited with them outside the store while I hmmed and hawed about spending $15 that we absolutely did. not. have.
In the end... I bought it. Using the credit card and cringing, I bought the print and later, went to Walmart for a frame. It has hung 'somewhere' in each of our 4 homes over the past 12 years and I can you it's one of the most true things you'll ever read.As I read it now I it doesn't touch me like it did then. My life is far different now than it was with three little ones under the age of 5.
But for all the young mommies out there going through this right now... I decided Mother's Day was a good time to post it.
This photo taken right before I bought the print.
Wet Oatmeal Kisses
“The baby is teething; the children are fighting. My husband just called and said to eat dinner without him.” One of these days you’ll shout;
“Why don’t you grow up and act your age!” - and they will.
Or “you guys go outside and find yourselves something to do... and don’t slam the door.”
- and they won’t.
You’ll straighten up their rooms neat and tidy... bumper stickers discarded... spreads tucked and smooth... toys displayed on the shelves... hangers in the the closet... animals caged and you’ll say out loud; “Now I want it to stay that way,” - and it will.
You’ll prepare a perfect dinner with a salad that hsan’t been picked to death and a cake with no finger traces in it 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 pantomimes, no demolition crews. Silence! do you hear?” - and you’ll have it.
No more plastic tablecloths stained with spaghetti, no more anxious nights under a vaporizer tent, no more dandelion bouquets, no more iron-on patches, knotted shoestrings, tight boots.
Imagine a lipstick with a point, no babysitter for New Years Eve, washing clothes only once a week, no P.T.A. meetings, carpools, blaring radios, Christmas presents out of toothpicks and paste. No more wet oatmeal kisses. No more toothfairy, giggles in the dark, or knees to heal.
Only a voice crying, “Why don’t you grow up?”
- and the silence echoing, “I did”.
Author Unknown
“The baby is teething; the children are fighting. My husband just called and said to eat dinner without him.” One of these days you’ll shout;
“Why don’t you grow up and act your age!” - and they will.
Or “you guys go outside and find yourselves something to do... and don’t slam the door.”
- and they won’t.
You’ll straighten up their rooms neat and tidy... bumper stickers discarded... spreads tucked and smooth... toys displayed on the shelves... hangers in the the closet... animals caged and you’ll say out loud; “Now I want it to stay that way,” - and it will.
You’ll prepare a perfect dinner with a salad that hsan’t been picked to death and a cake with no finger traces in it 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 pantomimes, no demolition crews. Silence! do you hear?” - and you’ll have it.
No more plastic tablecloths stained with spaghetti, no more anxious nights under a vaporizer tent, no more dandelion bouquets, no more iron-on patches, knotted shoestrings, tight boots.
Imagine a lipstick with a point, no babysitter for New Years Eve, washing clothes only once a week, no P.T.A. meetings, carpools, blaring radios, Christmas presents out of toothpicks and paste. No more wet oatmeal kisses. No more toothfairy, giggles in the dark, or knees to heal.
Only a voice crying, “Why don’t you grow up?”
- and the silence echoing, “I did”.
Author Unknown
Labels: Baby Fever, Happy Housewife, kids, rambling, vacation
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