Rocket Scientists, Needle-Nosed Pliers And Krispy Kreme Donuts ... Part II

Rocket Scientists, Needle-Nosed Pliers And Krispy Kreme Donuts ... Part II

Okay lemme get back to this really big gripe I need to squelch....

Pulling a soap box over and stepping up on it....

Getting out a megaphone...

Clearing my throat....

Sam Walton clones 6,200 Sunshine Grannies.

The lady with the purple hair was there again, smiling with her "I Love Lucy" lips and black painted-on eyebrows. She must work opposite me, because she is always here when I walk in. You know who I'm talking about. Everyone has seen her there. She's the incessantly joyful Wal-Mart greeter. It doesn't matter which Wal-Mart I walk into, she's always there. Always a smile. I looked her in the eye as she offered me a shopping cart with a cheery smile. I was about to ask her if she farts sunshine, and burps rainbows, but I just smiled and said, "Thank you, have a nice day!" and I entered to get my Needle-Nosed Pliers. As I walked past the concession stand my cart ran smack dab right into the Film Drop Off Center because I was looking at the newest video on display. Why did I take Granny Sunshine's offered cart you wonder? For two reasons. One: It holds my purse as I shop ... hey it gets heavy! And two, it deters people from invading my space. I hate when I'm looking on a shelf and someone reaches over or around me. Stretching stinky armpits closer and closer. So I always accept the gift of a shopping cart. I create my own little world in Wally World. Thank you Granny Sunshine.

Why do they stick displays of goodies, the best goodies in front of fat ladies???

I meander when I shop. Men hate this. I like to look. I usually remember that I need things when I meander. Then I saw them, there on the right stood the most delicious, most tantalizing treat my mouth could hope for....an entire display of cream filled chocolate frosted Krispy Kreme donuts. I stopped and felt the boxes. I counted the yummy treats in each box. Six. Six thrilling donuts in each box. I stroked the side on the box where the flaps meet. I caressed the cellophane until it sang to me. Then I walked away. NO! I wasn't going to succumb to the seduction. Butt. Thighs. Chins.... I chanted my mantra. Butt, Thighs, Chins....buttthighschinsbuttthighschins. I nearly ran over the Hallmark Man stocking the shelves as I ran from the display. Krispy Kreme should be ashamed of themselves putting these mmmm delicious, mmmm delightful, mmmm dreamy donuts in a huge stack in front of fat women. Jeez, I was ticked off as I headed toward the tool section. Now I couldn't think of anything except those damn (sweet decadent) donuts.

Houdini reincarnated as a box of Krispy Kremes.

I forced myself into the tool isle and found a super heavy duty pair of needle-nosed pliers. These have a flexible handle with a soft grip. They looked much sturdier, more ... manly than the ones my daddy called shit. I turned to put them in my cart, and there sitting all alone in my cart was one flapped, cellophaned green and white printed box of six Krispy Kreme cream filled, chocolate frosted donuts. I was to say the least, surprised to see them there. I took them into my shaking hands. My eyes darted around, cautiously looking for the culprit who put these perfect pastries in my cart. I slowly let out my breath and placed the box, ever so gently atop of toolboxes and just to the left of a rack of hammers. I quietly turned my cart and left the tool isle.

Floral printed, scented trash bags, boy do I need those!

The thought of the mysterious donuts wouldn't leave me as I carted through the store. I needed some garbage bags. So I headed that way. As I meandered, I looked at candles, lamps, electronics, shoes and passed a air freshener display. I hooked a right and directed my cart into the paper goods isle. I was still a little bewildered over the appearance of those donuts. Don't think too much on it I told myself. I looked for the garbage bags I need. How many ways can a person throw away trash? A huge array of bags, scented, colored, twisty-tie, floral printed, large, larger and huge were stacked on the shelves.. I chose my standard white with red tie handles. I put them in my cart, next to the needle-nosed pliers and ... "What the heck is going on here?!?!" Donuts!... in my cart! I left them sitting on top of toolboxes and here they were again!

Sunshine and hot pavement clear my head.

I left them in the possessed cart and grabbed up the garbage bags and the needle-nosed pliers in my hands. Damn the stinky armpits, damn my personal space, damn my purse shoulder. I had to get a jar of spaghetti sauce and get the heck outta here. One more isle and I can be gone. Done with thoughts of mystifying magically appearing donuts. I strode purposefully to the check-out counter. With three items I could go through the fast lane. I paid for my things. $28.36 seemed a lot for what I bought, but my daddy needed a pair of needle-nosed pliers that weren't for shit, so I guess you have to pay for what you get. I took the bag and left, walking half a mile to the doors I entered though. I glanced at the commanding display of cream filled, chocolate frosted Krispy Kreme donuts on the way out the self opening doors, and I guess I gave a little shriek because Granny Sunshine asked me, with her ever present smile, if I was okay. Yeah, I'm fine...now. I got out in the sunny parking lot and was fine.

Spaghetti is on the menu for dinner tonight.

I got home and put my bag on the table. I left it there as I went about my routine of the evening. Thoughts of donuts pursuing me gone from head as I pulled out the makings of dinner. I needed the spaghetti sauce for my dinner and I finally got around to emptying the bag. Garbage bags...check. Spaghetti sauce ...check. Needle-nosed pliers .. check. The bag still had something in it......you guessed it, one box of cream filled, chocolate frosted Krispy Kreme donuts. How they got in there I'll never know. I ran away from them the store. I hid them in the tool isle. I raced from them in the paper-goods department. Yet here they are, in that trademarked green and white box. Cellophane glinting rainbows across my kitchen as I looked at them.

Dinner is served.

I skipped the spaghetti and had donuts for dinner. There are still two more in the box on the counter in the kitchen ... for tomorrow I tell myself. I'm wondering if the next time I go to Wal-Mart, I use the opposite set of doors, the door where the flowers are on display ... if I'll find a fragrant bouquet in my bag when I get home? I doubt it.

I am smiling...

love me later ... tj

 

Rocket Scientists, Needle-Nosed Pliers And Krispy Kreme Donuts

Rocket Scientists, Needle-Nosed Pliers And Krispy Kreme Donuts.

I have a really big gripe I need to squelch....

Pulling a soap box over and stepping up on it....

Getting out a megaphone...

Clearing my throat....

Oh, wait, I need to tell y'all this first ....

(Stepping down from the soap box, putting away the megaphone, getting a cup of coffee...)

I was in the Wal-Mart the other day, buying an innocuous pair of needle-nosed pliers. The reason I was in the Wal-Mart on this day buying such a foreign object to me was ....

Happy Birthday Daddy, we are so sorry for the awful gift.

Skip back two days and I was helping my dad take off the top from the bed of his truck. They were going to a my baby cousins wedding up north and my cousin's husband (one of my favorite sorta related people) was borrowing my daddy's bush-hog machine. It is a rather unwieldy device so the cover had to come off. A few years back all us kids pitched in and bought my daddy what we thought was the best soft top on the market for his birthday. What we didn't know is that you needed to hold stock in Craftsmen Tool Company and have a rocket scientist nearby every time the thing comes off or goes on. Well there we were with our arm sleeves rolled up, prayers and motivational chants said, we were ready!

Daddy: "Hold this while I find the wrench to go on that bolt".

Me: "Hold what?"

Daddy: "That piston."

Me shaking my head as I walk toward the hood of the truck wondering what in the world ...

NEWSFLASH! ... The Detroit Pistons Visit Itty Bitty Cow Town.

Daddy: "Where are you going? Hold that piston."

Me: "Daddy, aren't pistons under the hood?"

Daddy: "Yes they are under the hood, in Detroit playing basketball, and right here, it's that black and silver thingy that looks like a door holder thingamabob".

Me suddenly knowing exactly what he is talking about:"Oh, well why didn't you just say that in the first place?"

I held it while he fussed, and complained, and cursed. Finally he got a turn on the nut. Then on to the other side. Then back again to loosen the nut that sits inside the nut, except ...

Daddy: "SHIRL!!"

Mom: "What I'm right here, no need to yell, I been standing here being very amused watching you two buffoons and your ridiculous antics".

Daddy: "I need the needle-nose pliers."

Supernatural Ability? Or 50+ Years Of Marriage?

Mom spooking me with her ability to instinctually know what daddy was going to say, whips out not only one pair, but two, thin and a tad thinner and she flashes him a Cheshire Cat grin. Daddy makes this hurumhing noise and turns around to get back at the job at hand. 15 minutes and gallons of sweat later the nut budges.

Daddy: "SHIRL!!"

Mom: "Still right here".

Daddy: "Don't we have any better needle-nose pliers than these? These are for shit."

Mom: "Nope, that's it. I told you the last time we did this we needed a new pair, remember, you were cussing and I said, "We need to get a better pair of these" you agreed that the next time we went to Wal-Mart we'd get us a good pair, remember? Well we've been to Wal-Mart at least a million times since then and ....."

Dad makes a hurumhing noise and turns around abruptly to move that wretched nut. (Was it my mom's motivational speech that gave him the strength to loosen it?) Finally after a half hour of holding this, and loosening that, WD40-ing those, turning that, and twisting those...the top was off.

Here's to making a short story long.

So now you know why I was in the Wal-Mart looking for a good pair of needle-nosed pliers.

Now back to my really big gripe that needs squelching....

Pulling the soap box back over and stepping up on it....

Getting out the megaphone...

Clearing my throat....

and I am smiling...

love me later ~ tj

I saw a skeleton and then I started to cry.

The lady poured some kind of sticky syrup all over her belly.

Daughter: "It's Coooold".

Lady: "Sorry".

Me: "Sit still so she can get on with the show".

Daughter: "BUT IT'S COLD!"

Brody: "oohmagaayeda"

The lady powered up the machine.

Me: "I can't stand this".

Daughter: "Me either, it's still cooooold and sorta goopy feeling".

Me: "Becca, Please sit still so she can get on with the show"

Me: "Brody honey, don't eat that cord".

Me "Not that one either".

Me: Handing him a cracker "Eat this".

Brody: "oohmagaayeda".

The lady poised the handle over her belly.

Me: "Oh my lord I can't take it any longer, can you tell yet?"

Lady: "No".

Me: "WILL YOU PLEASE sit still so she can get on with the show"

Daughter: "Why exactly did I bring you here mommy?"

Me: "So you wouldn't have to walk".

Daughter: "Well there is that".

Daughter: "Yow, jeez I need to pee".

Brody: "PeePeePeePeePeePeePeePeePee".

Me: "Jeez Becca, now look what you taught him to say".

The lady flicked on the screen.

Daughter: "There now you happy mommy?"

Me: "No, can she tell me yet?"

Lady: "No".

Me "Oh Sweet Jesus, Is That Her Heart??"

Lady: "You want it to be a girl?"

Me: "Hell Yeah".

Brody: "hellhellhellhellhellHELLhellhell".

Daughter: "Jeez Mommy, now look what you taught him to say".

A recognizable body part came onto the screen.

Not a sound in the room. Then ...

Daughter: "Oh, my gosh".

Me: "Oh my gosh".

Lady: "It's pretty amazing isn't it?"

Brody: "Gossgossgossgossgossgossgoss".

Then ...

Me: "It's her face! Ohhhhhh loooooooook!"

Daughter: "It looks like you mommy".

Me: Through tears and snuffles, "It looks like a skull".

Lady: "It is, I need measurements".

Me: "Can you look for the rumpus?"

Lady: "We have a long time, I need a lot of measurements".

Lady: "What's a rumpus?"

Me: "It's her butt".

Brody: "buttbuttbuttbuttbuttbuttbuttbutt".

Daughter: "MOMMY!"

What seemed like an eternity later....

Me: "Boog, please eat the crackers, not the couch cushion, couches are for sitting not eating".

Brody: "Numnumnumnumnumnum".

Daughter: "You said the E-A-T word".

Me: "Brody lets look at the baby".

Brody: "BaybeeBaybeeBaybeeBaybee".

Lady: "Okay here's what you came to see Grandma".

The tiniest of full moons came into view. I stared in wonderment and awe. There are no words I can say that puts into perspective what I saw last Wednesday. She is most defiantly a she. I saw it myself through the miracle of science and technology, I was able to look inside my daughter's womb and see my tiny granddaughter. I saw her little heart, and cried when the Lady turned on the sound. I saw a perfect little foot come into view. Ten tiny fingers and ten tiny toes. A button nose. A mouth that sucks a thumb. She is in every way perfect and healthy, with the Lady's disclaimer, "We can't see all birth defects, but from everything gathered she appears right on schedule". I won't be able to hold her for another 4 months. The Lady took a photo of her for us. The photo depicts a golden dolls face. A three dimensional eerily beautiful photo of my unborn granddaughter. She is perfect. My daughter's tiny little daughter.

Cloey Jo.

and I smile through tears of joy and awe and relief.....

love me later ~ tj

June 10, 2007 "FREE Fish Saturday"

 

I am getting engaged!

I had gotten some gear at the local Wal-Mart a few days ago. I had asked a really cute grampa looking guy who I "bumped into" in the main fishing pole isle if he knew what I needed, and he being kind, (Did I mention he was cute?) took me all over the sporting goods department, pulling things off the hooks. I was watching how his hands grasped the things I would eventually buy. I watched his mouth moving, talking about hooks with a release capability but hearing him tell me about how he wanted to take me away from my drudgery, he was going to make me his date to the grandest gala we have seen in these parts, as his white horse high steps up to my house his carriage would hold gifts befitting a Queen, that I would be his girlfriend but only until he could find the ring befitting me, that the babies we would never have would be fun to try to make.... He found a baby pole that would fit my grandson. I wondered if My New Prince In Shining Armor had any grandchildren, when around the corner came a voice. "Honey, are you here?" A woman who wore a matching shirt as my new boyfriends walked into view. "There you are! I have been looking everywhere for you!" Smoochy kissy . Reckless, impetuous two timer! I thanked my ex-boyfriend for all the help and headed off to the check out counters with a shopping cart full of stuff I was certain I didn't need. A backpack with pole and tackle box and sunglasses? A life vest, hooks that magically released the fish unharmed once you caught them??? Lines, bobbers, weights??? All to take a one year old fishing on a free fish Saturday? FREE???

I was sentenced to 45 days.

I arrived at 9:30, only a half hour late today. Not bad! I was taking him to a kiddy fishing competition. His daddy cut his hair in a grossly unconventional way, and today his mommy had spiked it up. I saw my sweet Boog with this wild hair, and I laughed at his parents. Why they think they need to do this to him is way beyond me. To stand out? He already does. People come from far and near to see the most beautiful child ever born, and of course he is my grandson. They comment on how cute, sweet, adorable.... he is when we go out. People part ways to let this child walk through their midst... They don't need the mohawk. I wonder if I can go to jail for a visit to the barber shop? Hmmm "You malicious grandmother, you are hereby sentenced to do 45 days behind bars." I think I could handle 3 days worth and then I'd cry my way out.

She complained that he's the only one in a life vest, then the goose showed up.

Stuff was gathered and stowed in the truck. His Nana came out of the house to tell me that he ate first breakfast, and second breakfast, but 11'zies were fast approaching as she handed me a bag of snacks. Okay, so I took her snacks and didn't mention that I had not forgotten about feeding the kiddo. Hot dog lunched at the lodge were reserved for us. I just laughed and took the bag. We arrived at the rearing ponds, registered amongst the ooos and aaaahs as the Little Prince smiled and waved to everyone. Our lunch tickets stowed we were off to catch the biggest fish in the ponds! His daddy said he found the spot. He'd meet us there. His mommy was walking a stroller filled with the essentials becoming a Little Prince. I was holding his hand as he learned to walk in his life vest. He was top heavy-er and needed to find a new center of balance. Then my daughter spoke to me.

Daughter: "He is the only kid in a life vest".

Me: "They don't care if their kids fall into the ponds and drown. Remember we have the Little Prince here, we need to protect him".

Daughter: "But everyone is looking at him!"

Me: "They are looking at the goofy hair on the imperial child."

Daughter: "I'm going to walk ahead and catch up to his daddy".

Me: "Cya!"

That's when Boog spotted the Canadian geese with their broods. I hunkered down, (That doesn't present a pretty image. Let me try again ... I squatted next to him...I hovered around him....I gently placed my arm around him as I brought myself to his level ...okay you get it) next to him and held him close so he could see. The goose hissed, Brody laughed. The goose stepped closer, we stepped back. I averted Brody's attention and we walked on. I glanced, and I mean glanced away, and when I look back at The Little Guy, his arms were outstretched and he was toddle-running toward the geese! I snatched him up by the handle on his life vest so fast and swung him away from that mother goose. The life vest not only saved him from harm, but also saved the horrid scarring of a childhood. Imagine being attacked by Mother Goose. Intense therapy for years to overcome something like that!

I learn sportsman lingo.

His daddy had everything ready for us. I was grateful for the tryst in the sporting goods department at Wal-Mart with my two timing boyfriend. Looked like we did indeed need all that stuff. I sat down with Brody on the bank, he was thrilled with this new toy in his hands. He yanked at the string...line in fishy lingo. He didn't like the worms, er ... bait. I tossed out...cast the line. I gave the pole ...rod and reel to Brody. He held on like a pro. Until the fish took the bait. The pole flew out of his hands. I stepped on it, and held on. The fish didn't want to come out and play. It struggled. I shouted to his daddy, "We got a whopper here!" I put Brody's hand on the turner thing ... umm reel. It took both of us to reel that fish in. His mommy got the net. We did it! Brody caught the winning fish! We were certain that this fishing expedition would bring a shower of praise and prize. Brody was repulsed by the fish. He tentatively touched it. It hung on the line languorously. Then with it's will to survive, it started flopping. One jerk at first, then the momentum gained. It thrashed about. Brody cried. Then the momentum gained. He was screeching. We unleashed to fish from the hook. It floundered in the net. Brody held onto the net watching the fish as we walked to the measurement stand. The official measurement of the Little Prince's first catch? 3 and 3/4 inches long. We walked back to the pond and Brody waved bye-bye to the fish as we were glad that I listened to my ex-boyfriend's advice on catch-and-release hooks. Free to grow some more in the deep blue sea, that first fish is but a memory. A sweet, funny memory.

Section 25B paragraph 14 of the Grandmother's Manual

We fished around awhile longer and then the 11:30'zies came. Lunch. NOW. We walked up to the lodge and stood in line. "4 lunches please". We gathered the food, condiments, chips, and drink and sat at a huge round table. No highchairs in site. Brody sat between his mommy and me in a regular chair, one highly unbecoming to the bearing of The Little Prince. He didn't care. FOOD! NOW! His mommy ketchuped the hot dog. Then she handed it to him. Whole. Now I know a few things about hot dogs and kids. They love 'em. They choke to death on 'em. I let Brody get ketchupy and while he was busy with his tasty fingers, I ripped up the hot dog. Small bites. One at a time. His mommy spoke to me.

Daughter: "I know how to feed him MOM".

Me: "It's a wonder he'a survived it".

Daughter: "He does fine feeding himself".

Me: "You just said you know how to feed him".

Daughter: "He manages a hot dog fine. He has all his teeth, he can chew it up".

Me: "That;s fine with oatmeal and spaghetti, but not with hot dogs".

Daughter: "What's the big deal about hot dogs? He loves 'em".

Me: "Here, look at this". I passed my American Red Cross Grandmother's Training Manual to her.

Daughter: Rolls her eyes.

Me: "Read that passage" Pointing to Section 25B paragraph 14.

Daughter: "MOTHER!"

Me: "Fine, I'll read it to you, It states and I quote, "Daughter's should listen to their mother's sage advice when it comes to feeding a toddler hot dogs. Grandmother's know the dangers of this innocent food stuff that toddlers love to consume. Choking hazard of a hot dog on the choking scale - EXTREME - Take appropriate caution."

Daughter: "UGH!"

We looked at Brody, all happy with red sweet ketchup on every exposed piece of him, his hot dog eaten and starting on his chips. I started to open my American Red Cross Grandmother's Training Manual to the Chip section when my daughter walked away.

Ed McMahon Says $1,000,000.00 Could Be Yours!

I wouldn't trade this FREE fishing Saturday for a million bucks. Brody was so funny. My daughter and my son-in-law loving each other and loving their son. Brody riding high on his daddy's shoulders. Watching my daughter watch them with love and pride. The giggles and the laughter. The quirky banter that belongs to my daughter and me. I dropped them off at 2:30. I left them at Nana's house where they live. I kissed the sleeping Prince on his forehead and got in the truck. It's no wonder people come from far and near to catch a glimpse of him. He radiates a light that shines on my heart.

and I smile ...

love me later ... tj

In My Mother's Garden

My mother's garden is a place of peace when the blooms spread their fragrance and the dew drops on the magnificent colors. My mother tends her garden everyday. She's 69 years old and nearly every day from the spring thaw to the first flake of snow she tends her flowers. I wrote a poem about the legacy she gave me in her love of flowers once. It didn't turn out the way I wanted it to. It sounds like a cheap country song or a Hallmark facsimile. I'll leave it here, maybe you can help me put it straight... but this is about the peace my mother feels when she is amongst her flowers. Bugs bite her, sweat pours from her, chemicals irritate her, but she continues until she sees coming out of the ground what she knew was hidden in a crude bulb all along. She delights in the way the stems lift up toward the sky. She inspires those bulbs to be the most beautiful in the ground. She talks to them, cajoles them and then lovingly places them in the earth. Then she waits and watches. "See Tammy? I knew it would be the most beautiful one!" She tells me this as we go from flower to flower. Over and over I hear, ahhs, and ohhs, and see? Over and over again I see the enchantment in her eyes. The twinkle that was put there by a flower. I love my mother's flowers. They bring joy to her. They give her peace. They make her more beautiful, if that is even a possibility. The Iris Mother's hands tended flowers When they were oh, so very small, Grandma's hands would guide her, Showing her flowers, Loving them all. Out of Grandma's garden grew, A most amazing sight, A flower proud and beautiful, Of pure, angelic white. It was this snow-white flower, That Grandma loved the best, She tended this flower most graciously, No one would ever guess, That in this unsung flower, Many would recall, A shared and joyous moment, Watching spring nod off to fall. Years went by and seasons died, At heavens gate a daughter cried, To see her mother pass inside. Yet, a gift was given, And it was to be identified in... My hands that tended flowers When they were oh, so very small Mother's hands would guide me, Showing me flowers Loving them all. But, set apart from all the rest, Was the flower Mother loved the best. She tended this flower most affectionately, Guided by love, she might confess. Secret hands help tend this flower, Hands from heaven above, Unknowingly, together the flower Grows with love. Years went by and seasons died, At heavens gate a daughter cried, To see her mother pass inside. Yet, a gift was given, And it was to be identified in... The hands that now tend flowers, They are oh, so very small, My loving hands guide her, Showing her flowers, Loving them all. Together, we grow flowers, With eagerness and zest, But in a special corner grows, The one I love the best. It is this special flower, My daughter will come to know, As a friend, close and dear, While it flourishes and grows. The hands that tend the flowers Are oh, so very small, And they are drawn to one flower, That is the finest of them all. It holds within its petals, A shared love of women gone, And whispers of secret tomorrows, Of which will be her own. She holds this majestic flower, Up to the heavens above, And star lit eyes gaze down upon her, Filled with wonder, Filled with love. Years will slip by, and seasons will die, At heavens gate a daughter will cry, To see a mother pass inside, But, a gift will be given, And it will be identified in... The hands that tend the flowers.

love me later~tj

A Day Spent With Booger

A Day Spent With Booger

Spaghetti eaten with

Sandy fingers and

Wet toes

Toys pushed on

Chubby dimpled legs that

Run down the sidewalk as

YaYa gives chase

Beautiful smiles and

Squealed giggles are heard through

Perfect ears that mosquitos bite

Sleepy yawns make heavy

Eyes as the

Swing moves back and forth and

Back and forth and

Back and forth

Good night my sweet

A Day Spent with Booger©tjs5/29/07

and I am smiling...

love me later~tj

Entry for May 13, 2007 Mother's Day

Happy Mother's Day

This is for the mothers who have sat up all night with sick toddlers
in their arms, wiping up barf laced with Oscar Mayer wieners and cherry
Kool-Aid saying, "It's alright honey, Mommy's here." Who have sat in
rocking chairs for hours on end soothing crying babies who can't be
comforted.

This is for all the mothers who show up at work with spit-up in their
hair and milk stains on their blouses and diapers in their purse.
For all the mothers who run carpools and make cookies and sew Halloween
costumes. And all the mothers who DON'T.

This is for the mothers who gave birth to babies they'll never see. And
the mothers who took those b abies and gave them homes. And for the
mothers who lost their baby in that precious 9 months that they will
never get to watch grow on earth but one day will be reunited with in
Heaven!

This is for the mothers whose priceless art collections are hanging on
their refrigerator doors. And for all the mothers who froze their buns
on metal bleachers at football or soccer games instead of watching from
the warmth of their cars, so that when their kids asked, "Did you see
me, Mom?" they could say, "Of course, I wouldn't have missed it for the
world," and mean it.

This is for all the mothers who go hungry, so their children can eat.
For all the mothers who read "Goodnight, Moon" twice a night for a year.
And then read it again. "Just one more time."

This is for all the mothers who taught their children to tie their
shoelaces before they started school. And for all the mothers who opted
for Velcro instead.

This is for all the mothers who teach their sons to cook and their
daughters to sink a jump shot.

This is for every mother whose head turns automatically when a little
voice calls "Mom?" in a crowd, even though they know their own offspring
are at home -- or even away at college.

This is for all the mothers who sent their kids to school with stomach
aches assuring them they'd be just FINE once they got there, only to
get calls from the school nurse an hour later asking them to please pick
them up. Right away.

This is for mothers whose children have gone astray, who can't find the
words to reach them.

This is for all the step-mothers who raised another woman's child or
children, and gave their time, attention, and love... sometimes
totally unappreciated!

For all the mothers who bite their lips until they bleed when their
14-year-olds dye their hair green.

For all the mothers of the victims of recent school shootings, and the
mothers of those who did the shooting. For the mothers of the survivors, and the mothers who sat in front of their TVs in horror, hugging their child who just came home from school,
safely.

This is for all the mothers who taught their children to be peaceful,
and now pray they come home safely from a war.

What makes a good Mother anyway? Is it patience? Compassion? Broad
hips? The ability to nurse a baby, cook dinner, and sew a button on a
shirt, all at the same time? Or is it in her heart? Is it the ache you
feel when you watch your son or daughter disappear down the street,
walking to school alone for the very first time? The jolt that takes you
from sleep to dread, from bed to crib at 2 A.M. to put your hand on the
back of a sleeping baby? The panic, years later, that comes again at 2
A.M. when you just want to hear their key in the door and know they are
safe again in your home? Or the need to flee from wherever you are and
hug your child when you hear news of a fire, a car accident, a child
dying?

The emotions of motherhood are universal and so our thoughts are for
young mothers stumbling through diaper changes and sleep
deprivation...And mature mothers learning to let go.

For working mothers and stay-at-home mothers.

For foster mothers and family memebers who suddenly became someone else's 'mother'.

Single mothers and married mothers.

Mothers with money, mothers without.

This is for you all. For all of us. Hang in there.

In the end we can only do the best we can.

Tell them every day that we love them.

And pray.

"Home is what catches you when you fall - and we all fall."

and I am smiling....

love me later ~ tj