For the Mom's

I'm not the poetic type, I've mentioned this before. Oh sure, there are times when I appreciate the poetic form of communication, it serves to inspire and bring beauty to our lives. However, I'm not one for concerning myself with 'to rhyme or not to rhyme' in my own efforts to share.
So, on this day before a rather useless holiday which holds a lovely sentiment at it's heart, I thought I'd share a poem that was sent to me. For all the moms, I hope you receive what I've asked for as a gift tomorrow... free time. It's my wish that you are not dragged by your grumpy spouse and bored kids to an overcrowded, expensive restaurant and served semi-warm food by an overwhelmed staff. Too close to my usual morning routine at home for my taste.
I wish for every mother to know that what she does is infinitely valuable and appreciated. That your efforts do not go unnoticed and are priceless beyond your comprehension. GO get your hair cut, spend too much time at the local Beauty Supply, buy some fragrant lotion you don't need. Get a pedicure, buy a girly magazine. You know, the kind with fashionable clothes you'd never buy because they won't look good with toothpaste handprints on the hips and spit-up on the lapel. The kind with incredible sex tips that would require you to soundproof your bedroom walls.

So, without further preamble...

Mean Moms Someday when my children are old enough to understand the logic that motivates a parent, I will tell them, as my Mean Mom told me:

I loved you enough . . . to ask where you were going, with whom, and what time you would be home.

I loved you enough to be silent and let you discover that your new best friend was a creep.

I loved you enough to stand over you for two hours while you cleaned your room, a job that should have taken 15 minutes.

I loved you enough to let you see anger, disappointment, and tears in my eyes. Children must learn that their parents aren't perfect.

I loved you enough to let you assume the responsibility for your actions even when the penalties were so harsh they almost broke my heart.

But most of all, I loved you enough . . . to say NO when I knew you would hate me for it. Those were the most difficult battles of all.

I'm glad I won them, because in the end you won, too. And someday when your children are old enough to understand the logic that motivates parents, you will tell them.

Was your Mom mean? I know mine was. We had the meanest mother in the whole world!

While other kids ate candy for breakfast, we had to have cereal, eggs, and toast.

When others had a Pepsi and a Twinkie for lunch, we had to eat sandwiches.

And you can guess our mother fixed us a dinner that was different from what other kids had, too.

Mom insisted on knowing where we were at all times. You'd think we were convicts in a prison.

She had to know who our friends were, and what we were doing with them.

She insisted that if we said we would be gone for an hour, we would be gone for an hour or less.

We were ashamed to admit it, but she had the nerve to break the Child Labor Laws by making us work.

We had to wash the dishes, make the beds, learn to cook, vacuum the floor, do laundry, empty the trash and all sorts of cruel jobs.

I think she would lie awake at night thinking of more things for us to do. She always insisted on us telling the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.

By the time we were teenagers, she could read our minds and had eyes in the back of her head.

Then, life was really tough!

Mom wouldn't let our friends just honk the horn when they drove up. They had to come up to the door so she could meet them.

While everyone else could date when they were 12 or 13, we had to wait until we were 16.

Because of our mother we missed out on lots of things other kids experienced.

None of us have ever been caught shoplifting, vandalizing other's property or ever arrested for any crime. It was all her fault.

Now that we have left home, we are all educated, honest adults. We are doing our best to be mean parents just like Mom was.

Happy Mother's Day