Tuesday, September 1, 2009

Wet Oatmeal Kisses


When I was cleaning I found a copy of this poem, my Mom had given me it a while ago and I thought I would share it. I hope you enjoy it, even if it isn't the first time you have read it.

Wet Oatmeal Kisses
by Erma Bombeck

The baby is teething; the boys are fighting. My husband just called and said to eat without him, and I fell off my diet. Lay it on me again, will you.''

OK. One of these days you'll explode and shout to the kids, "Why don't you grow up and act your age?"
...and they will.

OR:

"You guys get outside and find yourselves something to do. And don't slam the door!"
...and they don't.

You'll straighten up the boys' bedroom neat and tidy -- bumper stickers discarded, bedspread tucked and smooth, toys displayed on the shelves. Hangers in the closet. Animals caged. And you'll say out loud, "Now I want it to stay this way.''
...and it will.

You'll prepare a perfect dinner with a salad that hasn't been picked to death and a cake with no finger traces in the icing, 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 demolition crews. Silence! Do your hear?''
...and you'll have it.

No more plastic tablecloths stained with spaghtetti.
No more bedspreads to protect the sofa from damp bottoms.
No more gates to stumble over at the top of the basement steps.
No more clothespins under the sofa.
No more playpens to arrange a room around.
No more anxious nights under a vaporizer tent
No more sand on the sheets or Popeye movies in the bathrooms.
No more iron-on-patches, wet, knotted shoestrings, tight boots, or rubber bands for ponytails.
Imagine. A lipstick with a point on it.
No baby sitter for New Year's Eve.
Washing only once a week.
Seeing a steak that isn't ground.
Having your teeth cleaned without a baby on your lap.
No PTA meetings.
No car pools.
No blaring radios.
No one washing her hair at 11 o'clock at night.
Having your own roll of Scotch tape.
Think about it. No more Christmas presents out of toothpicks and library paste.
No more sloppy oatmeal kisses.
No more tooth fairy.
No giggles in the dark.
No knees to heal, no responsibility.

Only a voice crying, "Why don't you grow up?'' and the silence echoing,
"I did."

10 comments:

Equidae said...

i found quite depressing really.....hope you have a good day!

Amy said...

That is sweet. Thanks for sharing. Have a great day.

Stacy (the Random Cool Chick) said...

Awwwww! I hadn't read that before, thanks for sharing...and for the goosebumps. Kinda sobering, isn't it? :)

shraddha/april@theselfloveproject said...

very very sweet...

hugs and love
shraddha

The Blonde Duck said...

How poignant!

{ L } said...

Tears on this Tuesday Morning. :( Good poem! I need to remember this. Thank you for sharing. By the way, I've been a follower for awhile but I'm not sure if I ever "introduced" myself, lol. :) I love your jewelry and its on my wishlist!

Firefly@www.firefly-shop.org said...

Beautiful :) love the picture above :)

blueviolet said...

That makes me want to cry.

jenjen said...

That is cute. I love Erma Bombeck! Sorry I haven't got that questionnaire done yet. I will work on it soon. Thanks for asking me!

XOXOX
Jen

City girl turned Country Girl said...

That is definitely the utter truth...Those thoughts are constantly in my head!! Thanks for sharing!! Maybe it will remind us all to slow down and love them more!!