Posts Tagged ‘mom’

A Friday Evening Mom, on Childhood

May 20, 2016

Some people wish
To return to childhood
So they may remember
Carefree play
Unfettered by worry.

Others recall
The gentle protection
Of a grown-up, secured
By space on a lap
Or a pinky to hold
Across the street.

Still others long
For the innocence
The trust
The earnest honesty
That only children
Can achieve.

All very well and good.

But what I seek
Is for someone, right now
To just send me to bed
Without my supper.



A Month of Reflection – Day 15: Learn

September 11, 2014

Yes, I have skipped a few blog posts.

Back on the wagon now.

So…what did I learn yesterday?

Yesterday. I was in the kitchen preparing dinner. My 11 year-old came home from playing with a couple of friends of his. He started complaining about a couple of kids who showed up while they were hanging out. Kids he doesn’t really like, kids who bug him. He mentioned that one kid started telling racist jokes. And that some of the jokes were about Jews.

And then he told me the jokes. Both of which were of the concentration-camp variety.

I did my best to contain my anger, but I know some of it probably leaked out. Maybe that was actually a good thing. My kids need to see that racism and anti-Semitism are real, and terrible.

I almost called that mom right away, but I’m glad I’ve held off. For starters, it turns out my boy had joined in on some of the jokes to a lesser degree. I also don’t know that mom. At all. I wasn’t quite sure how to approach the whole thing.

I’ve been going over what happened yesterday in my mind like a stone I hold in my palm. I keep turning it over, looking at it from different sides. Watching as one point of view gets polished, and then another.

Was that kid a racist, or an Jew hater? Could be. Could also be he’s heard that joke from some other kid. Or from some dumb online source. Could be – praying not – that he heard it at home. I keep turning the possibilities over in my palm and can’t really come up with an answer to that one. I have a feeling I won’t get one, and I think I’m okay with that.

Do I need to call the kid’s mom? Still polishing up this one. I am not always going to be there to run in when someone hurts my child. My boy has learned what he needs to learn from this lesson. I lean towards it, then away. Towards it, then away. Most likely, I will call when I have found the words. Words which say we had some tough conversations in our house. That I would want to know if it were my kid.

And then?

I need to let it go, and pray that there will be some tough conversations in their house, too.

As for me and my boy?

  • We learned that it really IS hurtful when people tell jokes about you or your culture.
  • We learned that even if you live in a place where there are lots of Jews, there’s no guarantee you’re free from hatred of Jews.
  • We learned that a good response to rude or racist jokes is, “Dude. That’s not funny.”
  • We learned that if people are telling jokes about you, and you laugh, or tell one of your own, you’re telling people those jokes are both funny and okay to tell.

Chalk it up to a lesson learned the hard way.

Mom as Hired Help

September 23, 2010

This evening, Thing #1 came out of his room. He couldn’t find the third chapter in the book and wanted me to turn to it for him.

I escorted him to his room, where he proceeded to complain about his itching back. Would I please oblige and scratch it for him? I began to scratch; he wallowed in itchiness. Somewhere in the midst of whining and fussing, the light dawned. Um…aren’t these things he could *kinda maybe* do for himself? How totally duped / trained am I to totally run back there and do that all for him?

I took his hand, pulled it across his chest, positioned his fingernails right over the offending spot, and said, “Hey, look at that. You can reach it too! That’s cool.” Quick kiss on the forehead goodnight, followed by a “Mom, can you pleeeeeeease get me an ice pack to put on here?” met by a tender yet firm “I love you.” (preceded by a long, internal sigh) and punctuated by the flipped switch. Heartless. I know.

I know what some of you are thinking. “Right on, sister! Tell ‘im!” I know who you are. You have kids like mine, the younger ones who will suck every last little bit of energy, patience and sheer brain power from your every living pore. Kids who will excite, challenge, entertain and frustrate you in the span of 30 seconds. Kids who drive mamas to go on strike or move to Australia.

‘Course, there may be some of you thinking, “You say that now. But pretty soon they won’t want you in there. Before you know it, you’ll be missing those nighttime exchanges. Kids grow up way too fast.”

Every problem can be a bad problem to have.

Every problem (tho’ sometimes you have to dig deeper than other times) can be a good problem to have.


April 6, 2010

Yep. national poetry writing month. I’m up for it. The challenge is to write a poem every day for the month of April. Anyone else? I just started yesterday (will have to post that one a different day) but here’s my stab for today:

Saturday Afternoon

You wouldn’t think young eyes were capable

of such subtlety

in noticing the pacasandra

in determining there was beauty

and a powerful scent to the scattered blossoms.

You wouldn’t think grubby hands were capable

of such grace

in gentle plucking below the blossom,

the tedious gathering by the thousands

into the blown glass bowl.

You wouldn’t think unruly boys were capable

of such chivalry

in devising the scheme

to keep me half a block away

until the gift could be properly bestowed

but they can, my friends.

and they can

and they can.

All right, people. Who’s with me? Post your poem in the comment section (or a link to more of your writing) for the world to read.

A Day’s Worth of Blessings

July 30, 2009

A boy wrapped up on the couch in his snuggle blanket.

A strong run.

The first home-grown tomato of the season.

A morning spent without having to worry about the TV.

Contractors who show up and do good work.

News of a cancer-free friend.

A morning walk.

A delicious lunch with a dear friend.

Cooking together with children in the kitchen.

Perfect weather for a bike ride.

A home that smells of bread and blueberry cobbler.

That same blueberry cobbler, dished up with vanilla ice cream.

A piano recital by a self-taught eight-year-old.

A six-year-old who wishes to snuggle.

A quiet house.

And you? What are the blessings you found today? Share them here. Pass the joy.