Inspiration for my blog title

Wet Oatmeal Kisses......

A young mother writes: "I know you've written before about the empty-nest syndrome -- that lonely period after the children are grown and gone. Right now, I'm up to my eyeballs in laundry and muddy boots. 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.

No more dandelion bouquets.

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."

by Erma Bombeck

I found this poem at the bookstore one day and I loved it because it told the story of my life. Before I even got home, the kids had folded it in half so the mat was broken and they had taken the plastic off of it and stepped on it. After a few minutes of feeling bad for having wasted my money, I decided to put it in a frame and hang it up anyways, hoping that maybe the fold line and foot print were not that noticeable. Within a couple of hours one of the kids bumped it off the wall and broke the glass. I cleaned up the mess and hung it back up on the wall with no glass, the fold line, and the foot print. It is a daily reminder of the things that really matter.