Sunday, March 6, 2011

I know there will come a day when.........

1.  I don't have to raise my voice 37 times in a 12 hour period.  Or, have to repeat the same statement......... "I said no!"..... 8 times, just to get the point across.

2.  I won't have to say things like "put the dead grasshopper down!"  OR "stop trying to feed your sister the dead grasshopper!!"

3.  Blood, sweat & tears will not be a part of my every day existence.

4.  A shower will last longer than 45 seconds...................and will actually occur daily.

5.  I will be able to exit a room, where my 2 children remain, and World War III will not break out.

6.  The only body orifice, or excrement, I will have to wipe, will be my OWN.

7.  Grocery shopping will not involve strapping anyone into a straight jacket, or preventing anyone from hurling themselves out of the shopping cart, all while trying to "coupon".

8.  I will once again use a razor, tweezers, and nail polish...........on a regular basis.

9.  I will cut up my "mom jeans" and elastic waistband pants and use them to light the fire pit ........(OK, maybe NOT the elastic waistbands.  Those are pretty comfortable)

10.  I will not live in fear of random, public humiliation.  At least, not on a daily basis.

11.  I will not  recite "Brown Bear, Brown Bear" and "Goodnight Moon" in my sleep.




And, if you are a mother with older , or grown, children, laughing to yourself because you know most of these things will never be a reality... .............please, just let me live in my delusions of grandeur.  Your cooperation is appreciated.


2 comments:

  1. You poor thing, you still have hope...God bless you.

    Sorry, had to laugh,but as the mother of teens...I just don't think those days are set to come back.

    And, IF they do...I'll be too tired to enjoy them.

    Still, a very cute post.

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  2. I love your article, I look forward to it all the time.
    As a Mom of two fully grown adults *Ahem* I re-live their childhood (and mine) through your column.
    I laugh and the commonalities of the self sacrafice of Mothers and hold back a tear at the precious memories that pass too quickly.

    I love you Megan Gratz.

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