Hope springs maternal

This is a story of hope.

If you are wondering why, if it’s called a Diaper Genie, it’s not actually diapering the tiny multi-appendaged tot on the table; if you are now able to identify a multitude of baby urps on the shoulders of your blouses by color; if you are hoping not to go to the crayon factory with Mr. Rogers again; if you lock yourself in the bathroom to finish your only cup of coffee, would the solitude be worth finding the contents of the toy box thrown into the unlit, but full of ashes, fireplace……..this, my dear, is for you.

Eventually, they grow up. Okay, maybe just age. But they do become taller, older, useful. And, when you need them, you can guilt them into helping you.

By some DNA fluke, my second child, oldest daughter, has a gene for organizing. It is a frighteningly wonderful gift. I watch her in action–a goddess sent from OCD heaven. She has marshalled my clothes , the few that actually fit me since I’ve started my National Board frenzy (which goes something like this…can’t think of what to write? Ben & Jerry’s. Don’t know where that one paper is I need to finish this entry? Godiva.) into precision order in my closet. My kitchen pantry is almost in alphabetical order. And she is, all 5’2″ of her, an intimidating little soul. I swear the rice darts in line behind the pasta when she struts by.

With March 31 drawing closer, I whined her into spending time here. One glance at my dining room table, littered with papers, a laptop, papers, folders, papers, okay-okay-candy wrappers–coffee mugs–papers—I feared she would spin on her heels and dart out faster than Britney sprinting out of rehab. But I could see that driven gleam in her eyes, that “train wreck” –you know you’re not supposed to slow down, but you just can’t help yourself fascination.

Just in case she starts hedging, I’ve shored my position with a host of “Remember when…” stories. I’m even letting her sleep late; she’s young; she can actually watch midnight happen.

So, if you’re a mom counting how many times Legos can be flushed down the toilet  before having to call a plumber, don’t despair.  You’re not just making memories, you’re building bridges to the shores of Payback Land.


2 thoughts on “Hope springs maternal

  1. OH I love this, part of me wants to sit and bawl after reading it, and the other part laughed while reading it. Thank you so much (PS I love shamless plugs!!!).

    THANK YOU THANK YOU. I was talking to the secretary at the Ortho today (you know because I seem to only have conversations with people in my war path) Anyways, I told “I know I am going to miss these times, I don’t want them to grow up too fast, I really do enjoy them now; but this driving is rattling my nerves and making me turn up my praise music in the car so I can keep some sort of sanity.” I could write more but you get the idea.

    Thank you so much for the encouragement.

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