Monday, August 27, 2018

Wet Oatmeal Kisses

It was like magic, having a baby growing inside of me.  I could feel fists and feet kicking and poking... eager to get out and begin a life in this big bad world.  You were my first.  From you, I learned much.

I was only twenty-three back then, working in a sewing factory and relishing not only how my co-workers said I glowed during my pregnancy with you... but also the baby shower that they surprised me with weeks before your birth.  On the way home that day, I stopped at Dairy Queen for a Hot Fudge Brownie Delite.  I was eating for two ya know! 

So my weight went from 98 lb  to 155 lb in nine months.  Then came you.

Happy couldn't describe my state of mind.  I couldn't believe my miracle.  I'd watch your crib at night and pray to God that He'd shelter and protect you always.

You grew.  Learned about life.  Had fun.  Made mistakes.  Cried.  Learned more about life... then became the wonderful person you are today.

I cherish you're beautiful and loving heart.

And as I go through your baby book I remember...

A time of firsts...

 a time of innocence...

and I become saddened by my little boy gone. 

Wet Oatmeal Kisses
by Erma Bombeck

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

Or, "You guys get outside and find something to do -- without hurting each other And don't slam the door!" And they don't.

You'll straighten their bedrooms until it's all neat and tidy, toys displayed on the shelf, hangers in the closet, animals caged. You'll yell, "Now I want it to stay this way!" And it will...

You will prepare a perfect dinner with a salad that hasn't had all the olives picked out and a cake with no finger traces in the icing and you'll say, "Now this is a meal for company." And you will eat it alone...

You'll yell, "I want complete privacy on the phone. No screaming, Do you hear me?" And no one will answer.

No more plastic tablecloths stained. No more dandelion bouquets. No more iron-on patches. No more wet, knotted shoelaces, muddy boots or rubber bands for ponytails.

Imagine.... a lipstick with a point, no babysitters for New Years Eve, washing clothes only once a week, no PTA meetings or silly school plays where your child is a tree, no car pools, blaring stereos or forgotten lunch money.

No more Christmas presents made of library paste and toothpicks, no wet oatmeal kisses, no more tooth fairy, no more giggles in the dark, scraped knees to kiss or sticky fingers to clean.

Only a voice asking, "Why don't you grow up?" And the silence echoes: "I did".

Happy 40th Birthday Jack!  You will always be my #1.