Someday

(post 6 of 10 in '10)

In 2010, I tried really hard to remember this from an Erma Bombeck column:


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 shout, "Why don't you kids 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 won'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 you hear?" And you'll have it.


No more plastic tablecloths stained with spaghetti.
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.


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."

Some days it was easier than others to remember that time flies and my kitchen floors won't be sticky and littered with crumbs forever, and someday I'll sleep through the night again and someday the ever-growing laundry piles will no longer be my nemesis. Someday I won't cook dinner with a baby on my hip, a toddler on the counter and what feels like general mayhem swirling around me.

BUT someday, I won't have a nursing baby girl to give me an excuse to leave the laundry piling and the floors crusty, and someday (very soon) my baby boy wont run his fingers through my hair anymore and tell me how much he lubs me. Someday, it will take more than a silly face or an improptu game of chase to bring on belly laughs. Someday I won't be needed like I am right now. Someday I'll be one of those grandma's who looks at babies longingly in the grocery store and stops to tell young moms to enjoy it, really enjoy it, because it's over too fast.

 Someday, I won't have to worry about keeping my floss hidden,

and when I turn my back, this won't happen.

 
 No one will roll out mashmallows on my kitchen floor,

or dump brown sugar out in my baking drawer.

No one will surprise me at bathtime with footballs drawn on their tummies.

 Someday he'll figure out that undies are more comfy worn the right way....even if that means you can't see the picture on them.

 He'll pour his own cereal without overflowing the bowl.

 Someday he'll shave for real,

 and he won't need the assistance of heavy equipment to eat his oatmeal.

Someday he'll draw pictures

 and he'll keep the drawing on the paper instead of the grout lines

 Someday he won't wear mascara (I hope), or smear it on the couch.

 Someday my backyard won't be a dirtpile fort with treasures like ladders, sledge hammers and toilet plungers

.......and no one will be small enough to lay on the counter and watch t.v.

....or sit on the counter to eat their breakfast.

Someday I'll walk into the kitchen, and I won't find these kind of messes,

or bust anyone eating scoops of butter.

Life right now is busy and messy and hectic and some days are downright HARD, but it's also good in so many ways.