- Public Notices
Being a Mom
I knocked on the bathroom door, wondering what in the world was taking so long. We had to get going and Andy, age 7, was taking forever with his bath in our new jet tub.
Five minutes later, with anxiety high and a little concern, I pounded on the door again and then opened it. The large tub was filled with bubbles. Bubbles like I'd never seen before. Bubbles piled so high they nearly touched the ceiling! And in the middle of the bubbles was Andy, looking a bit alarmed. Apparently bubbles aren't so fun when they're out of control.
Feeling as if I were somehow transported into an "I Love Lucy" episode, I was't sure if I should laugh or scream. What I did do was quickly get to work on bubble management before we were all late for Cody's baseball game.
Trying to help, Andy offered this solution: "We could just put it all into garbage bags."
I remember pausing, picturing the blue bags we once spent a small fortune on, stuffed full of bubbles, and the reaction of the garbage man when he picked up the bags filled with –– nothing.
In fifth grade, Cody went on the ELC school trip up north to spend the week learning about, and experiencing, the wilderness. He came home tired with stories to tell and souvenirs to give. However, he couldn't find the one special gift he had purchased for his brother. He had spent hard earned money for this one thing he knew Andy would love, but it was nowhere to be found.
A couple days later as I was pulling laundry out of the dryer, I can't explain the shock I felt as I saw something brown and greasy smeared all over the inside of the dryer, and on the clothing! Hesitating a bit, I eventually determined it wasn't gum, chapstick or crayon, the usual offenders. When I questioned the kids on what in the world was in their pockets that had just trashed an entire load of laundry, the answer could not have been more a picture of my life as a mom. Cody had an "aha" moment, realizing his long lost gift had been found. He admitted that the mess in the laundry was none other than his missing moose poop. He went on to explain that it wasn't real moose poop (relief), but just a gag gift. I was gagging alright.
So from one mom to another: Whether it's bubbles or moose poop, just know we've all been there. Who else would ever believe what we've been through? Happy Mother's Day!