HIDDEN TREASURE

I never dreamed when I resumed my task of cleaning and de-cluttering closets today that I would unearth the most amazing treasure! There it was, hidden in a big black box beneath a mountain of hanging garments that have not seen the light of day since shoulder pads were mandatory.  The construction paper was cracking at the edges, the handwriting was little more than a scrawl, but this container was filled with the reminders and rewards of my greatest life's work.  

I found hilarious reminders that even when they were misbehaving my children could be creative. For example there was that day that Big brother and Little sister were squabbling so much that Daddy intervened.  He required them to write a report on why they had such a bad attitude.  This was the worst possible punishment for children who were supposed to be having a day off of school!  Behold Big Brother's report, and note his total innocence in the whole affair.

I can only assume from this paper, that Big brother was required to write 2 pages.  Let us see how Little Sister responded to the task.

Well, it appears it was my fault after all.  I served the SAME breakfast as always.  The truth is, along with the fussing there was always laughing and playing and plotting and performing all woven together to form the fabric of our family.  I miss those mornings, so the box in the closet reminded me of forgotten joys.  I would not want you to be deceived into thinking that I was a perfect mother (just read a couple of past posts and that will cure you) or that our household ran like clockwork.  If I wanted to pretend that it was so, the little poem I wrote after dropping the kids off at school should be proof enough that I had my own "issues".

Short Order Mom

by Juanita Hayden 

Lord, how I long to be a creature of order!

The diligent mother, the thoughtful daughter.

The children's homework, complete in clean rooms .

All sleeping soundly; hair washed and groomed.

The household awakes cheerfully at six.

Grateful for breakfast that's already fixed.

Their clothes neatly pressed and laid out last night.

Their shoes never lost, sit plainly in sight.

They skip to the car, all polished and gleaming.

Anxious for school, their little hearts singing.

The first to arrive, they respectfully play.

Pondering how they might help out that day.

I flit around making beds, doing laundry.

Touching up lipstick, scrubbing floors without floundering.

I plan the week's menu; delicious, low fat!

And all on a budget that won't feed a gnat.

Now, what is that ringing? The alarm rudely sounding!

It must be an error, off it goes with fist pounding.

The button is lost 'neath a mountain of rubble.

So I trip from the bed on a shoe with no double.

"Good Morning!" I call to my children, who groan.

I pry them from bed to a chorus of moans.

No breakfast today, unless it's dry cheerios.

"Why aren't you dressed? You can't wear those clothes!"

With no clean socks, the last underwear,

Homework is lost, snarls in their hair.

"You must get to school, and hurry," I scream!

How I wish I could get back to bed and my dream.!"