The baby is teething, the children are fighting, and you just have to get dinner ready. Okay. One of these days you'll shout, "Why don't you grow up amd act your age?" ... and they will
Or ... "You guys get outside and find yourself something to do and don't slam the door." ... and they won't
You'll straighten up their bedrooms all neat and tidy with thrash discarded, bed-spread tucked and smoothed, toys all displayed on the shelves, books in place, hangers in the closets, animals caged, and you'll say out loud, "Now I want you to stay this way!" ... they will
Then you'll prepare a perfect dinner with a proper wholesome side dish, salad that hasn't been picked to death, a cake with no finger traces through the frosting, and you'll say, "Now there's a meal for company." ... you'll eat it alone
And you'll say, ... "I want complete privacy on the phone! No dancing around, no pantomimes, no demolition crews! Silence! Do you hear me?" ... you'll have it
No more plastic tablecloths stained with curry, no more anxious nights tending to viral fevers, no more dandelion bouquets, no more iron-on patches, no more wet-knotted shoe strings, no more tight boots, or rubber bands on pony tails.
Now, imagine your lipstick with a point. No baby sitter on nights out. Washing clothes only once a week. No PTA meetings, no car pools, no blaring music and parties, having your own space, no more Christmas presents made out of bits of scrap and paste, no more wet kisses, no tooth fairy, no giggles in the dark, no knees to bandage.
Only a memory of a voice crying ... "Why don't you grow up?"
Or ... "You guys get outside and find yourself something to do and don't slam the door." ... and they won't
You'll straighten up their bedrooms all neat and tidy with thrash discarded, bed-spread tucked and smoothed, toys all displayed on the shelves, books in place, hangers in the closets, animals caged, and you'll say out loud, "Now I want you to stay this way!" ... they will
Then you'll prepare a perfect dinner with a proper wholesome side dish, salad that hasn't been picked to death, a cake with no finger traces through the frosting, and you'll say, "Now there's a meal for company." ... you'll eat it alone
And you'll say, ... "I want complete privacy on the phone! No dancing around, no pantomimes, no demolition crews! Silence! Do you hear me?" ... you'll have it
No more plastic tablecloths stained with curry, no more anxious nights tending to viral fevers, no more dandelion bouquets, no more iron-on patches, no more wet-knotted shoe strings, no more tight boots, or rubber bands on pony tails.
Now, imagine your lipstick with a point. No baby sitter on nights out. Washing clothes only once a week. No PTA meetings, no car pools, no blaring music and parties, having your own space, no more Christmas presents made out of bits of scrap and paste, no more wet kisses, no tooth fairy, no giggles in the dark, no knees to bandage.
Only a memory of a voice crying ... "Why don't you grow up?"
... and in the silence will come the echo ... "I did"
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