I was trying to get our house nice and clean today. We have company coming for dinner tonight so I was hoping it would actually stay clean once I cleaned it. So, I cleaned Hailey’s playroom and told her she could play with her toys- but to please only take out a few toys at a time. Then I went off to finish dusting the rest of the house.

Less than 5 minutes later I walked by the playroom and saw this:

At first I was a little annoyed to see the big mess.  But then I remembered this:

No More Oatmeal Kisses

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 dandelion bouquets. 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 bathroom. No more iron-on patches, rubber bands for ponytails, tight boots or wet knotted shoestrings.

Imagine. A lipstick with a point on it. No baby-sitter for New Year’s Eve. Washing clothes only once a week. Seeing a steak that isn’t ground. Having your teeth cleaned without a baby on your lap.

No PTA meetings or silly school plays where your child is a tree. No car pools. No blaring radios or forgotten lunch money. 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.”

…Erma Bombeck

So instead of being upset with Hailey for the mess she made, I went and got my camera and took a picture.  Becuase all too soon she’ll be all grown up and I’ll miss the mess.

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 dandelion bouquets. 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 bathroom. No more iron-on patches, rubber bands for ponytails, tight boots or wet knotted shoestrings.

Imagine. A lipstick with a point on it. No baby-sitter for New Year’s Eve. Washing clothes only once a week. Seeing a steak that isn’t ground. Having your teeth cleaned without a baby on your lap.

No PTA meetings or silly school plays where your child is a tree. No car pools. No blaring radios or forgotten lunch money. 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.”

…Erma Bombeck

Time goes much too quickly.  Turn off your computer and enjoy your kids this weekend! 

(Come back Monday though for an exciting announcement!)

Remember the other day?  My post called It’s Been One Of Those Days?

A couple of my commenters, who have children who are all grown up, told me about how I’m going to miss these days. 

Later that day I was trying to talk on the phone and Hailey kept trying to grab the phone out of my hand to say “Hey-Yo” (Hello).  And I caught myself thinking, “Why can’t I have a moment to talk on the phone in peace?

At dinner time Hailey didn’t want to eat and made a huge mess with her food.  After I got her cleaned up and I sat down to eat my cold food I caught myself thinking, “Why don’t I ever get to eat a warm dinner anymore?”

And all of a sudden- the comments I had gotten and the thoughts I was having- reminded me of this poem.  And it made me cry.  So, I had to share it with you (so you can cry too).

No More Oatmeal Kisses
–January 29, 1969

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 dandelion bouquets. 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 bathroom. No more iron-on patches, rubber bands for ponytails, tight boots or wet knotted shoestrings.
Imagine. A lipstick with a point on it. No baby-sitter for New Year’s Eve. Washing clothes only once a week. Seeing a steak that isn’t ground. Having your teeth cleaned without a baby on your lap.

No PTA meetings or silly school plays where your child is a tree. No car pools. No blaring radios or forgotten lunch money. 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.”

….Erma Bombeck