Friday, November 02, 2007

The Other Mother

My best buddy at work listens to my blabber more than she should, and thankfully, sometimes she finds my life stories amusing.This is one of those.

I have 4 children. They are all taller than I am now, but there was a day...... oh, there was a day.... when I was the jolly green giant of the crew. I loved those years. The chaos, the tantrums, the snot and puke, the cuddles, and the moments of wonder, the laundry, the naps. Oh, the naps. With four girls we had never a dull moment. My girls were kind to me- they gave me so much just by being.

I wrote a collection of stories about those times, called Little Bits. It is a work that they can hold onto, and one they enjoy comparing notes with. But that story of how Little Bits came to be is for another day.

The sad sad tale of The Other Mother......................
My #4 child, baby princess of the bunch, cute cute cute. Picture if you will-tiny fair skinned sweetness with titian hair- long and light...... Blue eyes that melted the mortar from the 100 year old bricks that held the house up. Precious. And, let us not forget, the #4 BABY of the family.

She is in her room crying. Sobbing as only a 3 year old can. Her volume and tone has finally reached the deaf ears of her older sisters, and one of them has come to fetch me. I immediately drop what I'm doing and race downstairs to see what has upset my baby baby baby.
"Waaaaa sob sob sob sniff sniff waaa" she cries.
"Sweetheart? Whatever are you crying about? Why are you crying?" the attentive and loving mother of four asked.
" I'm cryyyyying for my other mother." the soggy child wept. I was taken aback. Maybe I didn't hear her clearly.

" Your OTHER mother? "
"Waaaaaaaaaaaaahhhh waaaaahhhhhhhh" she replied.
What in the world ? I wondered with a heavy heart. I stepped closer to the crying angelpie, risking life and limb by side stepping a half-built waffleblock castle, and the open Barbie travel house. These dangers mean nothing when it comes to embracing and rescuing one's broken hearted precious child.

"Other mother? WHAT other mother?" I lovingly asked in my most gentle voice of motherly love.

"The one that takes us to Disney World." Reality slapped me back a good 50 feet....

oh. OHHHH, THAT other mother,I thought. Yeah, I've been waiting for mine as long as I've been waiting for the maid service and Butler to arrive.

I dropped my box of kleenex, and fell into the hallway sobbing like no Mother has ever sobbed before. I sobbed so hard, Oscar statues all over the world melted from the mere essence of my salty tears in the atmosphere. I rubbed my eyes til there were no lashes left unscathed. I cried cried cried until my precious baby stopped.

"Wut are YOU cryin' for mommy?"

" I am crying for my OTHER Mary "

She wiped her tears on her shirt ( or was it a sock?) and stared at me, confused at the revelation that she had another sister in her world who happened to have her very same name.

"What other Mary?"

"I'm crying for the other Mary who picks up her toys and wipes herself."

The tear faucet squeeked off without so much as a final drip.

Yes, we formed a special understanding on that day. Oh, the priceless moments of parenting.....

1 comment:

Belle said...

HA!!! Excellent. I do love the fake Mommy cry ploy, too. Works every time.