For Mothers of Sons

You are chosen. There is a special place reserved for you in Heaven, if you are to come back in the afterlife, it’s as a Princess, in a castle, surrounded by chocolate and a ridiculous metabolism that means you never put on weight.

Your name is not ‘Hungry’. Believe me, they might tell you it is, but it isn’t.

One day, you will appear in public again and you will look sane. You might even have handsome grown up sons with you and in my mind’s eye, you’ll shirk and say, ‘aw, it was nothing, they were good boys.’

On another such fine day, you’ll stop standing on lego on arising from the bed, you’ll not trip over car toys at every step.

Nobody, darling, knows what you go through with laundry. No, it’s not possible unless they own a launderette across the road from a construction site, nobody could understand the amount of clothes you have to wash, daily, weekly, monthly, yearly. Nobody.

There is a world out there yet for you to travel where the people don’t speak fluently the language of poos, farts (excuse me) and wees. Normal people don’t find bodily excretion as funny. Imagine.

Only you have the knowledge that comes from the sidelines where, one, two, three boys and sometimes their father roll around on the floor wrestling, giggling, hurting each other, you know to shrug and walk away. You know, though others don’t, that this is perfectly normal. It gives you a chance to fold some more washing.

Only you know what it’s like when your four year old tell you that when he’s big, he’ll marry you because you’re his heart. You’re the one the seven year old runs to with tales of the schoolyard and classroom after school. Your face is the one your baby searches for when he cries from his cot. You know what it’s like to be in a cuddle sandwich when one of them shouts ‘group hug’ and although it might hurt, you revel in the glory of it all.

And finally, they always try to make you laugh or surprise you or impress you. You are a bit of a Queen Bee in a hive full of busy bees. So flick on the coffee maker and try and smile when they serve you cornflakes, cheerios, jam and milk as a treat for mother’s day; you are chosen after all. Believe it.

Happy Mother’s Day to you.

3 thoughts on “For Mothers of Sons

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s