Skip to main content

A Letter to the MAs

Sometimes Momma is forgetful,
Sometimes she just doesn't get that my needs, in my opinion, are monumental.
Has that ever happened to you?
Has she ever dressed you in something pink when you just wanted it to be blue?
Or how about glamming me up with hair pieces and lace?
Doesn't she see the disgust on my face?
Sometimes I like to sit in my own pee,
Once I wiggle away I think —"you'll never catch me!"

There's another thing that I can't stand,
It's when she tries to wipe my nose with that tissue in her hand.
"Ouch," I think and "No," I say,
But that tissue just will not be put away.
I get it, you love me and want for me what is best,
But, boy it feels good to get this all off my chest!

Momma and Grandma are quite a pair,
They hustle, they feed me and insist that I share.
Still if you ask me, they are both rather silly,
I don't understand why two women would dote on a baby and dress me so frilly.
You would think I was some stuffed animal or porcelain baby,
A koala bear, kitty cat, or even a puppy maybe. 
But there is one thing I can be thankful for,
And please, ladies, try not to toot your own horns.

For MeMa, Grandma and Momma have taught me many great things,
Among them, to approach the world with an open mind to what life brings.
To enter a room with a smile on my face,
To say "please" and "thank you" with natural ease and maybe someday, grace.
All in all I find them all quite crazy,
But the truth is, they have taught me that love is anything but lazy.

MeMa sang to me and always made my laugh,
Even from heaven she is still my other half.
For this I feel quite lucky you know,
Not many babies have a personal guardian and angel in tow.
If MeMa is our heavenly angel then Grandma is the one on earth,
What a duo they have been for me since my birth.
And so for everything you all are to me and every time you may have felt like you live in a zoo,
I now take out my binky and utter my heartfelt,  "Thank you."

Rant over. See ya later, folks. 


Popular posts from this blog

Spiked Lemonade

It has been a marvelous beginning of summer. The birds serenade us every morning with their beautiful song. It makes me want to open up our French doors and sing with them until my entire house wakes up to join in our sweet melodies. My pale pink, baby doll nightgown would blow in the breeze and my husband would cook up an amazingly decadent breakfast that he would somehow manage to make fat and calorie- free. There would be a carriage waiting downstairs to take us to the beach where we would spend time with our mermaid and unicorn friends in seventy-degree perfect, weather.
We would get great tans without the threat of strange sun spots that beckon WebMD’s dooming diagnosis. Our kids would behave like two little cherubs and not whine, hit each other, or need to poop or pee the entire day. I would have no desire to go to a separate part of the beach to have alone time, because being with my well-behaved, self-sufficient and loving family would be all I could ever want in the world. I …

Pink Balloon

I bought you a balloon today.
I blew it up, tied a string, but it flew away.

It sailed over parks and jumped over bridges.
All the while dodging a few unsuspecting pigeons.

It swayed and whirled through winds so great.
It was no wonder it did not have a cape.

The faster I ran the further away it got.
For over mountains, valleys and oceans it appeared to hop.

It danced under the sun, while its pink surface glistened.
I swear I could hear your laughter if I closed my eyes real tight and listened.

Before I could grab it, before I knew,
The balloon had made it's way up, up, up, and was headed straight to you.

No more hesitation, no more delays.
This balloon was serving it's purpose,
And was happily on its way.

Happy birthday to You,
Happy birthday sweet Mother,
My best friend, my confident, there will never be another.

When that balloon gets to you make sure to send it back.
From earth heaven isn't too far off track.

Send it back for birthdays, holidays and special occasions w…

Stop N' Stare

Hey, Crimson,
Yes, I am talking to you in your fabulous crimson-colored pea coat with the matching leather gloves. You look positively regal climbing into your G-Class Mercedes Benz with your pursed lips and perfectly styled bob.  Everything about you is exquisite except for that side eye. Oh, how it made me cringe. It was an unmistakable scowl in my direction and it was as blatant as it was unnecessary. There isn’t an ounce of you that doesn’t scream constipated with a Prada bag full of laxatives.    
It was 7PM and nearly 40 degrees out and my ten-month-old’s feet were sock-free, but you should know that my daughter has an insatiable hunger for anything that sooths her aching gums. Like stuffed animals, fingers and her pink heart socks. So by the time we drove from school to the grocery store, her socks were saturated with enough saliva to morph them into two spitballs. Anyone who has had an overprotective Mother or even better, Grandmother, knows that wet socks equal the plague. An…