Mother’s Day

I didn’t display a ton of foresight when I took a Tylenol PM on Mother’s Day Eve.  




I didn’t display any foresight when I took a Tylenol PM on Mother’s Day Eve.








Light grey.






“Mom just went to the store to get breakfast.”




“It’s Mothers Day.”


Eyes open.


“S–t.”  “Did I just say that out loud?”


“Uh, yes Dad.”


“S–t.  Sorry, close your ears.”


I race into the kitchen, hair akimbo.  Polly is already back.


“Why good morning, did you sleep well?”  This is not going to be good.


“Well, I just couldn’t fall asleep…” I look up and my explanation dies as I quickly discern a complete lack of interest. 50 Shades of Grey, where are you when I need you?


I pour Polly a cup of coffee and scoot her out of the kitchen and turn to the boys.

If there was the Bad News Bears of kitchen help I think I would be looking at them.


“Ben, you cut up the fruit; Cooper, you set the table; Griffin, please clean up the TV room; Christian, please get your toys off the table.”


Nobody moves.


“What?” I growl.


“Who wants fruit?”


“We don’t have any forks.”


“Dad, I cleaned up yesterday.”


“Me too,” chirps Christian.


Godzilla is about to visit.  “GO!!!” I roar.  They disappear.  Except Ben.


“Which fruit should I cut?”  He is looking squarely at the box of strawberries.

I am trying so hard.  “Start with the strawberries.”

“Where’s a knife?”  grrrr.

“Where’s the cutting board?”  GRRRRR.

“Do I cut them in half or in quarters?”

“Ben, you are about to cut them with your nose.  I have faith in you.”

“Do you peel strawberries?”

“Only if you want it brought up at your wedding rehearsal dinner.”

“What do I put them on?”

“Get a platter.  No, strike that, get a bowl.”


3 minutes go by.  I look over.  Ben is painstakingly organizing the strawberries in a circle on a huge platter.  It looks like a crop circle in Idaho.


“What happened to the bowl?”

“What bowl?”

“The… AHHHHH!  Forget it, I will get the bowl.  You get the juice.”

“What kind of juice?”

Serenity now.


I go out to check on the other three.  They are watching TV.  Godzilla arrives.


So now we are sitting at the table and I say, “Let’s tell Mom all the great things that are so special about her.”


Cooper chirps up.  “Oh!  Mom, I love it when you scratch my back.  <pause>.  It’s like a rhinoceros horn.”

Polly’s head swings slowly to me with a smirk that only a husband can recognize.  It is the “Mother’s Day for a mother of 4 boys is the most sacrosanct holiday that there possibly is and while I love the five of you dearly, having you sleep through breakfast and my son call me a rhinoceros as he celebrates my motherhood is going to cost you in many ways.  Let me begin describing the ways.  You will cook them breakfast all week; you will get them to bed; you will do the laundry; you will figure out summer camp; you will call that weird lady about Cooper’s saxophone; you will clean out the basement; you will get the printer ink; AND you will give me a back massage for each of the next 7 nights.”

I pick all of this up before Polly has blinked.

It is 9:12am.

2 Comments Add yours

  1. Jennifer Eaton says:

    Can you hear the howl of laughter from downtown Concord?

  2. Chad Barker says:

    This is fantastic. Still laughing about the Bad News Bears of kitchen help.

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