Several years ago on Mother's Day I received a small book of poems, but I don't remember any of them except this one, which I accidentally memorized because I thought of it quite often, and still do:
Mother, keep your eyes from tears
Keep your heart from foolish fears
Keep your lips from dull complaining
Lest the baby think it's raining.
I think it's okay for a mother to cry and express fears and complaints occasionally, but this weekend my son, Tom, who was home from college for one day, said I was overdoing it (comnplaining, I mean) and he was right.
It was Sunday afternoon and I was trying to get everyone in the house to stop napping and playing and go to the car so that we could go for a drive in the mountains. Have you ever tried to move five people from a state of complete inertia...it's always a chore!
Within a mile or two of the house I was fine again, even semi-relaxed. We went on to enjoy our drive over the Alpine Loop, where we saw a moose and a lot of golden trees sprinkled with red and orange trees and evergreens.
So back to the little poem: my babies aren't babies anymore, but I still believe in projecting sincere happiness, confidence and satisfaction whenever I can. Sincerity is the key -- nothing fake or forced. But a mom has to model for her children what makes it all worthwhile.
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