Monday, April 30, 2018

Mother's Day compliments from the mouths of boys

My sister and I had a lovely childhood playing Barbies, coloring, riding bikes and shooting hoops. But in no way did it prepare me for becoming the mother of two wild boys.

There’s the noise. The dirt. The smell! My aunt warned me when I was pregnant, “Their rooms will go right from smelling like pee to B.O. Just be ready. There’s nothing you can do about it.”

I’ve been serenaded by armpit-toots and belch-singing. I’ve rescued Lego guys, Matchbox cars and tortellini from the disc drive of our Wii. And now, years later, I still routinely find rocks in their pockets and mulch in their underwear.



So on that note, in honor of Mother’s Day, here are some “compliments” my sons have given me over the years.

“This dinner doesn’t suck.”

That’s code for: thanks for the awesome, healthy, home-cooked meal. We really appreciate it.

"Mom, you are a legend."

Now, I should clarify that was NOT in regards to my culinary abilities or homework assistance or even my awesome hook shot on the basketball court. Oh no. It’s for my aptitude at passing gas. Quite impressive to my children. What can I say?

“I love you better than boogers.”

My son told me this in the middle of breakfast one day when he was 3. To him, that was high praise. After all, sticking his digits in his nostrils was his second-favorite place after shoving his hand down his pants.

“You look nice.”

This is most often said without physically looking at me. I may or may not be wearing pajamas or clothes with actual holes or visible stains. My hair and makeup could be in any state. When pressed to actually put eyes on me, the little boogers will inevitably declare, “Mom, you always look nice.”

Yet, I’ve concluded the best compliments are the ones they don’t realize they’re giving me at all — as much as I love the homemade Mother’s Day cards and “surprise” breakfasts-in-bed.

I’m most honored when my boys grab the grocery bag and hold open the door when we’re out shopping. Or when they hear the garage door opening and pause their video games to run out and help me unload the car. It’s feeding the dog without being asked. And the unplanned half-hugs and belly laughs. 

Or even better yet, it’s when they think to ask me “What’s wrong?” or  “Can I help?” or “How was your day, Mom?”

That. That’s all I want this Mother’s Day.


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