What Mothers Say

What Mothers Say

Go.

Go on, walk to Daddy.

Please go to sleep, angel.

Go get me another diaper.

Go play on the slide.

Do you need to go potty? 

Go knock on the door and say “Trick or Treat!” 

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Go put away your toys.

Go watch Barney.

Please go play!  Mommy’s tired!

Go on in the classroom.

Go say hi to her.

Go sit on Santa’s lap.

Don’t go out too far.

Go do your homework.

Go ask dad.

Are you going on a field trip?  Sure, I’ll drive.

Go get your soccer bag.  No, I don’t know where it is.

Take it with you when you go. 

Why should I go to school to bring it to you?  I reminded you ten times.

Go get one out of Lost & Found.  I’m not buying another.

You need to go up a size. 

Go do your chores.

tricitypsychology.com      istockphoto.com/EricHood

Do you want to go to the movies?  No, I don’t have to stay.

When are you going to team camp?  No, I know you don’t want me to drive.

No, you can’t go with Hannah on Spring Break.

Go take off your outfit.  You’re not wearing that.

And that skirt doesn’t go in the floor.

Will you go to the grocery for me?  Take my car.

You’re not going to the party!

All those clothes on the floor don’t go in the dirty clothes hamper.

Go get your money.  You can pay for it.

Buying Chanel requires that you go get a job.

Who are you going with to the prom?

Let’s go shopping for a dress.

You’re not going anywhere until you pick up these clothes.

Are you going out again?  I just gave you money yesterday.

Do you know where you want to go to college?  

Why don’t you stay in tonight?

Stay under the speed limit.

Your hands stay on the wheel, sister!

Stay strong.

Stay off the phone!

Why do you stay in your room all the time?

Will you stay near the dressing room and give me your advice? 

Stay with your sister.

Stay away from him.

Stay focused.

If your grades don’t stay up, the phone is mine!

Why do you have to stay for detention again?

Yes, you have to stay for the study session. 

You’re staying in tonight!

Stay true to yourself.

Are you staying at Sarah’s?

Stay in touch.  And you better answer your phone.

Don’t stay up all night.

Please stay awake.  It’s a long drive.  Do you need money?

Stay aware of your surroundings.

Is he going to stay for dinner?

Don’t stay if they’re drinking.

Stay calm.  I’m coming.

Stay on top of your college applications.

Stay positive.

mommyinthewoods.blogspot.com

Do you want to visit and stay in the dorm?

Stay close to God.

Are you staying in the sorority house?

Stay and watch The Notebook with me one last time. 

You’ll always stay my little girl.

Stay sweet, honey.

Is it time to go already?

Please. Stay.

Most Popular Posts

        Here's the summary of my most popular posts from the last two weeks:

BTW - PLEASE "Follow my blog" and "Subscribe."  Let's be clear, I'm SO not above begging.  


        Looks like "José Cuervo Might Move In" came in first. You can read it here for a good laugh.
It's about my plight with the cell phone company and Charlene, God's gift to Customer Service.

     

            I hope everyone had a good HALLOWEEN.  It has been very different for me and hubs the last few years because the kids are getting older.  I have a great story about that here.  I think you'll find it very touching.   It's about how the kids grow up so fast.

        By the way, since all the blogging experts say that you should write as if you have an audience of THOUSANDS, I'll go outside the box with my wonderful audience of 30 and ask,

 "WHAT SHOULD I WRITE ABOUT THIS WEEK?"  

        Is there something that gets on your last nerve, chaps your cheeks, curdles yer cream, puts sand in your craw?  

        Does it burn yer biscuit that when the kids go out and you have 1 hour and 45 min. to watch an R-rated movie, (you haven't seen one in a few years) that you always only get 3/4 of the way through because they have the gall to come back?  

        And why do they have to come back to YOUR house?  Maybe because all the other moms want to drink wine and watch Magic Mike?  Methinks.

        Does someone in your household leave HAIR on the bar of soap?  Did I hit a nerve?

        Why do your kids always take other people's advice and NOT yours?

        The bag of Halloween candy you just ate?

        How 'bout some Mom- and Dad-shaming photos?  

        Teaching your teenager how to DRIVE?  Doing that now!  AARRGGHH. . .  I just have to drink wine breathe deeply.  Did it in my SUV today—taught her to drive that is.

        Have a great week and PLEASE come back.  I'm trying to post new stuff every day!  BTW - "Follow" and "Subscribe" now.  The first 10 new followers get a bottle of José Cuervo and a straw. . .    

Wooo!  I crack myself up.

Halloween From the Eyes of a Parent

Happy Halloween everyone! 

       In between all the school parties, costumes, carving pumpkins, candy, and everything else you didn't get to, hope you can take a minute to read this—because it all goes so fast......

Halloween From the Eyes of a Parent

        When my children were in pre-school, Halloween was a much-anticipated, momentous occasion. It was a night in which the young were free to imagine, to giggle and scream, and to be who they truly were, deep in their five-year-old hearts. 

       Back then my kids put great thought into their elaborate Halloween costumes. My daughter was enraptured by Cinderella, and we bought the Disney maiden’s shiny blue dress weeks before the big night. Of course, a blond wig and tiny glass (plastic) slippers were essential.  

       Every piece of her costume had to be perfect; but unfortunately, because she had modeled the get-up for her daddy several times, my showgirl forgot where she put the show-stopping shoes. They had to be somewhere in the house. After tearing our living quarters apart for a solid hour, I glanced at the china cabinet.  

       Lo and behold, the silicone slip-ons sparkled in the illuminated display, occupying a place of distinction beside my glimmering wedding china. She forgot she had stashed them there, secure from her baby sister’s grasp. She concluded that the logical hiding place was, of course, among the china.

kandeelandkandeeland.blogspot.com

        Where else would you put “glass” slippers?

        As dusk approached on every All Hallows Eve, my husband and I spent grueling hours getting three kids ready, taking pictures, and simply striving for a photo in which no one was ogling at the camera with their nostrils against the lens. After I smoothed Cinderella’s hair and attached the last sash on my swashbuckler, my kids’ reality melted into a misty fantasy of fairy godmothers and fiery galleons on stormy seas.

        Whether the night was clear or whether a perfect storm brewed, a magical, mystical electricity penetrated their rationality. It stirred them into a suspended disbelief that vampires morphed into bats and goblins greeted those who dared to approach a house with no porch lights on. They relished the paranormal pageantry under the aura of dim streetlights but within safe range of strong arms.  

        Each stage of life melted into the next, and this year I must reluctantly adapt again.  For the first time, my son won’t be home this Halloween to steal peanut butter cups from his sisters’ pillowcases of loot. And there will be one less flickering jack-o’-lantern lining our entry hall of horrors as a glowing memorial to each family member.

        In May he walked across his high school stage and through the looking glass into another world. An adult world in which the roads are paved with promise and you have to pay for your own gas. On graduation day he donned his four-cornered tasseled hat and raised his treasured scroll. But my heart still pictures him donning his three-cornered pirate hat and raising his trusty scabbard. I turned around and a real five o’clock shadow replaced his black-marker mustache which was often eclipsed by a Gatorade one.

        Back then, each scrape and scar had a salty story, and a damsel in distress beckoned around every corner. At age five, he strode out the door to chase his dragons, and just a few months ago, he strode out the door to chase his dreams in college.  

        May his ship be guided by the compass of faith, and may his gleaming sword slay every giant that stands in his way.

        Through the years my little girl swirled into adolescence too. She traded her sparkly princess gown for a shimmery prom gown and now glides gracefully down the stairs in five-inch heels. 

ehow.com

        But I still see my Cinderella clack-clacking down the stairs in Barbie high heels, not bothered a bit that her crown slips precariously over one eye as she bounds over the last three steps. I cherished all the memories because I knew that in a moment her chubby little hands would clutch car keys instead of a candy pail.

lagliv.blogspot.com

        Years before, she flew out the door to carve her jack-o’-lanterns. And pretty soon she’ll fly out the door, trying out her wings in a great big world, carving her own future.  

        May her every pumpkin turn into a gleaming coach, and may she find glass slippers in the most unexpected places.

Pirates and Princesses: Halloween from the eyes of a mom

Pirates and Princesses

        When my children were in pre-school, Halloween was a much-anticipated, momentous occasion. It was a night in which the young were free to imagine, to giggle and scream, and to be who they truly were deep in their five-year-old hearts. 

Back then my kids put great thought into their elaborate Halloween costumes. My daughter was enraptured by Cinderella, and we bought the Disney maiden’s shiny blue dress weeks before the big night. Of course, a blond wig and diminutive glass (plastic) slippers were essential.  

Every piece of her costume had to be perfect; but unfortunately, because she had modeled the get-up for her daddy several times, my showgirl forgot where she put the show-stopping shoes.  They had to be somewhere in the house.  After tearing our living quarters apart for a solid hour, I glanced at the china cabinet.  

Lo and behold, the silicone slip-ons sparkled in the illuminated display, occupying a place of distinction beside my glimmering wedding china.  She forgot she had stashed them there, secure from her baby sister’s grasp. She concluded that the logical hiding place was, of course, among the china.

Where else would you put “glass” slippers?

As dusk approached on All Hallows Eve, my husband and I spent grueling hours getting three kids ready, taking pictures, and simply striving for a photo in which no one was ogling three inches from the camera with their nostrils against the lens.  After I smoothed Cinderella’s hair and attached the last sash on my swashbuckler, my kids’ reality melted into a misty fantasy of fairy godmothers and fiery galleons on stormy seas.

Whether the night was clear or whether a perfect storm brewed, a magical, mystical electricity penetrated their rationality.  It stirred them into a suspended disbelief that vampires morphed into bats and goblins greeted those who dared to approach a house with no porch lights on.  They relished the paranormal pageantry under the aura of dim streetlights but within safe range of strong arms.  

Each stage of life melted into the next, and this year my buccaneer will don his four-cornered tasseled hat and raise his treasured scroll. But my heart still pictures him donning his three-cornered pirate hat and raising his trusty scabbard.  I turned around and a real five o’clock shadow replaced his black-marker mustache which was often eclipsed by a Gatorade one.

Back then, each scrape and scar had a salty story, and a damsel in distress beckoned around every corner.  At age five, he strode out the door to chase his dragons, and at 18, he will stride out the door to chase his dreams.  

May his ship be guided by the compass of faith, and may his gleaming sword slay every giant that stands in his way.

Likewise, my baby girl traded her sparkly princess gown for a shimmery prom gown and now glides gracefully down the stairs in three-inch heels.  But I still see my Cinderella clack-clacking down the stairs in Barbie high heels, not bothered a bit that her crown slips precariously over one eye as she bounds over the last three steps.  I cherished all the memories because I knew that in a moment her chubby little hands would clutch car keys instead of a candy pail.

Years before, she flew out the door to carve her jack-o’-lanterns.  And pretty soon she’ll fly out the door, trying out her wings in a great big world, carving her own future.  

May her every pumpkin turn into a gleaming coach, and may she find glass slippers in the most unexpected places.