They Fly Away

The ultimate goal of motherhood

Is to raise up baby birds

Who will someday fly away.

We know that we’ve succeeded

When they no longer need us

To drive them to school

To walk them home from school

To brush or comb their hair

To give them sweet milkie at bedtime

To advise them of the dangers of riding the Blue Line at night

To advise them of the dangers of smoking cigarettes

To advise them of the dangers of drinking too much beer

To advise them of the dangers of premarital “relations”

To advise them of the dangers of washing their whites with their darks

God bless all of my fledglings today!

Happy NaPoWriMo to you, Mother Goose

Spring has sprung up around Mother Goose when she wasn’t looking! And with spring comes a certain stirring in the heart of a goose. No, it is not the “Call of the Wild” for the cause of procreation — Mother Goose has done enough procreating in the past 26 years to keep the family genetics ongoing for several generations to come!

Indeed, what I feel is NaPoWriMo springing up within my feathery bosom.

Mother Goose is nose-diving into the crystal clear pond of National Poetry Writing Month here on WordPress and I believe that I’ll go down deeper than any goose may have gone before. I will most assuredly find uncharted waters as I share my poetry with all of my most devoted and sincerely faithful followers.

Today is the first day.

Shall we begin?

Home is where Mom makes lunch.

a story of love
inside my heart
the sound of dishes clatter

you hold my hand
I kiss your cheek
my babies pitter patter

I cook your lunch
you sniff your tears
oh baby, what’s the matter?

don’t like my soup
please pick me up
Mommy be Mad Hatter

we laugh and lunch
whirl kitchen dance
soupy spinning splatter

Monday Reflection of Mother Goose

With the beginning of the school year upon us, Mother Goose hearkens back to days gone by. Often she contemplates the history of her children, their plans, her dreams for them and where they are today. Mother Goose just LOVES doing compare and contrast studies, even on her offspring.

I bring to you today, a document that Mother Goose has kept posted on the refrigerator or washing machine for the past ten years. I created it ten years ago in order to imagine where all of my goslings will be in the “next ten years”. The time has come to compare and contrast — plans, dreams and reality.

Crumpled plans…

When I made the chart, oldest daughter Jessi was in high school and the baby, AnnaRose, was not yet a year old. I listed out the grades that each of the kids would be in for that year and for the next nine years to come. This became a very handy tool when somebody would ask me, “Mother Goose, what grade will I be in when Adam and Erik are in 8th grade?” or “Mom, when Jessi is in college, where will I be?”

Everything went according to the plan until the school year 2005-2006 when Jessi didn’t go to college. Well, she went to college for a little while. We drove her to upstate New York and left her at a Bible College, but that didn’t work out. She soon returned on a train after spending the semester in the Dean’s office…

So then she was not in college until 2008, but I didn’t bother to change the chart because it was so charming to see how it was all working out.

Then the plans for Adam and Erik were all fine until the year 2010 – 2011 when they should have been Juniors in college. They decided to work for awhile and then they joined the U.S. Navy. And by then their older sister WAS in college, but not working. Fortunately the younger siblings have all stayed on track so far. They have been going to their correct grades and following the plans of their Mother Goose.

It seems that the children follow the plan very well until they reach the end of high school! And then they begin to make changes to reflect on their own hopes and dreams. Imagine that!

At some point, the offspring of Mother Goose become independent thinkers. For that, I am most grateful. I reach my wing around and pat myself on the back for raising these children to think for themselves. I am singing for joy, and honking in merriment that this bit of family history has been preserved for the generations to come.

Do you see the far right column where it says that the three older goslings would be working? Yes, they are working out just fine. Jessi is working and applying to a Masters Degree program at the University of Illinois at Chicago. Erik and Adam are working for Uncle Sam as “nukes” in the greatest Navy in the world.

Here’s a proverb that seems to apply today:

“In her heart a goose plans the course of her goslings, but the Lord determines their steps.” Proverbs 16:9 (paraphrased…)

Love, Mother Goose

Hell Week for the Goose

“I do not believe in God, because I do not believe in Mother Goose.” Clarence Darrow

Perhaps Clarence was confused about the reality of Mother Goose. He was definitely confused about God. But even Mother Goose who has abundant faith, hope and love is at a loss for an explanation when it comes to the events of this past week. Let’s reflect together for just a few minutes about the Hell Week of a Goose.

On Monday, the youngest of the goslings mentioned that she felt something was in her eye. Mother Goose looked and saw nothing.

On Tuesday, the child’s eyelid was puffed up like a cumulus cloud. Mother Goose ran to her medicine cabinet and pulled out two ophthalmic products — a small bottle of eye drops and a tube of neomycin ointment (an antibiotic). She dutifully applied both products to the right eye of the child. Within an hour, the pupil in the child’s right eye was completely dilated. The puffiness had not diminished.

Not my daughter’s eye, but definitely a dilated pupil.

Well, how strange, thought Mother Goose. “Let’s just go to sleep now, and I’m sure you’ll be fine tomorrow morning for the first day of school.”

And, of course, in the morning, the eye was puffier than ever and the pupil was still dilated. The brave child went off to school anyway, leaving Mother Goose at home to Google this problem, and to make an appointment with the doctor. The antibiotic cream was fine, according to Google. Mother Goose now googled the name of the prescription eyedrops, Atropine. “A very strong medicine for dilating the pupil, used primarily for glaucoma patients, people with bleeding eyes and dogs with eye infections…”

Yes, our dog had used these drops in her eyes just a few months ago for her eye infection.

Oh, Mother Goose…

Four days later, my daughter’s pupil is nearly back to its normal size and activity.

Oh, Mother Goose…

Also this week, the husband of Mother Goose was the subject of a dental procedure — the extraction of his abscessed molar.

The molar of husband Goose didn’t look this good…

On the same day, one of the goosemobiles suffered a meltdown, requiring a $500 repair at the Pep Boys.

They do everything for less…

Another of the goslings accidentally smashed his arm into a door, requiring a trip to the Emergency Room at our local hospital. The poor fellow cracked it so terribly hard that he couldn’t straighten it out. The good folks at West Suburban Medical Center took a few xrays and determined that the arm was neither broken nor dislocated, only horribly bruised.

We’ve been here several times over the years…

Whew… it’s been just awful for Mother Goose who was crying and honking all at the same time.

Did I mention that I also sliced a huge chunk out of my index finger as I washed the perpetual dishes one morning?

Do you ever have days like these? Do you ever just want to throw your wings up in the air and give up? Do you shake your fist at the heavens and swear revenge on the universe? Have you ever just wanted to go back to bed and start the week all over again?

Mother Goose shed her fair share of tears this week in the course of these light and momentary struggles and trials. There was even a bit of shouting in our normally peaceful nest. Yes, shouting. Can you even imagine?

But whether we believe in Mother Goose or in God, either or both, here’s the eventual outcome:

Each of us survived our personal battles this week. Each of us has made it to Friday night, pretty much intact. We are weary of the Hell Week and hope that tomorrow and the next day will be better, but deep within each of us is the truth that no matter what problems we face, what fears we have, no matter if the incorrect eye drops have been placed in our eyes, it’s gonna be OK.

When we get to the other side of Hell Week, we are full of hope that we can probably get through anything. There is much grace in Hell Week. It’s gonna be OK.

It’s one of the favorite sayings of Mother Goose — she knows it’s true because she lives it out every day.

It’s gonna be OK. Really!