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What Ode To Mother Really Means
by Wendy Surber

M is for the MANY times I wished whiskey soaked teething rings were legal.

O is for the strange and mysterious ODORS that only having children can create. It took us a month to figure out the formula bottle wedged between the couch cushions.

T is for those cold nights I lovingly TUCKED you in. The only way we could find you the next morning was by the lock of hair sticking out on your pillow.

H is for the HAIR-BRAINED ideas I had of hiding the beets in the yogurt, thinking I could go to the bathroom without an audience, and eating a meal without a child using me for a jungle gym.

E is for the ENDLESS hours I endured with Barney stuck in my head singing, "I Love You..."

R is for the times my children ROARED with laughter when I told them for the hundredth time to stop spitting on the cat!

Happy Mother's Day!


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