MY MOM'S BLOG POST #1

I found some things my mom had written years ago. Some of these things are just a blog, before the blogging world. So because she isn't here to put them on a blog, I figured as a blogging mom, daughter, granddaughter, or whatever you want to call me. It is my place to post them, as an honor to my MOM. These are things I feel, almost as if I may have been the one to write them. But let me reassure you, I did not. Some are short stories, some are poems, some are simple thoughts, and some are her thoughts on her faith. I wanted to post one a week, so every Tuesday night, I am planning on doing a MY MOM'S BLOG POST...So enjoy.

"Of all the creations on the earth today there is one that boggles the minds of reasonably civilized adults. That thing in question is the bedroom of the adolescent boy. It never fails, a mother can beg and plead and eve stoop so low as to clean the atrocity herself and within minutes of said son enters the said bedroom and voila' the said bedroom is again in said son's state of blissful disaster area. There have been times when I felt that by entering some of these areas in my charmed life that I felt truly alive. There is the saying that a person lives twice. Once when they are born and once when they die. The person that said this was either a parent of sons or they didn't know what they are talking about. I have more than once entered my son's room to perform the dreaded task of shoveling the mess somewhere else. When the ceiling of the room below starts to groan It is time to clean. Some of the filth that I have removed from my son's room have been apple cores that were shoved down to the foot of his bed under the covers. Green bologna is another favorite. This stuff is usually found in unassuming places like the back of his closet and sometimes in his sock drawer. I thought he had put dirty socks back in his drawer. The times that it is necessary to take my life in my hands to search out missing socks and such is when I find not only missing socks but, I also find the remains of ice cream in a bowl that had petrified for so long that the spoon has been joined permanently to the bowl, in a conglomeration of chocolate ice-cream, marshmallow creme and a half chewed maraschino cherry. My son has a strange idea of what a toy should consist of. He will drag home broken radios and tape players to take apart what is still left of it. The parts of these things will pile up until he leaves for school. I must say that I once thought he didn't know when these things disappeared when he proved me wrong. At first I thought I was losing my mind. The things that I had been tripping over were the same things that I thought I had thrown away. One day I was in the kitchen when I heard the most awful noise coming from the garbage cans. A wounded boy came into the kitchen with an armload of miscellaneous parts in his arms demanding who could be so cruel as to throw his treasures into the garbage. I did not have the courage to tell him that I was the cruel thing in question. Since then I have learned my lesson. I thrown the treasures out right before the garbage is picked up. He knows no better and I don't think he realizes that his priceless treasures are now catching the light on the top of the sanitary landfill."

By the Late Donna Molyneux Died December 26, 1999