Grandma Henke

I wrote this poem on Mother’s Day in the 1990′s.

 

 

Some years ago when I was young, I met a perfect Mom.

Her children always looked just so, and they would do no wrong.

Their clothes were never stained or soiled when they went out to play,

And they put them in the hamper at the end of every day.

Their hands were always washed and clean, not one dirty spot.

No slime upon their faces, not ever any snot!

If they should have a boogie in their5 perky little nose,

It never went into their mouth, for that would be quite gross.

Her house was spotless, every room, no matter who dropped by.

And from the oven you could smell her fresh baked apple pie.

No baked on goo on was on her stove, or dishes in her sink,

Her fridge was full of casseroles, not growing things that stink.

Her floors were never sticky with milk, or juice, or mud,

And when you sat in her chairs, you never sat in crud!

She never had to raise her voice to get her kids to mind.

They never threw a tantrum;  They were all so sweet and kind.

She was very thrifty and made everything they needed.

And her garden, full of food and flowers, never needed weeded.

Her meals were quite delectable; fast food were not her game.

She had her meals planned for the month, and not one of them the same.

Her children all got A’s in school, and never missed a day.

She loved the teacher visits and the nice things they would say.

Her car was always spotless, not even one smashed bug,

And never was there food or drink spilled upon its rug.

She never had to diet, for she never over ate.

No one had to wait for her, for she was never late.

I know you’d like to meet this mom, this perfect mom I knew,

But, I found out several years ago her story isn’t true.

This mother’s name was Harriet, an actress out for fame.

Her husband was an actor, too, and Ozzie was his name.

Real mom’s, too, are actresses with lots of roles to play,

Their script goes on forever, every hour night and day,

Their script goes on forever, every hour night and day.

And though they wouldn’t trade their role for any single other,

They know it’s not an easy job, this one of being mother.

This job takes lots of courage, and its full of many fears,

You need a sense of humor, and it takes a lot of tears.

It takes a lot of time on knees and asking for direction,

Heavenly Father knows that motherhood doesn’t mean perfection.

It means you have to make a choice on how to spend your time,

Spend more time with the children?  Or more time on the grime?

There’s days you just can’t get it done,  so then prioritize,

But, you can’t expect perfection now … that’s one of Satan’s lies.

So throw out all that awful guilt, and remember every night,

That tomorrow there’s another chance to do the job up right.

When all is said and done, you know, there isn’t any other,

Could love those kids like you do; for you’re those children’s mother.