Socks and Scissors

I'm not a mother. But thankfully, I have a wonderful mother who is alive and well and reading these lines with all of you. I think it's great for mothers to get some official recognition, and maybe some flowers, presents and chocolate.

Mothers are the nurturers of the universe; they keep us from going out in the rain with just our socks on, from running with scissors, and from crossing our eyes until they stick, among other things. They give us the best pieces of the chicken, the last cookie in the box, and the slice of cake with the most icing.

In cold Alabama winters when I was a kid and our linoleum floor would be icy for even a socked foot to touch, my mother had me stand on her feet and hold her hands while we walked across the living room floor.

I'm not a mother. At least not in the biological sense that seems the only way to get a pretty flowery Hallmark card. And lest you all think I'm about to cry over spilled breast milk, you're wrong! Whimper, yes. Cry, no.

People sometimes ask why I have no children. And I choose whatever reason is closest to my lips at the time to try and satisfy their question. Truth is there's not just one good reason, but a bunch of passable justifications for my lack of participation in the proliferation of the human race.

So like a good writer I have gone to the Webster's dictionary to define "mother" in a way I can stretch that definition to include myself somehow. Writers can do that; it's one of our privileges.

Well, one meaning is "source or origin". Hmmm...I like that. I mean I am the "Mother" of my column "SMIDGENS", right? And if I use mother as a verb, "mother" means to protect or look after in a motherly way. Well, I definitely qualify there. I provide food, water, shelter and care to my little dog, "Raymond." I teach him tricks (okay, that's designed for my enjoyment), expose him to new experiences and try to teach him right from wrong.

I've been lucky to have some wise and beautiful little humans of other mothers appear and hang out with me for a little while, too. Lauren and Justin were two of them. For a few years, and in snippets of a week or two at a time, I was responsible for their well being. I took them to Disney World for their first time. I'm watching them grow up into wise and beautiful big humans in photos that pop up on my computer screen from time to time.

And now in my life, there are two grown people who were children not so long ago. They won't go hungry if I don't make them something to eat. They already know not to run with scissors. And most days it seems they know most of anything else I'd want to tell them. But not everyday. In those rare moments I try to pass along some life lesson sound bite.

So here's my plan---if all of you dear readers forward today's story to everyone you know (and to Hallmark), maybe just maybe, next year a card or two will appear in the Mother's Day category with "Happy Mothering Day" on the front. And even if that doesn't happen I'll still be happy to play a supporting role without a byline whenever I get the chance.

©2004