This is a page in happy process because all mother's have fond memories of those funny little stories of things their kids said or did.  We all know that laughter really is a wonderful medicine, so, please share your stories for me to share here with everyone who stops by for some coping comfort.  A smile brought on by your story may evoke a good memory for a mother.

 

Holly told this story about her 4-year old son, Joel...

It seems tar had gotten onto their van, and Holly commented  " I wonder how that tar got there? " 

Excitedly Joel replied  "I know, I know.  Tar comes from ASSHOLES!!....am I allowed to say that?" 

Trying not to bust up laughing Holly said  "Joel, I think you mean asphalt."
 

 

When my son Scott began Kindergarten, he was angered by the way he was teased about his long thick eye-lashes (he had the kind every woman would just die to have!) so he remedied that one day with the scissors.  Yes... he cut them short, and then topped it off by shaving his arms! 

I was horrified but he was happy!
 

 
"Passing the Torch"

Is there a magic cutoff period when offspring become accountable for their own actions? Is there a wonderful moment when parents can become detached spectators in the lives of their children and shrug, "It's their life," and feel nothing?

When I was in my twenties, I stood in a hospital corridor waiting for doctors to put a few stitches in my son's head. I asked, "When do you stop worrying?" The nurse said, "When they get out of the accident stage..." My mother just smiled faintly and said nothing.

When I was in my thirties, I sat on a little chair in a classroom and heard how one of my children talked incessantly, disrupted the class, and was headed for a career making license plates. As if to read my mind, a teacher said, "Don't worry. They all go through this stage and then you can sit back, relax and enjoy them." My mother listened and said nothing...

When I was in my forties, I spent a lifetime waiting for the phone to ring, the cars to come home, the front door to open. A friend said, "They're trying to find themselves. Don't worry in a few years, you can stop worrying. They'll be adults."

By the time I was 50, I was sick and tired of being vulnerable. I was still worrying over my children, but there was a new wrinkle. There was nothing I could do about it.

I continued to anguish over their failures, be tormented by their frustrations and absorbed in their disappointments. My friends said that when my kids got married I could stop worrying and lead my own life. I wanted to believe that, but I was haunted by my mother's wan smile and her occasional, "You look pale. Are you all right? Call me the minute you get home. Are you depressed about something?"

Can it be that parents are sentenced to a lifetime of worry? Is concern for one another handed down like a torch to blaze the trail of human frailties the fears of the unknown? Is concern a curse or is it a virtue that elevates us to the highest form of life?

One of my children became quite irritable recently, saying to me, "Where were you? I've been calling for 3 days, and no one answered. I was worried."

I smiled a wan smile. The torch has been passed.

IS IT TIME FOR YOU TO "PASS THE TORCH?"