Secret Life of Moms
Mid-Century Moms rarely hovered over their children, but what in the world did they do or go when they disappeared from our sight?
Photo by Reba Spike on Unsplash
What do Moms do while we are at play?
They shove us into sunlit days
After breakfast and a soapy scrub.
For hours we tag each other in grassy yards
Or test our negotiation skills
In the sandbox. Scraped knees
Heads and elbows on pavement
Bring smears of iodine
And a pristine white band-aid
From any mom who will nurse
Our wounds in a kitchen clear
Of the morning dishes.
Another mom doles out handfuls
Of frosted graham cracker treats
Or chocolate chip cookies
Still warm from the oven.
A referee suddenly appears
To decide with Solomon wisdom
Who sits inside for a timeout.
Otherwise, Moms remain
Mysteriously unseen all day.
When the shadows grow long
And Dads' cars pull into the driveways
Mom voices, each with its own cadence,
Call us home, our names ringing
Up and down neighborhood streets.
Dinner aromas fill the house
Blending with laundry soap
And furniture polish.
News blares from the TV
As Moms tuck us into bed
Fresh sheets cool our skin
As they kiss us goodnight.
But the mystery remains
What did the Moms do all day
While we played in our own
Little world outside?