Army of Mom

So this is how liberty dies ... with thunderous applause.


A Mother's Day Poem

He didn't like the casserole
And he didn't like my cake.
He said my biscuits were too hard...
Not like his mother used to make.
I didn't perk the coffee right
He didn't like the stew,
I didn't mend his socks
The way his mother used to do.
I pondered for an answer, I was looking for a clue.
Then I turned and smacked the shit out of him...
Like his mother used to do.

Hat tip to Kelvinator.

This "poem" makes me laugh especially hard because my husband, when we were newlyweds, would give me grief because I used Ragu or Hamburger Helper and his mom made everything from scratch, etc, etc. It wasn't much longer after we got married that he started doing about half of the cooking, because he could make everything from scratch. Now, if I could just get him to clean up after himself, I'd be all set. I

Regardless, it should be a great Mother's Day. I have my mom with me today and my three little reasons why I get to enjoy Mother's Day. My sweet Pickle had AoD give him some money to buy me a corsage at mass last night. Very sweet, indeed.


  • At 3:47 PM, May 14, 2007, Blogger El Capitan said…

    OK, never having been married, I can only hypothesize about this situation, but it seems to me the correct response would be:

    "No, I don't make spaghetti like your mother. No, I don't cook anything at all like your mother. Your mother doesn't s#(% your d!(%, either, so everything's got a trade-off. Siddown and eat!"

    Of course, that might open a big ol' can of Oedipal worms that you didn't intend...

  • At 7:00 PM, May 15, 2007, Blogger Army of Mom said…

    Now THAT is funny. Why didn't I think of that?


Post a Comment

<< Home