MOM’S LETTER TO SON

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Dear Son, my own flesh and blood:

To see you would be a sight for sore eyes.  You are the heart of my heart.

So you have a gut feeling your boss is about to give you a kick in the teeth? He didn’t like it when you were caught red handed, then had a slip of the tongue and called him a pain in the neck?  That put his nose out of joint, you say?

If he’s giving you a cold shoulder and you are not seeing eye to eye, you might not get the promotion you’ve had your eyes on.  Just keep your nose to the grindstone, your shoulder to the wheel, keep a stiff upper lip, stay on your toes, and keep your fingers crossed.  It certainly won’t help to put your foot in your mouth,  get cold feet or say something that gets you in over your head. Maybe he is just pulling your leg.  If you keep your eyes open, your chin up, offer to lend him a hand,  and work your fingers to the bone you might keep the job by the skin of your teeth if you’re not weak-kneed, rubber-spined or thick-headed.

Have you had your head in the clouds and do you wear your heart on your sleeve or have you been crying your heart out?  A good rule of thumb is to wash your hands of your pride, beg his mercy, pat yourself on the back, go back to your neck of the woods, let your hair down, and play it by ear.  But be prepared for your blood to boil if he chooses to just step over your dead body.

I just wanted to speak my mind and get this off my chest.  My lips are sealed, and I’m here to help you face the music.  You’re my heart’s delight.  I’ve loved you, warts and all, since you were wet behind the ears.  I’d give an arm and leg for you. Now have a cookie for your sweet tooth, take the weight off your shoulders, relax and keep your head above the water.

Meanwhile, hang on to that job with all four feet, grow some hair on your chest, get some iron in your blood, and grow nerves of steel, come to your senses, dig your heels in, and use some elbow grease, ‘cause, make no bones about it,  you can’t bring your lazy carcass to my couch, feed your face at my table, and spin your hard luck stories in my ears.  You will not be a yoke on my back. If you plan to be here under my nose I will wash my hands of you.

From your bone weary but loving mother

About oneta hayes

ABOUT ME Hello. To various folks I am Neat’nee, Mom, Grandma Neta, Gramma, Aunt Neta, Aunt Noni, Aunt Neno, and Aunt Neto (lots of varieties from little nieces and nephews). To some I’m more like “Didn’t you used to be my teacher?” or “Don’t I know you from someplace?” To you, perhaps, I am a Fellow Blogger. Not “fellow” like a male or a guy, but “fellow” like a companion or an adventurer. I would choose to be Grandma Blogger, and have you pull up a chair, my website before you, while I tell you of some days of yore. I have experienced life much differently than most of you. It was and is a good life. I hope to share nuggets of appreciation for those who have gone before me and those who come after me. By necessity you are among those who come after me and I will tell you of those who came before. Once upon a time in a little house on a prairie - oops, change that lest I commit plagiarism - and change that “house on the prairie” to “dugout on the prairie.” So my story begins...
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8 Responses to MOM’S LETTER TO SON

  1. jsneese62 says:

    I always took my kids in whenever they needed help, but there were always rules attached to that help. They were made to understand it was my house so my rules and if they did not like it they were free to go elsewhere. My son who is now 42 years old only came back home once for a short period of time when he left the Army and needed a little help getting back on his feet. He followed my rules just like he had growing up.
    My daughter who will soon be 40 years old I thought I was going to have to install a revolving door. She had many issues in early adulthood and so she was often homeless so she would come home. She knew the rules and chief among them was no drinking and no drug use. She broke the no drugs rule more than once and when I found out I would kick her out. The last time was in the middle of winter and I told her she was an adult and if she wanted to slowly kill herself with drugs I couldn’t stop her, but I didn’t have to watch her do it either. She did finally get clean and has been for a couple decades now. In 2006 I left my hometown for Texas so she had to learn to stand on her own two feet and she finally has, but it took a toll on her life and her health, but as I told her there is always a price for the mistakes we make and eventually it has to be made.

    • oneta hayes says:

      You sound like the kind of mother she needed. I know it must have been terrible tough. My post was written in humor, but I guess it shows a lot of my mothering techniques.

      • jsneese62 says:

        I think God gives us certain children for that reason because we are what they need. If she had a mother that was more soft in their approach to her I don’t think she would have survived. I grew up with an alcoholic mother so I know that enabling never helps it only harms. The three years she was gone from my life was incredibly hard and it aged me a lot, but when she came she was healthy once again and even said she didn’t blame me for throwing her and it had saved her life.
        Yes, I did see your mothering techniques in what you wrote and mother to mother I believe you are one like that ascribes to tough love over pampering.

  2. Gary Fultz says:

    My mom and my younger brother:
    Mom, you don’t look very happy…I’m getting married, It’s a happy day!!
    Son, I’m sorry but your living together took the sizzle out of it.
    Were you related to my mom Onita?? you speak your mins well. I Love it.

    • oneta hayes says:

      I agree with your mother one hundred percent. I would be glad they were getting married but I would not pay much for the wedding! I’d give them the price of the marriage license. 😀 Sounds like I would love your mother. Thanks for letting me know I pass your five minutes worth. I keep the posts short so I have no time to fiddle around. Also I’m 88; I’m in a hurry to finish this post or comment just in case this breath is my last. 😀

  3. Dawn Marie says:

    The heart of a mother has such great layers of depth. Tough love being a providential one.

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