Mom, can you…?

Mom, can you…?

Material for this column comes from all different places. Some expected, some not so much. And then there is the whole “I am over 50, my memory isn’t what it used to be, did I write about this already, or did I just repeat the same story to Husband #1 15 times?” (I have most definitely done the latter, and unfortunately for Husband #1, more than just 15 times.) I do know, however, that when my monkeys were younger, the material just flowed from everywhere and it flowed all of the time. Now that they are older and are all oreos, I have to be a little more careful in what I write about. I don’t want to offend their religious pursuits or sound like I am nothing but extremely proud of the paths they have chosen to take, but it is a fine line. Sarcasm is in my blood, and it is part of the air I breathe, so take from that what you will. Though having Dil #1 stay with us has been a remarkably good influence on me, and I have not uttered any bad words in a few weeks. Go me.

In any event, when the kids were younger, I often looked forward to the “Mom can you” phone calls. Anyone who is lucky and blessed enough to be a parent knows what these phone calls are. “Mom, can you bring me my lunch?” “Mom, can you bring me my homework?” “ Mom, can you call the office to tell them why I was late?” “Mom, can you find the folder that has my report in it and bring it to school?” “Mom, can you wash my hockey jersey and then bring it for practice?” Yes, the momcanyou call. I had started to miss them. 

Now that I have three monkeys in different places, and they aren’t always a quick car ride away, I was beginning to think that I was never going to get those calls again. Empty nests are a big adjustment; add having only boys to that and it can be very quiet and sometimes lonely, and a huge adjustment in any case. Though I happen to be very lucky/blessed/grateful that I do speak to my boys pretty regularly, I was pretty sure that the momcanyou phone calls were done.

But miracles do still happen. 

This morning, I received a momcanyou call. To be perfectly honest, it was a momcanyou watsapp. Which went to the whole family (except for those who are too religious for a smart phone and don’t have watsapp). But, as any mother knows, I went into Batman mode. That watsapp was like the bat signal. My kid needed me! Where was my cape? Where was my Batmobile? And where was this computer that my 24-year-old married father of one needed that he couldn’t remember to bring with him in the first place? 

It didn’t matter. I was prepared. Even though the last time I responded to one of these calls, none of my joints creaked when I was able to get up into a standing position, and my hair wasn’t 50 shades of gray and whatever the hair salon tried to cover the gray with — you get the point. 

But I trained my entire life for this moment. For this momcanyou call that I never thought I would receive again. He still needs me. Hey, did you hear that, girl moms? HE still needs me!!!!. Ok, perhaps I am going a little overboard here. 

Truth is, Son #3 tried to piggyback on Son #1’s momcanyou watsapp and asked if I could bring him some snacks. And truth is, in my younger years, I would have run to the nearest store and over-bought all of his favorites, but, in my older years, I have gotten a little smarter. Not much smarter, mind you, but just a little. I gave Son #3 six minutes to respond to my “what kind of snacks?” response. 

But, alas, he did not answer in time and Batman left the building, computer in hand, off to help Son #1 save the day. That is right, behind every powerful man is a bedraggled mother who has devoted her whole life to making him happy. But that is for another column.

Here is hoping your momcanyou’s keep making you smile for many years to come.

Banji Ganchrow of Teaneck is wondering why it is so hard to find a black and white gown and is thinking of just renting an oreo costume and calling it a day…

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