Dirty Dishes and Mother's Day

Tonight while Arron was dirtying the kitchen making dinner, I made a comment about all of the dirty dishes he was making. It seems like sometimes he has to use every plate, bowl, and cup we have to make one meal. Anyway, I digress...  I made a comment and he immediately started singing a song by Scotty McCreery called "Dirty Dishes." He went and put it on our surround sound, and started singing and trying to dance with me while I was cleaning. 

It got me thinking, since it's Mother's Day, about Momma, and what kind of mother I want to be. I feel like this is how Momma felt sometimes, even if she seemed exasperated and frustrated. I know she valued my love, along with Jacki's and Paul's, more than anything in the world. And I know she gave thanks every day for each one of us. She was thankful for her job, along with Pop's, for putting food on the table and Barbies and Lego's in our toy boxes.

I miss her dearly every day. I hope, if she is able to look down upon me, that she is proud of the daughter she raised.

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Momma hollered, "Suppertime,
And don't make me tell you twice,
Wash your hands and wipe your face.
The table's no place for your toys,
And try to use your inside voice.
Don't dig in until we say grace."
So we put down our forks and bowed our heads,
Then she prayed the strangest prayer ever said:

"I wanna thank you Lord,
For noisy children and slamming doors,
Clothes scattered all over the floor,
A husband working all the time,
Dragging in dead tired at night,
A never-ending messy kitchen,

And dirty dishes."

We all got real still and quiet,
And Daddy asked, "Hon, are you alright?"
She said, "There ain't nothing wrong.
Noisy kids are happy kids,
And slamming doors just means we live
In a warm and loving home. 
Your long hours and those dishes in the sink
Means a job and enough to eat."

"So I'm gonna thank you Lord,
For noisy children and slamming doors,
And clothes scattered all over the floor,
A husband working all the time,
Dragging in dead tired at night,
A never-ending messy kitchen,

And dirty dishes."

"For my little busy bees,
Begging, 'Momma, Momma can we please?'
Always wanting me and calling me,
Loads of laundry piling up,
Crayons crushed into the rug,
And those little sticky kisses,
And dirty dishes...."

-Scotty McCreery, "Dirty Dishes"