Hey, Mom.
Those two little words say a mouthful. I'm proud to say, after years of careful study, I've (almost) cracked the code: I know what will come after in (most) every instance.
It's not like I haven't had plenty of practice. With three daughters, I daresay I've heard that phrase, "Hey, Mom" more than any other in my life.
I hear it when I pick them up for school.
"Hey, Mom. What's there for a snack?"
I hear it when they are eating said snack.
"Hey, Mom. What's for supper?"
I hear it when I'm working at night and they call my cell.
"Hey, Mom. When will you be home?"
I hear it so much I can distinguish the subtle vocal differences and what they mean.
I can detect the sheepishness of the 7 a.m. "Hey, Mom."
"Hey, Mom. I forgot. I need to be at school at 7:30 today."
I can hear the exasperation of the 7:15 a.m. "Hey, Mom."
"Hey, Mom. We're out of milk. Again." (Emphasis on "again" for dramatic effect, because I am a terrible, horrible mom.)
I can hear the frustration of the 9 p.m. "Hey, Mom."
"Hey, Mom. I don't have any socks. Can we go to Walmart?" (The answer is no, we cannot go to Walmart at 9 p.m. to buy socks. Do. Your. Laundry.)
The long, slow questioning "Heeeeeeey, Moooom?" signals I'm about to be hit with a request. "Can I have the car? Can I go to her house? Can she come to our house? Can we go to the mall? Can I go here and there and everywhere?
"Can we get ice cream?"
Once in awhile, the "Hey, Mom" is choked out through tears. It's getting harder to fix their problems: Gone are the days of simple kisses to fix a boo-boo on the knee but so far, there's been nothing too catastrophic. (Thank God.)
My favorite are the "Hey, Moms" spoken in the quietest of moments. Like when I'm resting on my bed and my 12-year-old comes in and with a bare whisper of a "Hey, Mom," slips in next to me and I get to hug her, and for a moment, it feels like she's 3 years old again.
When my 10-year-old quietly and breathlessly says "Hey, Mom," I know she has something very important on her mind.
This week, it was Mother's Day.
"Hey, Mom? What do you like?" she asked.
The randomness of her question caught me off guard. I like a lot of things: Greek food, black cats, summer days at the lake, Santa Fe. But I could tell by her earnestness this was important, so I asked for a little clarification.
"What do you like, like for Mother's Day?"
She's thoughtful, this one.
Soon we will be entering the final countdown for my oldest. Next year, she will be graduating. As it is now, when I am coming, she is going, and I hear "Hey, Mom" from her less and less.
Once in awhile, though, when I'm lucky, I will get an unsolicited, single word text from her:
"Hey."
A more cynical mother would assume my teen is just bored. But I am an optimist, and I know that bored or not, she chose me to text. It's a small victory, but I'll take it.
One day this week, I was awakened by one of the girls shouting, "Hey, Mom!" I wasn't even out of bed and it was starting.
Maybe it was the early hour. Maybe if I was certain which girl it even was - the older they get the more they sound alike.
But no, I couldn't quite place my finger on the subtext of this early morning exclamation. But I knew one thing for sure: It wasn't someone asking me what I wanted for Mother's Day.
I rolled over and tried to go back to sleep. My girls know where to find me if they need me.
And they certainly know how to get my attention.
- Mary Jane Grenzow is editor of the Monroe Times.
She can be reached at
editor@themonroetimes.com.
Her column appears on Saturdays.
Those two little words say a mouthful. I'm proud to say, after years of careful study, I've (almost) cracked the code: I know what will come after in (most) every instance.
It's not like I haven't had plenty of practice. With three daughters, I daresay I've heard that phrase, "Hey, Mom" more than any other in my life.
I hear it when I pick them up for school.
"Hey, Mom. What's there for a snack?"
I hear it when they are eating said snack.
"Hey, Mom. What's for supper?"
I hear it when I'm working at night and they call my cell.
"Hey, Mom. When will you be home?"
I hear it so much I can distinguish the subtle vocal differences and what they mean.
I can detect the sheepishness of the 7 a.m. "Hey, Mom."
"Hey, Mom. I forgot. I need to be at school at 7:30 today."
I can hear the exasperation of the 7:15 a.m. "Hey, Mom."
"Hey, Mom. We're out of milk. Again." (Emphasis on "again" for dramatic effect, because I am a terrible, horrible mom.)
I can hear the frustration of the 9 p.m. "Hey, Mom."
"Hey, Mom. I don't have any socks. Can we go to Walmart?" (The answer is no, we cannot go to Walmart at 9 p.m. to buy socks. Do. Your. Laundry.)
The long, slow questioning "Heeeeeeey, Moooom?" signals I'm about to be hit with a request. "Can I have the car? Can I go to her house? Can she come to our house? Can we go to the mall? Can I go here and there and everywhere?
"Can we get ice cream?"
Once in awhile, the "Hey, Mom" is choked out through tears. It's getting harder to fix their problems: Gone are the days of simple kisses to fix a boo-boo on the knee but so far, there's been nothing too catastrophic. (Thank God.)
My favorite are the "Hey, Moms" spoken in the quietest of moments. Like when I'm resting on my bed and my 12-year-old comes in and with a bare whisper of a "Hey, Mom," slips in next to me and I get to hug her, and for a moment, it feels like she's 3 years old again.
When my 10-year-old quietly and breathlessly says "Hey, Mom," I know she has something very important on her mind.
This week, it was Mother's Day.
"Hey, Mom? What do you like?" she asked.
The randomness of her question caught me off guard. I like a lot of things: Greek food, black cats, summer days at the lake, Santa Fe. But I could tell by her earnestness this was important, so I asked for a little clarification.
"What do you like, like for Mother's Day?"
She's thoughtful, this one.
Soon we will be entering the final countdown for my oldest. Next year, she will be graduating. As it is now, when I am coming, she is going, and I hear "Hey, Mom" from her less and less.
Once in awhile, though, when I'm lucky, I will get an unsolicited, single word text from her:
"Hey."
A more cynical mother would assume my teen is just bored. But I am an optimist, and I know that bored or not, she chose me to text. It's a small victory, but I'll take it.
One day this week, I was awakened by one of the girls shouting, "Hey, Mom!" I wasn't even out of bed and it was starting.
Maybe it was the early hour. Maybe if I was certain which girl it even was - the older they get the more they sound alike.
But no, I couldn't quite place my finger on the subtext of this early morning exclamation. But I knew one thing for sure: It wasn't someone asking me what I wanted for Mother's Day.
I rolled over and tried to go back to sleep. My girls know where to find me if they need me.
And they certainly know how to get my attention.
- Mary Jane Grenzow is editor of the Monroe Times.
She can be reached at
editor@themonroetimes.com.
Her column appears on Saturdays.
