Even a Canker Sore Needs A Little TLC. And So Do I.

Okay, so no one liked yesterday’s post on Bond. I came to this assumption by the fact that I had three comments, as opposed to my usual five. So you didn’t think it was funny…that’s okay. I don’t need y’all to like every post I write. I know who I am in Christ.

I would now like to go on record as saying although I do, in fact, know who I am in Christ, I would prefer that y’all like every post I write. It just doesn’t hurt as bad, ya know?

So I’m riding in the car with the AG yesterday and I say, “I don’t think anyone liked my post on Bond. You didn’t even mention it.”

“What was I supposed to say about it?”

“You didn’t think it was funny?”

“It was fun.”

“Cause I thought it was funny. Real funny.”

“Really? Maybe I read it wrong. Tell me what was funny.”

“Hello! All those laser beams I talked about and then showing that picture of Roger Moore as a wrinkled old man.”

“Like I said, it was fun.”

Fun? Can you believe that? Fun? Who wants to be fun? I once had a canker sore, now that was fun. But you ain’t never seen no canker sore be funny, have you? I think not.

So the Attorney General’s complete demise of my self-esteem and overall worth as a human being really got me to thinking last night when I was in the shower. (And just so you know, I do some pretty heady thinking in the shower, now granted it’s usually deep thoughts like, ‘what kind of shampoo will I buy once I’ve used all of this stuff up?’ And then there’s the 15 minute ‘do I shave / do I not shave’ debate.)

So like I was saying, I got to thinking…

And here’s the deal. At some point in every mother’s life she is inevidably going to go through a season of feeling unappreciated. It’s nothing serious fellas, no need to go buy ten books on How To Keep Your Love Alive, just give her a little love. Am I right, ladies?

Just tell her “thanks,” every now and then.

Tell her you like her hair.

Tell her the jeans she has on, well, she’s swimming in them.

That’s all I’m askin’. I’m not askin’ for the moon here, folks. I’m just sayin’…

You don’t have to tell me my food was wonderful. Just tell me, “ya know, that meatloaf you made me, I actually kept it down. Not once did I even throw up.” See? That’s sweet right there, I don't care who you are.

You don’t have to tell me I look thin, just tell me how proud you are that I haven’t put on any more weight since the spring or “remember the summer of ’04? At least you’re not back to that size.” Don’t tell me that don’t feel nice, cause it does.

You don’t have to tell me my hair looks great, you just might want look over lovingly at me on the way to church, run your fingers through my hair and say, “I am so glad that when I run my fingers trhough your hair it doesn’t fall out in clumps.” Precious.

You don’t even have to comment on how clean the house is, just make sure and point out that as long as TLC hasn’t contacted me to be on the How Clean Is Your House show that you’re proud of me and you appreciate it. That’s love.

That’s all I’m askin’ for. Like I said, it ain’t the moon. Just show mama some love.

Oh, and this post? It had better be FUNNY.