FOR THE LOVE OF BOYS, "SHERLOCK HOMES I'M NOT!"

For the love of boys.  What does a mother do... let me rephrase that because I've not discussed this with other mothers... what does this mother do for the love of her boys.
I'm many things,

but Sherlock Holmes I'm not!

Songs and comedians say, "I'm chief cook and bottle washer, Girl Friday, floor mopper, dance watcher, nurse maid, and show stopper."  Yes.

But Sherlock Holmes I'm not!

When the boy comes up missing in the wee hours of the night, you know by intuition and that "still small voice" inside you, that he's okay, yet your mind is off and running -- running the newest horror movie from Netflix of all the kinds of atrocities that could've befallen him.

For the love of boys at 3 a.m. you put on your bra!  Using your non-night vision prowess you scan side ditches for his color of car, and the road for skid marks, and the weeds/trees for tire tracks.

For the love of boys at 3 a.m. you've skipped coffee!  Let me say that again, only louder with shock and awe, "For the love of heaven I've skipped my coffee!"  Using your non-enhanced memory you try to conjure names and faces and phone numbers of his friends and co-workers.

For the love of boys at 3 a.m. you resist speed dialing 911!  Did you hear that, I did NOT call the cops!  But you do call the local hospital to see if someone has been admitted with this moms matching DNA.

For the love of boys at 3 a.m. you restrain from climbing to the tiptop of the roof of the house screaming, "Have you seen..." through a mega bullhorn!  Of course you want the whole world to know!  That's pure primitive!

We didn't find him, he came home.
Like I said,
Sherlock Holmes I'm not!

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For the love of boys we mothers do things that are typical, outlandish, selfless, and a little weird.

We lose nights sleep, cook all manner of things, blockade fights, and sew on Scout patches.

We let them use our good scissors, dig a hole to China, and play Play-Doh though it smooshes into parquet floor cracks.

We spend our last dollar on their whim, read Parents magazines & Rosemond books for childrearing tips, and go to events for which we wish we could stay home like Dear Hubby!

We play pretend picnic indoor wintertime.  We bake cakes in various shapes.  We let them during a water fight drown us in our coiffed hair and Sunday clothes.  We skip the meat so they can have it.  Our face and clothes become the place to stick smiley face stickers given for jobs well done.

To our embarrassment, claiming it's good to develop nurturing, we let them play dolls for a minute.  Then we teach them to hunt tomato worms, decorate their foreheads with fireflies lights and handle snakes.

We play secret word, "I love you until pigs fly", and flyswatter "get to bed."

We let them teach us computer tricks and cell phone usage.
Then to impress them back, we climb trees "Boy, did that hurt!"
All for the love of boys.

Oh, by the way, due to a buttocks charlie horse that was the last time to climb a tree, EVER -- at age 50!