A poem, a thought and a memory

I'm reading through this cookbook my grandmother, Pauline, sent to my mother for Christmas. It's put out by the Etude Club and is a collection of recipes, history and what made up the heart and soul of this club.

Founded in 1892 it has been a strong voice for literacy in Jefferson County - upstate New York. My father and his family grew up in Adams, NY. My grandmother has been a member of this club for many years (I'll have to remember to ask her how long). The club supports literacy and awards "scholarships" to students mainly in lower grades for showing "outstanding interest in books," "greatest improvement in scholarship, leadership, service, character and citizenship."

I think it's really cool that one of their awards is for kindergarten students. It's a mere $10- but ten bucks to a 5 or 6 year old is a lot of money (at least to my kids). This club reminds me of my middle school days when they would have an awards ceremony at the end of the year. I still have my certificates somewhere, but they also gave cash awards. It was a total surprise to me the first year I experienced this - but I walked away with more than $100 for awards in English, Art, Science and I think I even got the coveted principal's award one year (They only gave two of these each year).

But I digress for the real reason I decided to write about this cookbook and it's because there was a little poem that just spoke to me deeply. I read it to my husband and even though it's just a few lines he had a terribly blank look on his face when I finished.

"Would you like me to read it again?" I asked, fully prepared to repeat it to him.

"No, how about you just explain it to me?" he answered.

I went on to paraphrase it for him, even though I basically said the same words in the poem again. You'll have to tell me if you "get it."

I'm sure most moms understand!

There is no title, just the author's name. She was apparently one of the most recent Etude Club President and I'd like to think she's a young mom like me with younger children.

By Diana W. Smith, Etude President 2007-2008

Sometimes,
While shuffling
4 pots on a 3-burner stove;
The bathroom avalanched
With laundry disengorged
From the hamper,
And none of the dishes done;
2 kids crying
And needing noses wiped,
I wonder
What it would be like,
Cooking dinner
for 1.