Mother's Boys

My grandma, Helen Pavkov, was an amazing woman.  Unfortunately, I only knew her through the eyes of a child, but after reading many of the poems that she wrote over the years, I am catching a glimpse of the woman that has had such an impact on my life.  How I would love to sit and talk with her now that I am a mother myself!

Aunt Peg sent the family an e-mail the other day and shared a poem that she just found and had never seen before.  This e-mail has sparked some very encouraging and interesting e-mails that have gone back and forth between family members since then! I would love to know when Grandma wrote this, how old Uncle Ken and Uncle Russ were at the time she wrote it and what kind of conversation or event triggered this cute, but honest poem!

Mother's Boys

Yes, I know there are stains on my carpet,

The traces of small muddy boots,

And I see your fair tapestry glowing,

All spotless with flowers and fruits.

And I know that my walls are disfigured,

With prints of small fingers and hands,

And that your own household most truly

In immaculate purity stands.

And I know that my parlor is littered

With many odd treasures and toys,

While your won is in daintiest order,

Unharmed by the presence of Boys.

And I know that my room is invaded

Quite boldly all hours of the day;

While you sit in yours unmolested

And dream the soft quiet away.

Yes, I know there are little bedsides

Where I must stand watchful each night,

While you go out in your carriage,

And flash in your dresses so bright.

Now, I think I'm a neat little woman,

And I like my house orderly, too;

And I'm fond of all dainty belongings,

Yet I would not change places with you.

No! Keep your fair home with its order,

Its freedom from bother and noise,

And keep your own fanciful leisure,

But give me my splendid boys.

Helen R. Pavkov

Ah yes, give me my splendid boys!  I made the comment to all in the e-mail link that I had both laughed and gotten choked up when I read this poem because just a few moments before, I had barked at the boys about slamming the recliner into the wall yet again when they jumped on it, putting another dent in the wall!  One of the e-mails that came back to me said, "There is something so simple, but loud about little boys that endears them to their moms forever more! Have a wonderful day! (A little spackle and paint will repair the hours of fun on your wall! :)"  How true, Aunt Bonnie, how true!  However, I do think that I will wait another ten years to repair this wall ... again ... because I would rather have my sons' hearts warm toward me than to have a perfectly painted wall!


 Grandma had a way with words that proved to us all that she was a normal housewife, mother and woman who wanted nothing more than to be the person God wanted her to be.  Her poems, although written decades ago, could have easily been written yesterday with the reality that they portrayed.  She was blessed by having her poems published at the age of 93, and I am blessed by reading them and gaining godly wisdom from that amazing woman that I called Grandma.