Can every day be Mother’s Day? Please??

It’s only 9:00 a.m. and what a Lucky Mom I am. Hubby awoke way before I did, like I think around six, and I heard the 3-year-old awake with him too… that’s early for the kiddo. Heck, that’s early for the DAD. On around 7:30 he came in to give me a 5-minute breakfast warning, and I got myself all propped up and situated for Breakfast in Bed.

My lovely children marched in bearing flowers from our azalea bushes, a stunning pin made as a school craft project (my own mom will be giggling about this right now, and with good reason - keep reading), a tiny hand imprinted in Plaster of Paris and painted blue, and many hugs and kisses and I-love-yous. Feeling like a queen, I was left to enjoy my coffee, bacon, eggs, toast and muffin while Dad did probably the best thing of all. No wait, two best things.

The first best thing was that he got all three boys dressed and around and headed off to church, on time, without me yelling like a Drill Instructor, and, from what I could hear, with very little pushback from the troops. Sunday mornings are usually pretty tense in our house, which is ironic, in that they are this way because we are trying to get out the door to go to church. Feet drag. Children whine. They protest. They lollygag. Even dad reads the paper, walks the dog, pours more coffee, all in what appears to me to be impossibly slow motion. Have you no sense of urgency? We are going to be late!!! God is waiting! Yet today? He spared me all of that. ALL OF IT. I sat in bed, watched old sitcom reruns and read a book. He singlehandedly got everyone out the door. I’ve done it before and it’s no small feat. Thanks, honey!

(Of course, I’ll be getting ready here soon to join them at the second service… but, without all the drama and extra responsibility of getting everyone else ready to go, too. Aaaaaah.)

The second thing I noticed only after they’d gone: I strolled out to the kitchen for more coffee and noticed that he had completely cleaned the kitchen from the post-breakfastmaking mess! I would not have expected him to do this, yet, he did. So thoughtful. I’m overwhelmed.

OK, more about the pin. So, the fourth grader brings in a cute little wrapped gift. I open it, and it’s this modern-looking collage of a pin, that includes shiny paint, a wooden jungle animal (I think it’s a lion?), a polished stone, and some glass bijoux. It’s really cute, because I know he made it with me in mind. But here’s the part that will have my own mom giggling, and my sister, too:

When we were kids, we had a rock tumbler in the “craft workshop” in our basement. My sister and I were fascinated by rocks. We’d put ‘em in the rubber container with grit and water and plug the thing in and let it run for eons, until the rocks were polished to a lovely shine. (Or maybe not so lovely, because we would become impatient and pull the rocks out before they were totally done.) We would also buy polished rocks as souvenirs at every single museum we ever visited. One year, my sister took one such gem, glued it onto a round plastic disc, which she then glued onto a square scrap of WOOD. On the back she affixed a safety pin, cleverly gluing it under a piece of cardboard. She wrote “Happy Mother’s Day!” on it, wrapped it up, and presented it to our mom with her own breakfast in bed.

Mom oooohed and aaaahed, because that’s what moms do. And, of course, she pinned it onto her blouse, intending to show it off to all the church ladies that Sunday morning. Only problem was, the thing weighed like 2 pounds, and drooped terribly. But, God love her, she wore it anyway, because how can you not? and she beamed with pride as she told the story to anyone who would listen (and, probably, to some people who wouldn’t). I’m sure she stifled some giggles, too, but we didn’t notice.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to find something to wear that is sturdy enough to affix own my lovely pin to, without it drooping down to my waist.

Happy Mother’s Day, Mom and Sis!